Chapter 7
I must have been dreaming.
I spent an amazing morning with Logan in bed doing the kinds of things I'd only read in Romance Novels.
Hot. Steamy.
And yes, I was aching the next day.
And loving every stinking minute of it.
I smiled to myself as I unlocked the barber shop door and mumbled under my breath.
"Everyfuckingminute."
Oh my lord, did I just say that?
Out loud?
"Fucking."
I turned around to look at the empty room, making sure I was alone.
Thank goodness I was.
Tucking my keys into the cross-body purse I always carried with me on workdays, I flicked on the light switch and smiled.
Close Cuts.
My barber shop.
Mine.
I'd just signed the contract with the previous owner of the shop, Mister Shackleford, a few days ago and I'd put up a few posters and brought in a few plants to change up the feeling of the shop from a spartan white and grey to something with color and warmth. I didn't have the money to do much more and I was 'renting to own' as the paperwork said, so even if I had a bunch of money, it was all precious.
My first priority was getting people in the doors so I could cut their hair.
That wasn't going to be easy.
Sure some people had come in and after assurances from Old Mister Shackleford, they'd let me cut their hair for them. They said they'd come back.
And that was good, but I was 'new' and since Mister Shackleford had completely retired, he wasn't going to be in the shop to reassure people that I'd do a good job.
So, I had to do this on my own.
God knows anyone could get trimmers online.
So, I had to hope that people gave me a chance.
The phone rang on the desk, and I hurried across the room to answer it.
Mister Shackleford said that most of his customers would call in.
Not to make an appointment but to see if he was open.
He only came in a few days a week and some days, unless he knew that someone was coming in, he'd stay home.
I picked up the phone and tried to school my voice to sound like I was calm.
