Fortuity: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (The Transcend Series Book 3) Page 6

“Then why did Gracelyn shave part of your hair in the back.”

  I reach for the back of my head at the same time I face Gracelyn again. She grimaces as my fingertips feel the one-by-two-inch strip of buzzed hair.

  “What did you—”

  “Listen … the guard came loose on the clippers. I think because they are so old. It will grow back in no time. Really. If you wear a hat out in public, it will be no big deal. And honestly the rest of your hair is long enough and wavy enough that you might be able to style it to cover up the bulk of it. OR …” Her cringe flips into something resembling excitement. “You can wear it in a ponytail. It’s totally in right now.”

  Morgan cups her hand at her mouth and shuffles out of the kitchen with wide eyes. “Gabe! Gracelyn ruined my dad’s—” The slam of the door cuts off her voice.

  As I wordlessly blink at Gracelyn, she bites her lips together, wringing her hands in front of her.

  “So sorry. This has never happened before. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Well … fix it.”

  “I can take you someplace, but I won’t touch those clippers again. I don’t trust them.”

  My lips part, and I try to keep my jaw from reaching the floor. “The clippers. You don’t trust the clippers?”

  “I feel terrible.”

  “Mmm … I can see that.” I tear off the cape.

  Her frantic apologies and anguish-ridden face lead me to believe she has no intention of fixing my hair. I’m not sure I want her to attempt it at this point. Gracelyn is a lot of things at the moment, but confident is not one of them.

  “What are you doing?” She takes a few steps backward.

  “Going to get a haircut.” I toss the cape onto the table and brush off my jeans before exiting the kitchen to find a hat in my bedroom.

  “I … well …” She follows me upstairs. “I’ll stay here and watch the kids.”

  “No. You won’t.” I sort through a half dozen hats in the dresser drawer.

  “Please don’t let this ruin your summer here. I don’t want Gabe and Morgan to be affected by an equipment malfunction.”

  I grunt a laugh, pulling on my baseball cap backward to get more coverage for the back of my head. Damn … I wish this woman didn’t look like my Jenna. She even argues like her—the perfect amount of stubbornness to balance her fear. When we first met, Jenna feared every little fight would end us.

  “You’re staring at my hair again. Is it your wife? Or are you contemplating shaving my head in my sleep?” Gracelyn hugs her arms to her chest.

  I eliminate the space between us, peering down at her until she swallows hard under my scrutiny. She botched up my hair. I deserve a few seconds of making her squirm. “Yes.”

  Her full, rosy lips part. “Uh … yes what? Yes, you’re staring at my hair and thinking about your wife, or yes you’re contemplating shaving my head in my sleep?”

  The smattering of freckles along her nose and cheeks reminds me that she’s not Jenna—that and her bigger breasts and slightly curvier hips.

  “I have a strict man-ban,” she says in a breathy voice.

  She’s beautiful. My ability to stand this close to her and think that without feeling guilty means I’m not a broken man. I’m just out of my element, out of practice, and maybe a little out of my mind.

  “What’s a man-ban?”

  Another hard swallow. “It means I’ve retired from dating and men in general.”

  “And you’re telling me this because?”

  After wetting her lips, she rubs them together. “Because you’re standing so close to me.”

  I smirk and take a long step backward. “Better?”

  Her shoulders relax. “Better.”

  “I haven’t dated anyone since my wife died. So don’t read into anything I do as a threat to your man ban. And if I’m being honest, a bad haircut doesn’t do it for me.”

  She scratches her throat, twisting her lips to the side. “You seemed to enjoy it until Morgan pointed out the tiny flaw. I heard several contented sighs and even a short hum.”

  Rubbing my mouth, I hide my grin. “Fine. It was good until it wasn’t. Now, I have to go get it fixed, which will probably involve losing most of my hair. Hmm … that doesn’t sound amazing.” I sigh after my hum to let her know not all sighs and hums are good signs.

  But … I did enjoy her fingers in my hair. Was it worth it? That’s yet to be determined. I’ll make that decision when I look in the mirror tonight before I go to bed.

  “Did I mention I’m really sorry?” She curls her hair behind her ear and wrinkles her freckled nose.

  I sidestep her and head toward the stairs. “Yes. You’ve been very generous with apologies and gratitude. You’re eternally welcome, and most likely I will always forgive you. How much more could you possibly screw up in the next eight weeks?”

  “Please don’t say it like that.” She follows me to the kitchen. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on me to be perfect. So much could happen in eight weeks.”

  I chuckle while sweeping up the hair mess. Although … it’s not much more than that initial strip of hair from the back of my head. What did she cut with the scissors?

  As if she can read my mind, Gracelyn snatches the bagful of hair supplies from the table and shoots me a nervous smile. “I promised Gabe I’d take him to see his friend today.” She retreats a few steps. “So … I’m…” her thumb makes a jabbing gesture over her shoulder “…just going to go.”

  “Okay.” I empty the dustpan into the trash can under the sink.

  “You don’t have to thank me for my time.”

  With my back to her, I freeze, eyes narrowed. She really just said that?

  “But I’ll still thank you for the coffee. So … thanks for the coffee.”

  I slowly turn toward her. She slides her hands into the back pockets of her frayed denim shorts. I keep my lips neutral, but inside I have the biggest damn grin clawing its way to the surface. Happiness comes in small packages. It’s not so much a state of mind, but a moment.

  In this moment, I want to wipe that grin off her face. She ruined my hair. At the same time, I want to stare at her, try to figure out the little things—like stripping outside and stuffing lingerie into pockets. It’s been a long time since I had any sort of desire to figure out a woman.

  “You’re welcome.” The smile breaks out along my face like the sun burning through the clouds. I can’t stop it. Usually, I can stop it. All I have to do is think of Jenna and how much I miss her—or Daisy, my best friend who died when we were kids.

  Not today. Gracelyn earns this smile from me, and she has no clue what a huge breakthrough this is in my life.

  “Well, you’re welcome too.” She narrows her eyes a bit.

  Yes, Elvis … I know you’re fishing for a thank-you from me, but I’m not feeling the haircut gratitude at the moment.

  While I adjust my hat as a reminder of what transpired this morning, her gaze flits from my hand making the adjustment to my unblinking eyes.

  She clears her throat. “Well … I’ll see you around.” Turning on her heel, she scurries out of the house, leaving me with this ridiculous grin.

  I can’t wait to see her around. If I can make a specific request, I’d like to see more of her after-work routine and less of her with clippers in her hand.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gracelyn

  “I’ve never seen him like this. I don’t even recognize him,” Morgan’s voice wafts through the paper walls.

  I grab my phone from the nightstand to check the time. It’s a few minutes before eight on a Saturday morning. Don’t kids sleep in anymore? I used to sleep in on the weekends when I was their age. The three plus decades I have on them doesn’t change my desire to sleep in on the weekend.

  “He looks like someone in the military. I mean … he has hair, it’s just really short,” Morgan continues without using her library voice.

  I bolt to sitting, running my hands through my hair
. The haircut fiasco yesterday.

  Shit! They had to buzz Nate’s hair … because of me. That’s what she’s talking about; it has to be what she’s talking about.

  Throwing on shorts and a tee in record time, I open the bedroom door.

  “Hi, Gracelyn.” Morgan smiles from her usual spot on the brown leather sofa next to Gabe. She likes to watch him play video games and talk his ear off. I think deep down he likes her, but he’s playing it cool.

  Gabe? He ignores me. His usual behavior in the morning when he’s in the zone. I can’t wait for school to start so I don’t feel like such a failure letting him play games all day long.

  “Good morning, Morgan.” I return a smile.

  “I tried to tell him he’s going to rot his brain, and he should take a break and let me play for a bit.” Morgan rolls her eyes.

  Gabe doesn’t react.

  I ease into the recliner next to the sofa, tucking my legs beneath me. “I don’t think your dad wants you having a turn at rotting your brain.”

  “Dude …” Gabe sighs without taking his eyes off the TV. “I can hear you. I’m not rotting my brain.”

  I wink at Morgan and she giggles.

  “What’s your dad doing?” I have to ask.

  “He just got home from jogging, so he’s probably on the porch doing push-ups and stuff like that. Wait until you see his hair. It’s gone! All gone.”

  I cringe.

  “Well…” she twists her mouth “…it’s not all gone as in literally. It’s just so short. The guy who fixed it said he had no choice but to go that short after you messed up the back. He said … wait—” She covers her mouth with her hand. “Never mind.”

  “He said what?” I cant my head, hugging my arms to my chest.

  “I’m not supposed to tell you. It’s just hard to keep so many secrets from you.”

  I release an easy laugh. “So many secrets? How many secrets are you keeping from me?”

  With wide eyes, Morgan bites her lips together and shrugs.

  “If you share one or two of these secrets with me, Gabe will let you play that for fifteen minutes.”

  “No. I won’t.” Gabe disputes my promise.

  “Yes. He will. If he wants me to take him to the park later to play Fishy with his friends, he’ll let you have a turn.”

  “Fishy?” Morgan turns her attention to Gabe. “What’s Fishy? You could invite me. I love games.”

  “What did your dad say that you’re not supposed to tell me?” I don’t really care about Fishy. I want to know Nate’s secrets.

  “Just stuff to not make you feel bad. He said it’s okay to keep secrets if it’s to protect someone’s feelings.”

  “You don’t have to protect my feelings. I can take it.”

  “Fine.” She sighs. “But don’t tell him I told you.”

  I make an X over my chest.

  “He said he feels sorry for your clients if you ever have to use the clippers. The guy cutting his hair laughed. When Dad noticed I heard him, he said not to repeat it. He said he shouldn’t have said it, but I think that’s code for he thinks he shouldn’t have said it in front of me. Like when he uses a swear word.”

  Of course, he and some other guy enjoyed a laugh on my behalf. So typical.

  “That’s it? That’s what he was worried you’d tell me?”

  Her nose wrinkles. “Well, maybe one other thing. He thinks it would make you feel bad if you knew that we see you undressing when you get home from work.”

  “What?” Gabe grimaces without looking away from the screen.

  Bad? No. I don’t feel bad. Embarrassed? Definitely. It’s pretty embarrassing. I always glance around before doing it. And I do it as quickly as possible. The side of the house isn’t visible to that many people—except for Morgan and Nate with the two windows facing my balcony. I always check to make sure they’re not looking out the window.

  “I saw you first, and I told my dad. He covered my eyes, but I said, ‘Dad! I’m a girl too!’” She rolls her eyes.

  Rubbing my lips together, I nod slowly. “Did he cover his eyes?”

  She shakes her head. “I’ll tell him to close his eyes if it happens again.”

  Gabe tosses the game controller onto Morgan’s lap and stands. “I’m going to get breakfast.”

  As I follow him down the stairs, he glances back at me. “Why don’t you shut the blinds? My mom forgot to shut the blinds once to their bathroom, and my dad saw her undressing to get in the shower as he pulled into the driveway. He was not happy.”

  I can see that. Kyle was a little possessive of Emily. The good news for me at the moment—if there can be any good news after Morgan’s confession—is that Gabe thinks I undress in my bedroom with the blinds open, not outside under the balcony.

  “Morning. Morgan wake you two up?” Mr. Hans asks. “Woke me up.” He pours a cup of coffee.

  I grin. “This generation doesn’t sleep in.”

  “This works.” Gabe grabs a bag of chips from the counter and heads back toward the stairs.

  “No way, buster. You’re not having chips for breakfast.”

  I snatch the bag from his hand when he sulks back into the kitchen.

  “Fine. Eggs with cheese.”

  “We’re out of eggs.” I have to disappoint him again.

  “Fine. Then I’ll eat the chips.”

  I shove the bag behind me when he goes to reach for it again.

  “I’ve got some cooked eggs in the fridge. Boiled and pickled. Help yourself.”

  “Um … no thanks.” Gabe’s face scrunches into disgust.

  “Go ask my dad for eggs! We got some last night!” Morgan hears everyone and everything. It’s a little creepy.

  I nod toward the door. “Go ask nicely to borrow two eggs and tell him I’ll replace them this afternoon.”

  “Can you do it, please? If I don’t get back upstairs, she’s going to mess something up on my game because she has no clue what she’s doing.”

  “I heard that!” Morgan calls.

  I return the exasperated expression he usually gives me. It does nothing. Gabe turns and runs back up the stairs.

  “Ask him if he’s done with my stud finder,” Mr. Hans adds.

  “Fine. I’ll go comb my hair and brush my teeth.”

  He chuckles. “Why? Are you going to kiss him?”

  “What?” I narrow my eyes at him.

  “Your hair is fine. And unless you get in his face, he won’t smell your breath.”

  “I’m not kissing him.”

  In real life.

  I can’t control what happens in my sleep. It’s possible Nate has a Scottish accent in my dreams.

  “My shoes are upstairs. I have to go up there anyway.”

  “Sure.” He grins before sipping his coffee.

  “I told you, I’m not interested in any man.”

  “Sure thing, Elvis.”

  I give up on the fight and quickly brush my teeth, wash my face, pull my hair back into a small ponytail, roll on deodorant, lotion my legs, and change my shirt to something less wrinkled.

  It’s not like I changed into sexy lingerie. Besides … he’s already seen that.

  Instead of confronting snoopy Mr. Hans again, I exit through my bedroom and down the stairs he built for me. I knock on the frame to Nate’s screen deck door.

  “Come in!” he calls.

  The door squeaks when I open it. After I slip off my canvas shoes, I tiptoe my bare feet toward the kitchen, at least I think that’s where Nate’s voice just came from.

  “Good—whoa!” I jerk my head back.

  Nate gives me a strained smile as he finishes pull-ups on a bar secured in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.

  Shirtless.

  Sweaty.

  Tan.

  Low riding shorts.

  Muscles for days.

  And … dreadfully short hair.

  “Your hair,” I whisper.

  He finishes five more pull-ups
and drops to the floor. Wiping his face with a white towel, he chuckles. “Hank said the ponytail suggestion would make me look like an actor on some Scottish time-travel series. He assured me I wouldn’t want that in spite of women going crazy over him. So the only alternative was to take it really short in the back and on the sides.” He ruffles the top of his hair which is a little bit longer, but not much. “He left me a little wave on the top.”

  “Jamie?”

  Nate flings the towel over his shoulder. “What?”

  “He implied you’d look like Jamie from Outlander?”

  He lifts his shoulders slowly. “Um, maybe. I don’t watch the show, and he didn’t remember the name of it.”

  “What’s wrong with Jamie?” I cross my arms over my chest.

  Nate’s gaze follows my arms, and he grins. “You’re one of those women, aren’t you?” A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.

  “I don’t know what you’re implying by those women. Yes, I’ve watched Outlander. And I’ve read the books. It’s really a brilliant storyline with rich historical references. The show has stunning scenery and some quite impressive battle scenes.”

  “But you’re not attracted to this Jamie character?”

  “Listen, James Fraser is a fantastic character. I enjoy watching him because he’s a superb actor.”

  “Hank said his girlfriend watches the show, and it’s filled with graphic sex scenes.”

  “Pfft … filled is a bit of an exaggeration.”

  “I see. So … what’s up?”

  I rip my gaze from his chest and narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re here. Is there a reason? Or did you want to have coffee with me? I’m hot at the moment, so I’ll probably have some water, but I’ll make you some coffee.”

  “Well …” I jerk my head in the direction of my place. “The kids are over there.”

  “That’s fine. They don’t drink coffee. Let me go put on a shirt.”

  Yes. Please put on a shirt.

  He runs up the stairs, and I … okay, I won’t lie. I watch him run up the stairs. Then I sigh, closing my eyes and replaying those last five pull-ups.

  “How’s Gabe doing? I’ve been meaning to ask.” Nate jogs down the stairs a few seconds later.