Page 5 of Show Me How
Owen looks to me for help, but I just wink, printing his receipt off.
“How about you come up with something? I’m sure you have quite a few ideas in your head already,” he says, inspecting her ink now.
There’s a fuck ton of it to look at, and once again, it’s a head rush.
Bryce tips her chin. “Yeah, alright. Shade has your contact info?”
“I do,” I answer for him.
“Okay. I’ll reach out with more info once I have a look at my schedule.”
“Thank you. It’s been a blast today, guys,” he says after taking his receipt and starting for the door.
“My pleasure, man. See you.”
Bryce leans back against the front desk, her head slightly cocked at me once he’s gone. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Hand him off to me.”
“I didn’t hand him off. Not like that. He wanted another piece, and you know how far I’m booked. Why not let him get something done by the second best?”
Her nod is stiff, but it doesn’t worry me. Bryce is . . . Bryce. She’s not much for talking, even if you’re one of the lucky ones she’s let into her so-called frozen heart. Her circle is small, and I’m just grateful to be included in it. Her fiancée, Daisy, is the only one who has the ability to really pry her voice box open.
“Owen was my last appointment today, so you should head out,” I say.
“You don’t want me to close up tonight?”
“Why would I?”
She blinks slowly. “Don’t you have plans tonight?”
“Oh, that. Yeah, but I’m not in a rush.”
“What time is your date?”
“It’s not a date. But we’re meeting at nine.” After tucking the card reader away, I lock its drawer.
“And why are you so curious?”
She jostles a shoulder, eyeing me curiously. “I’m not.”
“Yeah, right. You have a worse poker face than you think you do.”
I’m a naturally tidy person when I’m working, so cleanup is quick. Everything has its proper place, and I’m incredibly anal with making sure I keep organized. After so many years in this industry and getting as busy as I am, not knowing where something is leads to delays that I can’t usually afford when I’m in the middle of an appointment.
I spray disinfectant on my chair and table before starting to wipe it away.
“You can’t just not answer me and think that changes anything,” I tell her.
Bryce huffs and stands beside me, hovering. “You’ve been extra busy after work lately.”
“Are you worried about me?” I tease.
“Worried about you catching something from all of these women you’re seeing, yeah.”
“I haven’t had sex in months, actually. But I appreciate your worry.”
