Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 145676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
He pulled the shirt over his head, handing it over the door. “I didn’t tell you I was going on a date.”
“You’ve been my client for almost ten years, and you’ve never been this picky. It has to be a date,” she called out.
He chuckled under his breath. Yep, she knew him. He wasn’t going to confirm or deny her observation and began unbuttoning his pants.
“Hey, have you seen any birds in here?” He had to know. All these weird coincidences had to have an explanation.
“No. Why?” Her tone sounded confused and maybe a little on the you-so-crazy side.
“I was just wondering,” he said, kicking off his shoes.
“About birds?” she questioned. That time there was a distinct insinuation of crazy.
He really didn’t feel like explaining. How could he? He’d come off as either sad or deranged, making her tone dead-on correct. “Never mind. It’s crazy, and I’m going to be late to my appointment.” He tossed the slacks over the door. He’d lost some weight and was between sizes, so he needed them taken in.
“I’m taking these downstairs. Leave the rest in the dressing room. I’ll get them when I get back. I’ll have your alterations ready by five.”
“Thanks, Krista.” Five o’clock was cutting it close, traffic could be a nightmare, but he didn’t try to rush her. It was almost one o’clock now, and he had hours of grooming ahead of him. “Throw in a bottle of Clive Christian.”
“Got it. Now get going. You’re late for your appointment.”
He quickly put on his jeans and sweatshirt, carefully tucking the feather in his back pocket. Glancing at his watch, he breathed a sigh of relief that the spa was just upstairs.
The lengths Landon went through to get the afternoon and evening off from his volunteer position were insane. He had to promise to continue volunteering at the PT clinic at least one day a week for the next month after he was released to full duty.
He’d been perfectly—sort of perfectly—okay with that. What concerned him was the tattoo parlor/barber shop the guys in PT had referred him to. Apparently, the chick that owned this place was a veteran and gave the best care to current and retired military. That was the good part. The worry came when the hard as nails female with a buzz cut of her own rounded the corner with what had to be seventy percent of her body covered in tattoos.
He narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. Maybe he should have given this idea more thought. To get all spruced up might have been better accomplished by going to one of those hair salons full of women, at least they would be up on the latest trends.
“You Landon?” Her raspy, harsh voice matched her exterior.
“I am,” he answered, pushing down all the doubt encouraging him to bolt.
“I’m Lottie. Come on back.” She jerked her head to the side, indicating the direction, and headed that way.
Landon followed, the blaring music growing louder the farther they went inside the shop. The place looked like any other tattoo parlor he’d been in, dark with lots of art and photographs on the walls. They passed several small rooms, each with a busy tattoo artist hard at work.
“What’s in the bag?”
Landon had forgotten he was holding the clothes he’d purchased—blue jeans and a button-front shirt. He’d also picked up a package of socks and splurged on a pair of shoes. “New clothes.”
“Want me to take ’em to the office?” They walked into an open room with four barber chairs—only one was empty. Other guys seemed to just be hanging around. When he crossed the threshold, the doorway seemed to dampen some of the hard rock music blaring from the shop speakers. The music and the ’50’s barber style set-up and décor made for an odd combination.
“Yeah, thanks.” He handed the bag to Lottie and started for the only free chair without being told.
“He’s gettin’ the works,” she announced loudly to the barber who would be doing his cut.
“Got it.” No other words were exchanged. There seemed to be an innate understanding of exactly what he wanted. Once the black cape snapped around his neck, he stayed in that chair for the next hour. The barber worked efficiently, doing a good job, all the while shooting the shit with all the men hanging around. It didn’t take long for Landon to settle in and just enjoy the environment.
With the towel wrapped around the edge of his freshly shaved face, Landon closed his eyes and listened to the conversations going on around him. There was something about men in a barber shop and their tall tales, each one trying to one-up the other.
“I’m just going to clean up the eyebrows. Keep the shape natural,” the barber said, right there in his face.
“Sure,” he replied, his eyes still closed.