Page 24 of Claimed By the Don

“I have. About a year ago I got to thinking about it, what product line to carry, services I’d offer and the ones I’d do away with, that kind of thing. But ever since I came here it’s like being at Snip has kicked that into high gear. Not that I don’t love my job there, it’s just inspired me to be more serious about it.”

“You know I’d invest in you anytime. No strings attached,” he says it so easily. I shake my head emphatically. No, absolutely not, every instinct recoils from the idea.

“I’m sorry,” I say, pushing back my chair. “I don’t want that. Thank you, but that’s the last thing I would ever want is you putting money on me, backing some idea I have. I feel awful even thinking it. Please just forget I said anything. I’m just—” A sick twist of my stomach nearly gags me. I tell him I need to go, that I’m sorry again, and practically run out the door before doing what I set out to do.

He catches up to me on foot right as I step on my mom’s front porch. He grabs my arm and turns me to face him. I look away, self-conscious. My cheeks blaze with embarrassment.

“Hey, I thought I asked you not to run away on me,” he says, his voice so gentle, teasing that I almost want to lift my chin and see whatever is in his eyes.

“Listen,” he says, “I know you weren’t hinting for me to help you out with opening a salon. That’s not how you operate. You would rather obviously sprint a few blocks to avoid that discussion.”

“I don’t want that from you. I don’t want presents and business loans,” I say in a rush.

“It wouldn’t be a loan.”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want to tie my business up with another person, and I don’t want to risk losing what we have over some joint business venture.” What the hell am I saying? I went there to break things off with him, not admit there was somethingtobreak off.

“I’ve already told you nothing will ruin what we have,” he tries to reassure me.”

He follows me up the porch steps and sits beside me on my mom’s old porch swing.

“I’m sorry I ran,” I say. “I panicked.”

“You gotta work on that,” he says. I lean my head against his arm, tentative. Benny takes my hand in his.

“We good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

“Good. I barely survived the first time you left Daze. I don’t think I could do it again.”

The weight of his confession hits me hard, and I lean in and whisper against his ear, “I wasn’t okay when I left either. I saw how you looked at me when you caught up to me today. I don’t ever want to hurt you like that again.”

“What did I look like?”

“Devastated.”

He shrugs. I think he’ll say I’m exaggerating, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry, more than you can ever know,” I tell him, my hand on his face. The stubble on his jaw abrades my palm, his eyes shut under my touch. I brush my lips against his. I fall for him all over again, no matter how much trouble it means for me.

“I never even had a chance, once you said my name outside the grocery store, Benny,” I confide, and snuggle against him while the swing sways back and forth and the wind chimes tinkle in the breeze.

16

BENNY

Pretending this is temporary doesn’t work for me. For a man who can keep my cards close to the vest in business, my real intentions keep escaping when I’m around.

I miss her badly enough that week that I book a haircut. Her face when I walk in and sit in her chair is priceless.

Daisy’s cheeks flush pink, and she fidgets with the tools at her station, trying to act professional and detached. But when she washes my hair, I swear to God, I don’t know which one of us is the most tormented. Her small hands scrub my scalp under warm water, her gaze stubbornly fixed on the wall beyond me. I see her bite her lip, see her throat work and her restless energy barely held back.

As for me, the touch of her fingers in my hair, the swell of her breasts as she reaches across me for shears leaves me struggling not to come undone. Judging by the flush on her chest and the quickness of her breaths, she’s right there with me.

“Looks great,” I manage when she turns me toward the mirror.

“I can,” she clears her throat, “shave you. It’s included. There are hot towels in the towel warmer.”

“Thanks, but I’m about to sprint home and take the coldest shower I can stand.”

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