Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Oh. My. Wow.
2
TOMMY
Have you ever met someone so instantly dynamic that your brain needed an extra moment to process their sheer…loveliness?
Well, that was what happened to me. And yes, that sounded nutty, but it was true.
Noah was dazzling. He positively sparkled.
True statement.
His eyes and his smile worked in harmony, captivating and charming helpless citizens such as myself into a state of awe. Or maybe it was the iridescent teal-and-gold merman on his skintight black shirt that matched his eyeliner and the glitter on his high cheekbones. I’d never met anyone so innately…magical.
On paper, he should have been ordinary. He was a couple of inches shorter than my six one; lean and toned with raven hair, light-brown eyes, and a perfectly smooth-shaven square jaw. But something in the details made him…interesting-looking. His full lips, the freckles on his nose, and that glitter. Let’s just say I’d bet no one had ever kicked him out of bed for eating crackers.
How was I supposed to communicate with this being?
I brushed my palms together before finally shaking his hand. I couldn’t speak, though. Nope. I wasn’t ready for words.
Darcy helped me out. “This is Mr. Thomas Hartwell, Jase’s friend. He’ll take good care of you, darling. Won’t you, Noah?”
The beautiful one smiled. “Of course.”
“Fab! I have to run. It’s madness out front.” Darcy squeezed my arm reassuringly, leaving me with Noah, the magically enchanting hair person.
Noah patted the leather chair. “Take a seat, Thomas. Tell me about yourself.”
“Me? I’m…” I pointed at my chest, then my head. “I need a haircut.”
“You’ve come to the right place.”
“Yes. Yes.” I hiked my thumb over my shoulder. “I noticed various styling techniques in progress, and I think I need that. The hair thing. Styling of hair. I mean…just a cut. Of hair. From my head.”
Oh…wow. Every word was a jumbled mess. I was sweating now. I hoped my deodorant held up, ’cause my skin felt clammy everywhere. My hands, my feet, my arms…even my nose. My glasses didn’t want to stay on my face. I pushed them up once, twice, and on the third try, I accidentally dislodged a lens from the frame.
Not to worry. This happened all the time. I caught it before it hit the ground and popped the lens into place, wiping my fingerprints off on the hem of my oxford shirt.
“All set?” he asked with a smile when I slid them on my nose again.
“Yes.” I took a seat as instructed and met his gaze in the mirror.
“Do you want to do the honors?”
“Huh?”
“You’ll need to remove your cap.”
“Oh, yes. Sorry.” I shimmied my borrowed baseball cap off and unleashed my mop.
Noah widened his eyes. “How’d you get that hat to stay on?”
“Uh, it wasn’t easy,” I admitted. “My roommate has a big head, so…this might be an extra-large cap.”
“Hmm. You have a lot of hair.” He held a floppy piece away from my eyes. “Super thick, too. What can I do for you?”
“Cut it.”
Another smile. “Did you have anything particular in mind? Short everywhere or maybe a bit longer on top? Or…did you just want to tidy it up?”
So many questions.
I swallowed hard. “Short everywhere, please. But not buzzed.”
“Got it.” He pulled a smock from a nearby shelf and spread it over me, fastening the Velcro at my nape. “Let’s shampoo first, shall we?”
I nodded, causing my glasses to slip again. But this time I couldn’t rescue them with my arms trapped under the smock. “Oh, shoot.”
I fumbled to free my hands, flailing like a fish out of water. Noah got there first. He put his finger on the taped frame and gently pushed them into place.
“That’s better, but…maybe you should leave them here,” he suggested.
“I can’t see without them. Like…at all.”
“Okay, the glasses can stay. Follow me.”
The shampooing segment of a haircut was generally a quick business at the barbershops I usually frequented. I’d been to a few places that didn’t wash your hair at all, and I was okay with that too.
But this wasn’t the type of salon that skipped steps. I soon realized that the clientele here expected a spa-like experience, including leisurely shampooing and deep-conditioning to go along with color treatments and whatever else was in style these days. That sounded nice, but I was woefully unprepared to have Noah’s fingers in my hair, massaging my scalp, and turning me into goo.
Thankfully, he didn’t attempt conversation while he worked his magic. I wasn’t sure I could have managed anything coherent. Lying with my eyes closed while a sexy man with glittery cheeks scrubbed and soothed was a shockingly intimate endeavor. I’d never thought so when Bill from Barber Barn had washed my hair.
Then again, Bill was my grandfather’s age and smelled vaguely of burnt toast and tobacco. Noah smelled divine—like peppermint and vanilla…and something sensual.
I concentrated on my breathing and the feel of his talented fingers. I could imagine them unbuttoning my shirt, his palm splayed on my chest and—