Page 132 of Unravelling The Hitman: A BWWM Romance

“Look!” Ms. Shirley barks out a laugh that sounds part hyena and part creaky door. “His cheeks got so red. Don’t tell me you’re that innocent.” She shakes her head with an intense look in her brown eyes. “Boy, if I was twenty-years younger, I’d be all over that. Mm-mm-mm.”

My gaze skitters away, landing on Ms. Shirley’s granddaughter who is currently smacking her forehead in shame.

Given that reaction, this isn’t her grandma’s first proposition nor will it be the last.

“I’ll just… sit over there.” I point to the sofa and try to escape from the loud woman as fast as I can.

“If you’re staying,” Cobie smirks, “I could use your help.”

“Help?”

“You wash your own hair, right, so you’re familiar with the general process?”

My gaze bounces around the room.

Where is she going with this?

Cobie crooks her finger, beckoning me with her glittering, brown eyes.

“Me?”

She nods.

The beckon. The moment of being chosen. It’s following the script of every dream I’ve had of her.

Except, instead of taking my hand so she can lead me behind the bleachers of our old high school, Cobie takes my hand and puts it on top of Ms. Shirley’s hair.

“Have fun,” she whispers evilly.

“How wonderful!” the old lady claps. “Are you taking care of me this afternoon, suga?”

I yank my hand back. “Cobie!”

“What?” She blinks thick lashes. “You’re welcome to leave if it’s too much.”

My Adam’s apple bobs. I turn back to the flirtatious grandma and grit my teeth. “Where’s the shampoo?”

“Over there.” Cobie points to the shelf lined with her natural-hair products. “And make sure you do a good job.”

I stare at her smile in fear. How can a woman hurl threats with such a sweet expression on her face?

Something’s wrong.

I’m one hundred percent sure Cobie’s not all there in the head.

Neither is her client.

“Come on, big guy.” Ms. Shirley caresses my wrist. “Let’s get wet.”

I shudder.

I have to close this deal. I have to close this deal.

Rigidly, I walk over to the shampoo and wait for further directions.

Cobie positions the granddaughter in the salon chair. She glances up when she’s good and ready and simply chucks her chin in the direction of the kitchen.

“This way, suga.” Ms. Shirley links her arm in mine and leads me like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter.

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