Page 64

After putting the toner in my hair, he casually suggested that we watch a movie.

Me and Ewen. Together. Just watching a movie. Together. In my house.

He paused it when I went to wash the toner out, and when I got back downstairs, he was waiting in the kitchen with a bright smile and the bottle of pink hair dye in his hands. His gloved hands.

I was coming to the humiliating realisation that I had a thing for seeing him in black latex gloves, and I had no idea why.

Probably just the universe deciding I hadn’t quite reached my peak of being a sad, horny loser for my hot wrestler neighbour.

“Were you really a hair stylist before?” I asked a while later as I sat perfectly still, trying to ignore the way my scalp tingled with pleasure as he brushed the dye on. “Or were you bullshitting me?”

He chuckled, and I suppressed a shiver when I felt his breath against the nape of my neck. “Wasn’t bullshitting you, kitten.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said automatically, blushing when I heard him huff in amusement. Fiddling with a crease in my pyjama pants, I asked, “So how did you end up at Goliaths?”

All of this was just so fucking weird. Conversing with him politely, without any of the snarkiness. Us eating together. Him dyeing my hair.

I didn’t know how I’d ended up in this position. I could barely remember my conversation with Neville, let alone waking up still slightly drunk this morning.

“I was working in a salon when I first moved here about four years ago, but I was already really into working out and strength training,” Ewen told me. “Used to go to the orc-run gym in town, and I guess Holt has connections there, because he must’ve heard about the dullahan working out there most mornings. You know us dullahans are pretty rare. So he showed up one day to offer me a job.”

My mouth twitched. “Really?”

“Yep. Swept into the gym one morning in a suit, sunglasses and that big pink coat, walked right up to me while I was using the chest press and asked if I’d ever considered a career in professional wrestling.” He chuckled. “When he heard my accent, he said, ‘Jesus fucking Christ, you’re perfect.’”

I huffed in amusement but didn’t answer, chewing on my lower lip, because… yeah. Holt wasn’t wrong about the accent. That deep southern drawl.

It was fucking annoying how hot he was. And how I now couldn’t stop noticing.

“So I thought, fuck it, why not?” Ewen continued. “And it worked out pretty damn good.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Hell yes. I fucking love it. Plus it meant I could eventually stop renting my crappy apartment and buy my own place.” I heard the grin in his voice as he added, “Next door to you.”

I huffed and rolled my eyes, then found myself—ugh—actually making conversation back. “This place was my grandma’s. When she died, she left it to my dad, but my parents were already planning on moving to Florida, so they let me live here.”

“Nice. You close with your parents?” He hesitated before adding, “Just don’t think I’ve ever seen ’em come over.”

“Nah. I went to stay with them a couple Christmases ago, but…” I shrugged. “We’re not all that close. Just not an overly loving family, I guess.”

He paused to squeeze my shoulder, which made me tense up even as my belly dipped.

Ewen was being… nice. It was freaking me out.

“Not even your granny?”

“Nah,” I repeated. “She wasn’t the loveable, cookie-making type of grandma. I don’t know if it’s a ghoul thing or whatever,” I added with a shrug, pulling my knees up to my chest. “We tend to, uh, like… form our own packs, I guess? Rather than just stay in family units.”

“Fair enough,” he said easily, then sat back. “Dye’s all on. Hope you’re not too attached to this T-shirt.”

“Um, nah, it’s just an old one.” I awkwardly twisted around on the towel so I wasn’t just sitting with my back to him. “Uh… thanks.”

He grinned at me, setting down the mixing bowl and brush to peel a dye-streaked glove off at the wrist with his teeth. My belly tightened. Then—fuck—my dick twitched.

“My pleasure, handsome.” His grin widened when I huffed and glared at him, before his eyes flickered down to my mouth. “So. You remember anything from last night yet?”

My gut plummeted with dread. I scrambled to my feet and strode toward the sink just to get away. “No.”