Page 28 of On His Knees

She pouts. “I saw your woman. She’s a vacationer, Tate. Gone in a week.”

That makes two of us.

“Just think about it, okay?” she says.

“Okay,” I say just to appease her.

“Bar or floor?” she asks again.

“Neither for him,” Henry pipes in, and I look at him over Jaquelin’s head. Wait—is he firing me?

“What’s going on?”

He tosses a rag over his shoulder, and says, “We all have to do our part for Winterfest. And every year we do a kissing booth. Vacationers love it!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Luca mixes a drink beside me, and I nod to him. I’ve only just met Jaquelin and Luca. They don’t know who I am, but Luca and I instantly hit it off. I wonder what his story is. He came here from Italy a few months ago, that much I know about him. A bartender is a great job for cash, but the guy is smart as hell, and could probably be doing more with his life.

Henry puts his hand on my shoulder. “Afraid not.”

“Please tell me you don’t want me to work it.”

“I want you all to consider taking a turn,” he says forcefully, and points to the wooden booth set up in the corner. How did I miss that? “You’ll be helping so many people by volunteering. We do it every year for charity and it’s a huge success.” He winks at me. “I think this year it will be even more successful.” His eyes move over my face. “Although you might want to get a damn haircut.”

I laugh and run my fingers through my hair. “Where should I go?”

“Go see Luigi, down at Martina’s salon, then get back here. You’re up first.”

“You want me to go to a salon?”

“Luigi has been here since you were a kid,” he says quietly. “He’ll do a good job.”

“I kind of like his hair long,” Jaquelin says from behind me, and runs her fingers through it. I flinch and jerk away from her unwanted touch. I’m about to walk back down the hall to get my coat, when she says, “Think about it, Tate.”

“Think about what?” I

hear Luca ask her as I disappear. I shrug back into my coat and step outside. The clouds are growing darker, knitting together as they move over the mountain. But it’s warmer today than it has been. A good day to hit the slopes or go skating on the man-made rink outside Granddad’s hotel.

I hurry to the salon, and an array of smells sting my sinuses upon entering. I wince and ask for Luigi. He’s currently with a client, so I sit and flip through one of the magazines on the bench. Numerous women glance my way as they come and go. They probably recognize me from the bar. That does raise a bit of concern though, something I should’ve thought of before. Some of the resort staff know me, but they know not to give me away. Thankfully, I was able to keep my cover the other night at the restaurant—the few patrons who recognized me were too polite to interrupt me on a date. But what if someone else recognizes me as Tate Carson, grandson to billionaire James Carson, and says something? I have enough on my mind to worry about, so I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Luigi finally comes to get me. He’s an elderly man with a thick Italian accent. He looks me over, narrows his eyes.

“Do I know you?”

Shit.

“I work at the bar, pretty new here.”

He nods and says nothing more, but I think he’s putting it together. He probably cut my granddad’s hair many times over the years. Maybe even mine when I was little.

He sits me in the chair and gets right to it, humming to himself as he cuts, then shaves my neck. I shake my hair out and run my fingers through it, taking in the short, professional style I usually wear, and feeling more like myself.

Will Summer like this look?

What the hell do I care about that for?

Luigi tugs off my cape and says, “Voilà. As handsome as I remember.”

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