Page 28 of A Dye Hard Holiday
So, yeah, our crowded house and hectic weekend had me feeling out of sync, but that wasn’t his burden to shoulder. Realizing that, was the bucket of ice water I needed to get over myself. “Hey, you wanna sneak into the mixing room like old times?”
“It’s occupied,” Gabe said with a smug smile and a playful wink. “I think Wren is finally done fighting his feelings for Dare.”
I thought back to the back and forth sniping that morning. “I don’t think so, Gabe.” No sooner had the words left my mouth, a dazed and stunned Dare stumbled out the door and walked in a trance-like state back to man his desk at the front of the salon. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
Wren came out of the room next looking like he couldn’t believe what had happened. He briefly touched his hand to his mouth and watched Dare’s sassy walk. Wren’s eyes met mine and his face turned a bright shade of red.
“Been there, done that,” I told him, hoping to ease his embarrassment.
“Excuse me. I just need a minute,” Wren mumbled then walked out the back door, presumably to get some air and gather his wits. He looked turned on and a little angry too.
Gabe and I turned our attention back to the reception area. Dare sat in his chair staring off into space looking bewildered as fuck. I wondered if he was even aware that he was tracing his lips with two fingers or if his hand moved on its own.
“Been there, done that,” Gabe said, nodding at Dare. “Must be something the stylists drink in here that helps them drive a man to the brink.”
“Oh, I thought you were referring to the wonderment Dare appears to be experiencing,” I replied, trying my best to sound like I had hurt feelings.
“Baby, you’re the king of wonderment, but in the beginning, you were equal parts pleasure and pain. Maybe even sixty forty with pain taking the slight edge.”
“But you’re not sorry.”
“You are the best thing to ever happen to me, Sunshine. Never doubt it for a minute.”
My chest swelled with love and tenderness for the world’s sexiest police captain. Oh, that reminded me. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad were you harassed this morning over my arrest on Friday?”
“Thirty.”Shit!Gabe crooked his finger for me to lean toward him. “Don’t you worry about it; I can handle myself.”
“Hey, the mixing room is free now.” I waggled my brows suggestively.
Things clipped along at a happy, drama-free pace until about three in the afternoon. It started when Mere got sick. She assured me it was normal and swore she was good to go, but I sent her home to rest. She looked more relieved than angry when I walked her to her car and made her promise to call me later. Wren and one other stylist had lighter schedules that afternoon and offered to pick up her clients if they didn’t want to reschedule. Dare started making calls and I wasn’t surprised to hear which clients were flexible and which ones wanted to wait for Mere to return. Of course, Mere offered to stay later through the week to make up for it. I was happy that most of the clients were willing to work with another stylist rather than have Mere working twelve-hour days.
I thought the crisis was diverted until Dare received a bouquet of flowers from a delivery man. I knew by the look on Wren’s face that he didn’t send I Want to Fuck You flowers, which meant they were an apology from Trent. I was familiar with his moves, in fact, I think it was the same type of mixed flowers he sent to me all those years ago. Wren stared daggers at the colorful blossoms while Dare gushed over their beauty. I was pretty certain he planned to sever the flower heads with his shears as soon as he got the opportunity. I bet he would pretend they were Trent’s head too while laughing maniacally.Damn, I’d been hanging around Chaz and his overactive imagination too much!
Eventually, Wren stopped glaring at an oblivious Dare and things fell back into a peaceful rhythm. That all came to a screeching halt when Trent showed up for his haircut around five. Fuck! I never asked which day he was scheduled. Mere went home, Wren looked like he was going to stab Trent in the eye at any minute, the other chairs were all filled, which left only me to cut his hair. I promised Gabe though. I chewed on my bottom lip for a few seconds before I made an executive decision. I was a laidback employer, but I could put my foot down when it was needed.
“Wren, can I please talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure,” he said, but he hadn’t budged from staring at Trent and Dare.
“Wren,” I repeated. The second time got his attention and he followed me to the kitchenette. “I need you to cut Trent’s hair and preferably without piercing his nut sac with your shears.”
“Damn, I hadn’t thought of that. Thanks, Josh.”
I shook my head in frustration. I clearly wasn’t getting my point across if he thought I was trying to help him ruin my business. “Listen, I can’t cut his hair or my husband will hunt him down and kill him. I need you to put your difference aside and cut the fucker’s hair.” Wren’s mouth dropped at my salty language. “Furthermore, get your head out of your ass and you won’t have to worry about some jackass creeping in on your guy.”
Wren was a big guy—tall and strong, but I went toe to toe with him. There was no way that I was letting Trent leave my salon unsatisfied so he could complain to people. He was just the type too. There would be no letter to the editor about my salon. Fuck no!
“Yeah, okay,” Wren said after a long pause. I liked that he didn’t dispute that Dare was his guy. “But I don’t have to like it.”
“Certainly not,” I agreed. “Go out there and show Dare that you’re a mature adult. After we close, ask him to go to dinner with you.”
Wren scoffed like it was the dumbest thing he ever heard. I leveled him with the look I gave to my husband when he was being too stubborn to live.
“I’m sorry if you thought I was joking. I’ve been watching the two of you circle each other like pissed-off alley cats for too long!” That last part came out louder than I planned it. “Knock it off, and get each other off, Wren. We’ll all be better off for it.” Okay, that was totally inappropriate, but he seemed to like that remark.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Atta boy,” I said, placing my hands on his broad shoulders and turning him. I gave him a gentle, but firm, shove. “Go get him.”