Page 2 of Fiery Romance

Even if he does, he’s definitely not interested in smiling with me.

The mountain man looks like he wants to crush my head between his giant paws.

“I think you’re mistaken, Miss Hayes. This is my shop.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“All your franchises are under loan agreements with United Bank.” He pauses for dramatic effect and I want to smack him even harder than I already do. “And I just bought the bank.”

He says it cool as a cucumber. The definition of flippant. Casual. The way someone would smoothly admit to buying a new wig or some toothpaste.

I just bought the bank.

And not just any bank. The one that has my neck in a chokehold thanks to all the new expansion loans I took out last summer.

My legs are glued to the floor. I can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t even suck in a breath.

He has to be lying.

He’s… he’s lying, right?

People don’t justbuybanks over arguments—no, misunderstandings like this.

I hear the door slam shut.

Glancing up, I realize he’s gone.

My dark fingers—that had been clutching a hair dryer hidden beneath the counter—go lax.

For most of our tense conversation, I’d been holding my ‘nine milli’ and praying the blue-eyed beast didn’t call my bluff. The hair dryer was the only weapon I could think to grab when he crashed into my business, barking and growling.

It’s a good thing he didn’t force my hand or I’d have to stun him with the power of an extra-hot heating system and a sure-grip handle.

“Are you okay?” The soft question is followed by a soft touch on my back.

I turn to find Nova, one of my VIP clients, giving me a concerned stare. The surge of pity in her eyes makes something snap in me.

“Fine,” I mutter, stepping away.

Nova doesn’t say anything—she doesn’t talk much at all, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

I hide my shaken nerves behind a smile and lift my chin.

Damage control first.

Freak out, later.

I take stock of the clients in my salon. Everyone’s staring wide-eyed and unnerved. The silence is the kind that falls after something exploded and you’re waiting for another grenade to go off.

“Well…” I clear my throat, “it seems likesomeonedidn’t get his coffee this morning.” I hook a thumb at the door where Mr. Scowly Viking recently vacated. “Am I right?”

No one laughs.

Okay then.

“I apologize for interrupting your afternoon with that nonsense. Why don’t I offer you all a complimentary hair care basket for your trouble? On the house.”

Cheers break out. The free gifts are an unnecessary gesture. I doubt anyone would have complained. The show they got to watch thanks to that sexy buffoon was way more exciting than anything they’d scheduled today.

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