“But what am I supposed to do in the off-season?” He acts like Pennsylvania is barren of any attractive women.
“You could always date a teammate’s wife,” Max calls over his shoulder sarcastically.
My spine goes rigid, and my temper goes from zero to one hundred. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Max and Shane had been close when Hannah’s soon-to-be ex-husband had still been on the Pistons, before they let him go over the domestic violence charges. It doesn’t surprise me that he’d make a comment, but the idiot is in my house, eating my food, and hanging out with our friends. If he was going to back Shane in any way, he could get the fuck out right now. And even if he was trying to make a stupid joke about what I was doing with Hannah, I wasn’t going to stand for it.
Max turns around with a goofy smile on his face. “I’m just busting your balls, man. It was a joke. It’s just … a couple of us have heard you’re spending some time with Hannah.”
Hayes begins to rise from the couch, and I know he senses the tension in the room. I wave him off, though the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up.
“Well, maybe a couple of you need to mind your own fucking business. What I do in my personal life should stay out of your mouth, and what is going on with Hannah and Shane is their business as well. It’s not a secret I’m on her side, as you should be too. If you’re even communicating with that guy, who beat his wife to a bloody pulp, you’re on the wrong side of this.”
Max’s easy-going expression falters. “Look, Walker, I didn’t mean anything serious by it—”
“But it is serious,” Hayes jumps in. “You weren’t there, you don’t know how ugly that got. Just … don’t talk about it, okay? And if Walker is trying to help a woman and her daughters out, then you should respect that.”
The rest of the guys stay silent, and Max looks at the floor. “Understood. No disrespect, Walker.”
I nod, trying to settle my rattled nerves. “Thanks.”
The rest of the night is fine, Clark even convinces some of the guys to play some video games, but I can’t get Max’s comments out of my head. If someone this close to me could make speculations, what is everyone else saying? Am I making things more difficult for Hannah?
And Hayes’ comments at the beginning of the night haunt me, too. I see myself getting serious with Hannah, even this early. But I’ll surely be the type of partner who is gone so often, it will be like home is a hotel. She has children, a whole other life that she’d have to make me a part of.
Is she willing to do that? Am I willing to do be a part of that knowing I’ll only be giving them fifty percent of myself, if not less?
16
Hannah
Hair, all different shades from black to blond, float into my dustpan as I sweep the floors of Siesta.
I’m about four hours into my workday, and it’s been a busy one. Aside from cleaning and shampooing, I got to assist on a balayage service for one of the other hairdresser’s clients. It’s one of the first coloring techniques I’ve been able to practice since I got hired here, and it feels so good to be painting hair and trying to create a masterpiece that someone would wear through their daily life.
That’s what I see doing hair as; creating art on a canvas that another person trusts you with. Giving them something beautiful to make them feel confident and unique each time they look in the mirror.
But now I’m tidying before I can go on my lunch break, and it isn’t a second too soon. My stomach is grumbling, and I often look forward to chats with the women in the small break room or just having an hour to myself to scroll through my social media feeds. I rarely get alone time these days, really haven’t in the last few years, and it’s nice to not have anyone to answer to while I eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
“Hannah!” someone calls from up front.
I realize I’m being summoned to the reception desk, which I can’t see from the back of the salon. There is a shiplap wall separating the front waiting area from the back where the chairs line up before mirrors, so I don’t see him until I make my way around it.
A smile stretches my mouth the instant he comes into view. “What are you doing here?”
Walker presents me with one singular rose. “I’ve come to take the most beautiful woman I know to lunch.”
I think every woman in the waiting area or behind the front desk, me included, just about passes out from the swoon spell he just cast.
“Well, isn’t that sweet?” Ginny walks to the front, eyeing Walker approvingly. “Hey, you’re that baseball player.”
Leanette, one of the receptionists, leans her very ample bosom against the front counter. “Oh my gosh, you are! My mom just adores you, and I love to watch your games, too.”
Two more of the hairdressers, Bridget and Kaitlyn, come walking up, trying to join the conversation.
I smirk at Walker, because it’s no surprise he walks into a business full of women and becomes the center of attention. But where Shane would soak this up and make some lewd comments, maybe hit on my coworker’s right in front of me, Walker is all gentleman.
“Why, thank you, I appreciate that you all follow the games. This is a real nice place you have here,” he says to no one in particular.
“Well, I’d hope so. You come in soon for a haircut, our girl Hannah will give you a real good shampoo.” Ginny waggles her eyebrows.
Oh God, she is trying to get me laid, or something like it.
“Okay, then, should we head out? Is it okay if I go on lunch?” I ask Ginny, trying to steer Walker away from the buffet of women trying to offer themselves up as his meal.
“You have fun.” She winks, definitely not in any sort of subtle way.
I’m chuckling as we leave the salon, walking toward his pickup. “Could you have caused more of a stir in there?”
“Your coworkers really know how to boost a man’s ego.”
“As if you need an ego boost,” I tease, in a way that I never would with another man.
But something about Walker puts me so at ease that I can be myself. The person I was before all the years of abuse.
“That’s right, I don’t, because you agreed to have lunch with me. All the boost I need.” He winks just like Ginny did, and I laugh.
“So, where are we going to eat?” I ask as I get in and buckle my seatbelt.
“Well, I did tell you I could cook, right? I thought a little lunch at my place would break up your day nicely.”
Not only has he thought of me enough to come pick me up and feed me, but he cooked it as well. “You’re suspiciously perfect, you know that? A man who cooks and takes me on daytime dates? I’m trying to find a flaw.”
Walker chuckles, and I can’t help but swoon over how his bicep flexes when he grips the steering wheel. “Oh, believe me, I have them. Except when it comes to you, I try really hard to smooth out all my wrinkles. After all, I’m just trying to impress the prettiest woman I’ve ever met.”
And now I’m blushing. “Like I said, too perfect.”
He turns the radio up as he laughs and starts singing along to a Brett Young song.