“So, whatcha got goin’ on today?” I ask Azalea as we walk to our cars.

“Nothing much. Grocery shopping, meal planning, that kinda stuff. You?”

“Nothing much. Gonna head over to my parents’ place and visit for a bit.” Leaning against the hood of Azalea’s little matchbox car, I reach a hand out toward her to stop her from going past me. “I know they’d love to see you.”

“Oh, um. Maybe next time? I really need to get to the store.” She’s full of crap, and we both know it, but whatever. She needs time, and that’s fine.

“Sure thing, Little Bit. Next time.” I rise to my full height and open her door for her. Once she’s seated and buckled, I start off toward my truck. With one last look back at her, I tell her to drive safe, and then I get into my truck and start the trek home.

* * *

It’s been two weeks since Azalea and I babysat together, and aside from a few scattered text messages, she’s been ducking me, and I’m fed up with it. Needing time is one thing—and after what I know she heard on the baby monitor, I’m sure she does need some time—but ignoring me is something else entirely, and it’s not gonna fly.

No way, no how.

So, I’ll catch her where I know she can’t escape. Her salon. No appointment, no warning. It’s perfect.

“Drake Collins, I don’t see you on our appointment book today,” Seraphine says, wagging her finger at me with a twinkle in her dark brown eyes.

“That’s because I’m not. Does Azalea have time to fit me in?”

“Hmm. Magnolia could fit you in quicker than—”

“Nah, I don’t mind the wait. How long’s it gonna be?”

“About twenty minutes.”

I turn and make myself comfy in one of the waiting room chairs. “That’ll be just fine, Seraphine.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Sure thing, Drake. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

“Totally unnecessary. It’s a surprise visit.”

Seraphine shakes her head, her dark chocolate eyes full of mirth, but she goes back to whatever she was doing at the computer, thank God. Because I’m counting on the element of surprise to work in my favor here. If she knows I’m here, she’ll start working on getting her walls up, but if I catch her off guard, I might just catch her unguarded, if you know what I mean.

To pass the time, I play around on my phone, checking social media and shooting the shit with Simon and Cash in our group text. I impress myself by only checking the time every five minutes, but my God, it really does feel like an eternity waiting on her. I’m anxious and ready to see her. Two weeks is too long. Hell, one day is too long. I’m a needy man when it comes to Azalea Barnes.

I perk up when I hear the sound of her sweet voice coming closer. “You have a wonderful day, Mrs. Jones, and be sure to tell Seraphine to book extra time at your next appointment so that we can do those lowlights.”

She doesn’t walk far enough into the room to see me, so I stand and follow behind her to her station. She grabs the broom and starts sweeping but jumps and throws it down when she catches my reflection in the mirror. “Holy guacamole, you scared the ba-jeezus outta me!”

I cover my smile with my fist. “I can see that.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Need a haircut,” I tell her, claiming her chair.

She scowls her trademark scowl at me, her eyes drilling into me like lasers. “So, make an appointment.” She turns to walk away, but I reach out and snag her wrist.

“Don’t need one,” I tell her, knowing it will make her that much more irritated. I know these games are stupid, but her ire gets me so hot.

“You most certainly do,” Azalea replies, her cheeks red with anger.

“Pretty sure there’s a sign in the window that reads Walk-ins welcome. You’re certainly not making me feel very welcome. Not at all. Which, as the owner of this establishment, you should know is bad for business.” I wag my finger at her, with a tsk-tsk to really drive home my point.

“Drake Ulysses Collins, you get your ass up right now!” Azalea hisses through her clenched teeth. Her eyes are so big they look like they might pop right on out of her head.

“Nah, don’t think so. You get your cute ass over here and buzz my hair down.”

“No!”

“Now.” It’s a battle of wills, and like I said, I’m not just playing to win—I’m playing to keep. We remain frozen, staring one another down, until she rolls her eyes and stomps back over to me, like I knew she would. Drake, 1. Azalea, 0.

With a snap of her wrists, she has the cape draped around me. She shoots me an evil gleam before pulling it as tight as it will go, damn-near choking me. “Take it easy, Bit,” I croak, only to be whopped upside the back of my head with her comb. “What the hell?” I yell at her, but she just smiles and pops the guard she knows I like onto her clippers.

With one hand planted on the top of my head, she uses the other to move the clippers through my hair, buzzing it down in fluid movements. Azalea takes her time, dragging out my simple buzz cut because she thinks it’ll annoy me. She couldn’t be more wrong. Hell, for half the haircut, her perky C cups are all up in my face, and for the rest of it . . . her hands are on me, and there’s not a single thing annoying about any of that. No, I fucking love it.

“There, all done, assface.”

“Assface, huh? That an invitation?”

“God! You’re so gross!”

Grasping the front of the cape with both hands, I pull until it unsnaps. I rise from the chair and take two steps toward Azalea, effectively backing her into her station. “Gross? You think I’m gross?” I gently run my nose up her neck, lingering just below her ear. “Now, you don’t mean that, do you?” My voice is hoarse and low, and the sound of it causes Azalea’s skin to break out in goose bumps.

“Sure do,” she fires back, but her tone—all soft with want— betrays her words.

I take a step closer, leaving not even an inch between us. “We both know you’re lying through your teeth, but that’s okay, Bit. Best be glad we’re in your place of business, or I’d call your bluff.” I cover her lips with mine and tunnel my fingers into her long, blonde hair. “Or maybe I still will.” I speak the words against her lips, delighting in the feel of her rapid breaths. “Right here. Right now.” I punctuate the words with a kiss, hard and rough, before stepping back.

Azalea stands there, bracing herself against her station, almost as if she’d crumple to the floor without its support, and damn if that doesn’t make me feel like the king of the world. “Thanks for the haircut, Bit. You have a nice day, and when I call you later . . . answer.”

Turning, I walk to the counter and slap down two twenties before heading out the door. I know she’s gonna tear me a new one, and so be it, because it was more than worth it. Just to be next to her, to have her hands on me, to get a reaction out of her. I may be playing to win, but I never said I wouldn’t play dirty.