Page 107 of Tanner

A memory of words Missy spit when we were at dinner repeats in my head.

“And it got her pushed off a cliff.”

It was such an odd choice of words, and it has been nagging at me for days. If a deer jumped out and her death was an accident, then why would Missy say she was pushed off a cliff?

I flip the report to see more photos of the car. The car is demolished. I wonder if the deer was on the scene as well. I don’t see one. I look at the photos again. I’ve never seen an accident like this. One where the driver died on impact. One where the victim was my mother-in-law. It’s hard to explain this feeling I have. It’s like something is pecking at me, pushing me to keep looking. I have no idea what I’m looking at really. It’s just something that won’t stop.

“You had your sights on our family dollar way before my mother’s death. You might have a hold on my father, but you do not own us brothers.”

I wonder if Tanner has this nagging feeling, too.

A photo catches my eye, and I stare at a portion that’s seemingly buried under a bush at the base of the cliff, but it still makes me think. I know the car is totaled, and the tire rims are bent to all high hell, but one tire stands out to me because it’s completely gone. And I don’t just mean bent or ripped off. I mean, gone … with the rim and everything.

I hear the lock start to turn and quickly shut the drawer, not wanting Tanner to think I was snooping around.

In his hands are the bag of bagels and a Duane Reade bag. I curiously eye the plastic bag as he reaches in and pulls out a pair of cutting shears and a buzzer.

“What are those for?”

“My wife is going to give me a haircut.”

I raise a brow. “I don’t know how to cut hair.”

“There’s no one I’d rather cut my hair than you.”

I nearly drop my blanket. “You want me to cut off your hair? Like, all of your hair?”

The sexy smirk on his face means yes.

I rise. “Are you out of your mind? I love your hair.”

“No, you don’t,” he states matter-of-factly.

Okay, he’s right; I hate it. But, “I love everything about you.”

“Except for my hair.”

“I’m not doing this.” I cross my arms.

With a steady gait, he walks up to me and peels the blanket from my shoulders. With his lips on the base of my neck, he speaks into my skin, “If I’m going to let you sign a contract saying you don’t love me for my money, then I am going to let you cut my hair because I know that would make you happy.”

I groan as his hands dance around my hips.

“I don’t want you to change for me.”

“Sweet Harper, I’ve been changing at an impossible rate since the moment I met you. Besides, it’s time I grow up. I’m a married man who needs his wife to give him a haircut.”

“Fine. But, if you don’t like it, we’re growing it back.”

* * *

When I told my principal about our wedding plans and how I was requesting a few days off, to my surprise, he came back saying congratulations and gave me the full five days off. I’m not one to call in sick or take long weekends, so I have a ton of days banked.

If I didn’t think Tanner was gorgeous already, I absolutely do now that he let me cut his hair. I was so nervous about him hating it. I kept it longer than he was probably expecting and buzzed the bottom with the trimmer for a neat look. It was a little crooked, but when he came home the next day, I knew he had gone to the barber for a cleanup.

I wasn’t mad for two reasons. One, I’d already known I was awful at haircuts. Two, did I mention he looks impossibly gorgeous?

While he is spending the day planning an amazing trip to Saint Lucia for the two of us, I told him I had to run errands before I leave the country. If he knew I was going to see my dad, he’d want to come with. I snuck one of the photos from his mother’s accident out of the file and quietly left the house.