His jaw hardened. “Actually, I don’t. Maybe you could let me in on a little of that.”
I huffed out a soft sound. “I promise you, you don’t want to go there.”
“What could one drink hurt?”
There he went again.
A soft puff of laughter rippled out, and I forced myself to straighten. To put an inch between us. “Oh, I’m sure it could hurt plenty.”
“What fun is life if it doesn’t hurt a little?”
“I’ve had enough hurt to last me a long, long time.”
“Maybe it’s the fun part you’re in need of.”
I gave him a soft shake of my head. “It’s a bad idea.”
“I’d make a really good memory.”
Honesty came bleeding free. “Or a really bad one.”
And I didn’t have the time or space for that.
And the last thing I needed was another reason for Reed to go ballistic.
Then another gush of air was being tugged from my lungs when he pushed to standing.
He swiveled around and leaned over me. He fluttered his fingertips down my cheek, the man nothing but fire. “Oh, it’d be a good one. Trust me.”
Cocky, cocky boy.
Why’d I like that about him?
But that didn’t change anything.
“Maybe in another lifetime.”
He blinked a few times as if he were catching up to another rejection, something I was pretty sure the man had probably never experienced before, and then he moved back to my station. He grabbed the same business card he’d returned to me and a pen from the container.
He scribbled something on the back of it, glancing at me as he did. “That’s too bad, considering we only have one life to live.”
He dug into his wallet and pulled out a stack of money.
Frowning, I rushed, “Oh, no, the cut is on me. I’m just grateful you brought my things back.”
His head shook, and he set the stack on top of the card. “I think it’s me who owes all the thanks. I mean, look at me.”
He was all easy smiles when he pointed to his hair that was framing his striking, defined face.
Right.
As if I were even a little bit responsible for all that perfection.
Some things you just had to be born with.
He started to walk away before he paused, cocking a grin at me from over his shoulder that somehow looked like a grimace. As if he’d managed to read something inside me when I’d never wanted him to have the power to peel back the cover. “Watch out for yourself, Grace. If you need to use that number? Use it.”
Then he strode off, disappearing out the arch, taking that energy with him.
I slumped over from the loss of it, hanging onto the back of my chair like I’d forgotten to breathe the entire time he’d been sitting there.
Or maybe the real problem was that I’d been breathing him in the entire time. The man overwhelming. Filling me too full. Full of foolish feelings and foolish ideas.
Because I’d wanted to say yes. I’d wanted to spend a few moments prisoner to those strange eyes, lost to that sensation that swept through me every time he was near.
But it’d be a mistake. I knew it.
It wasn’t as if I were still married. By the grace of God, I’d been granted that small gift. Cutting my legal tie to Reed. For the time being, I was keeping my last name until I was in the position to change the kids’ last name as well because I didn’t want them to feel separated from me.
Once I’d been granted the divorce, things had only escalated with Reed, and I couldn’t risk my judgment being called into question. It wasn’t fair, but that was just the way things were.
With the way he was watching me, I was pretty sure that he knew it, too.
I moved for the stack of money he’d left. I fluttered my thumb through the bills, scowling when I realized he’d left a pile of five twenties.
What on earth was he thinking, leaving me a hundred-dollar tip?
I really hoped he didn’t think I was that kind of easy. Then I picked up the card.
He’d written his name and number on it.
Ian Jacobs.
Ian Jacobs.
I let his name roll around on the tip of my tongue, fidgeting with the card, trying to convince myself to toss it into the trash.
Somehow doing it felt like blasphemy.
I whirled around when the voice hit me from behind. “Um, hello, care to fill me in on whatever was just going down on this side of the salon?”
Quick to toss the card back onto my station, I lifted a careless brow at Melissa and began to sweep up the little waves of brown hair littered around my chair, fighting the urge to pick a lock up and tuck it into my pocket like some kind of weirdo.
“I was giving a haircut. What does it look like I was doing?” I tried to make it come out as if she was the one who’d lost her mind.