The Iron Predators, Part IV [SAMPLE]

Chapter 3

KNUCKLES

Since Carla's salon has an online booking system, I book a haircut and beard trimming the next day. They don't have a lot of customers in this small town, so I need to contribute.

Bull goes with me since he says that he needs to keep an eye on me. Not so much for Fiona's sake, but for my own since he's confident that I'll get an ass-kicking from Carla soon. He wants to see that and is a little too happy about it for my liking.

It's not like I'm gonna force myself on Fiona. I would never do that. I'm a nice guy. I just need to up my game and turn up the charm a little.

She'll melt, I know it. They all do.

We walk into the salon and I put on my most charming smile. "Hi, ladies."

Carla rolls her eyes at me, then gives Bull a kiss.

Fiona has a customer before me, an old lady who's really happy not to have to go to the next town to get a haircut, and she's more than happy about the result.

When she's left, Fiona cleans up her station, then says, "Knuckles," and looks at me.

I smile and walk over to sit down on the chair.

"Do you want me to wash your hair first?" she asks me.

"That would be nice," I tell her and we walk over to the washing station.

She puts the cape around me and attaches it around my neck with her small, delicate fingers. I look up at her, but she's focused on her job and doesn't pay me much attention. She's civil, she's nice, but nothing else.

She starts washing my hair and I let out a satisfied hum. It's really relaxing and nice. She's so gentle and has just the right temperature on the water. She dries my hair with a towel and we walk back to the cutting station.

I have a cutting station too, in the shed at the clubhouse, but that's a whole other type of cutting. You know, knives and stuff that're used for interrogation.

Maybe I shouldn't tell her that.

She asks me how I want my hair and I tell her to surprise me, with a grin. It's not like I have that long hair to work with, and I trust her to make me look good.

Pfft! I will whatever haircut I get.

"So, are you coming to the party on Friday?" I ask her since we're having a birthday party for Hacker.

"I haven't decided yet. We'll see," she says and blow-dries and styles my hair.

When she trims my beard and stands right in front of me, I try to make eye contact with her so I can draw her in. That usually does it...but no, she doesn't even look at me, except focusing on my beard.

"There you go. Is that ok with you or do you want me to take some more off?"

I want you to take your clothes off and straddle me, keep running your fingers through my hair and moan my name while you do it.

"It's perfect," I say and roam my eyes over her body, then give her a sexy smirk.

Not even that, she notices.

What the fuck!

She takes the cape off me and I stand up and follow her to the register.

"That'll be $29," she says and looks at me, still unfazed.

I pull out my card and pay, then lean on the counter on my forearms, making my muscles flex. "I think I need to come back here every week to get my beard trimmed. You're really good at it," I say, smirking. "I think you should come to the party on Saturday. I'll make you—"