Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
He stared at me.
I stared back.
My dad probably prayed to disappear before finally saying, “How about you don’t answer that right now, son. Knowing you’re trying to get my daughter between the sheets is going to make working together pretty damn awkward.” And with that, he opened the door and went inside.
“What the fuck?” Ramsey mouthed at me as he caught the door with a hand at the top.
I had no idea what part he was pissed off about: the fact that I was talking about sex and his stupid lies in front of my dad or the fact that he’d insinuated they would be working together.
It was funny either way.
The bells on the door jingled, announcing our entry, and Misty rose from her permanent seat at the check-in desk. “Thea,” she cooed, walking around the wooden counter, her short blonde bob brushing her round jawline. “Come give me some love.”
There was no arguing with Misty when it came to her “love.” My dad wasn’t particularly affectionate, but that man’s smile could light up a solar eclipse when his woman wrapped his baby in a momma-bear hug.
She pulled me in for a tight embrace, whispering, “How ya doing with all this?”
“Pretty okay actually.”
When she was done with me, she turned her attention on Ramsey. “Mister, I’ve heard a lot about you.” She gave him exactly zero warning before her arms were around his middle and her cheek was pressed against his chest.
Ramsey’s body went solid, and his face flashed yet another shade of discomfort.
I laughed. Again.
He scowled at me. Again.
“All right, babe. Let the boy go. I need to show him his new station.”
Ramsey once again looked at me. The emotion of the minute was accusation. “My station?”
Dad walked down the long aisle with four chairs and mirrors on each side. The shop was empty, which was strange for that time of day—something he’d no doubt planned with Nora. He stopped at the last chair on the left. “I lost a man to Gentleman Clips a few weeks ago. I’ve been trying to replace him, but the combination of talent and a good work ethic is harder to find than Atlantis.” He patted the back of the chair in a silent order for Ramsey to sit down.
He obeyed, and my dad wrapped him in a cape.
With a set of clippers buzzing in his hand, he asked, “My girls tell me part of your parole means getting a job.”
“Yeah. I got a few leads today.”
Using his free hand, Dad nudged the back of Ramsey’s head until his chin hit his chest. The buzzing returned as he went to work shaping up Ramsey’s hair on the back of his neck.
It was something so simple. He’d probably had hundreds of haircuts since he’d been gone. But seeing my father take care of Ramsey with a gentle touch and a skilled hand made my heart swell.
He kept the clippers to his neck, rendering Ramsey immobile as he said, “Well, this isn’t a lead. You start tomorrow.”
“No offense, Mr. Hull, but I’d rather—”
“How’s Nora doing? She good? Happy? Healthy? Safe?”
And there it was. The guilt trip.
I smiled, crossing my arms over my chest, preparing for the show.
“She’s great,” Ramsey answered, his eyes finding mine in the mirror. “We were both really lucky she had you and Thea while I was gone.”
My exhale became painfully lodged in my throat as I held his gaze. Holy shit, had he actually said something positive about me? It hadn’t been grumbled or rumbled, either. No cussing or seething. My vision swam, hope spiraling in my chest that this was some kind of magical turning point for us. And even if it wasn’t, it was a start.
I lost his eyes when my dad guided his head to the side to trim around his ear.
“We were lucky to have her. And I’m going to be lucky to have you here as well. I need someone I can trust, Ramsey.”
“I’m a convicted felon, Mr. Hull. That guy isn’t me.”
The buzzing sound suddenly stopped. “That’s not what I heard during our visit a few years back.”
I was relatively sure there hadn’t been an invasion and there were no bullets falling from the sky, but each one of his words pierced through me all the same.
“What?” I gasped. “You visited him?” I looked at Ramsey. “You let him visit you?”
Why did that hurt? After all this time, why did that feel like a knife of betrayal landing in my back, knowing that my own father had been allowed to visit him while I’d been emotionally and physically locked out of his life?
My dad ignored me, kicking back on the clippers and leaning Ramsey’s head to the opposite side. “I mean, I remember a lot of that conversation. Maybe I should refresh your memory in case you forgot about it.”