I began at the bottom, trimming away the hair that covered his neck. He’d needed a haircut before we started our little adventure, and now, it was downright shaggy. When I worked my way toward the top, I had to stand in front of him to check the length of my cuts, something that had been unremarkable when I’d cut my father’s hair. But with Tamir, it was an entirely different experience.
Standing before him, my legs touching his so I could get close enough for the proper angle, I tried to focus on my work. I tried to ignore his hungry stare pressing against me, but I was weak, and my eyes were repeatedly drawn to his. When our gazes would collide, it was a hit of heroin straight to my bloodstream. Exhilarating. Powerful and disorienting. Like the bindings that held me to the earth were stripped away, and I might float off into the sky forever.
I wanted this man so badly that my muscles ached with need.
But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not unless he knew everything. I hadn’t planned to tell potential boyfriends or even a husband about my past, but Tamir was different. He already knew so much, and it felt like a betrayal to keep the rest from him. To build something with him under a false pretense. It felt wrong, dirty.
Yet I couldn’t make the words form on my lips to admit the final truth. I could imagine his dark eyes turning harsh, judgment twisting his features. Just the thought doused my desire with an icy bucket of water.
“All done,” I breathed, a knot of emotion balling in my throat. I gripped the scissors in my fist as I walked around to face him, making sure to keep several feet between us. “You’re welcome to grab a shower first if you want to get the hair off.” Each of my words and movements reeked of awkward tension.
I could see the confusion in Tamir’s face, but he didn’t press the matter.
“Your hair takes longer to dry, so you go ahead. A little bit of hair trimmings won’t bother me.”
“All right, thanks.” I gave him a tight smile and fled for the cabin, feeling every bit the coward I was.
Chapter 19
Tamir
Birches was a local restaurant and bar hangout filled with rugged individuals in flannels and canvas work pants. There was a bar close to the entry, a pool table on the opposite end of the room, and a crowd of tables in the middle. They served standard small-town American fare in poor lighting while an ancient jukebox played songs from decades past.
By the look on Emily’s face, you’d think I’d taken her to the Russian Tea Room back home.
Seeing her so happy was worth whatever minimal risk was associated with our outing. Her happiness made me happy, and that was a dangerous response for me to have. All of my emotions and reactions were slipping from my control. I wasn’t sure if she noticed, but I had to grip my hands in my lap while she cut my hair to resist touching her. I’d been involved with plenty of sexy women in my life, but no one compared to Emily. The way she ran her hands through my hair. The rub of her legs against mine. Even something as simple as a haircut had felt borderline pornographic.
When she was lost in the process, her lips would purse and plump. It killed me. For once, I was glad the water in the cabin shower was ice cold. It forced my mutinous body back into submission.
Being with her would complicate things, but I wasn’t sure I cared anymore. Unfortunately, it was obvious that she did care. She wasn’t ready to go there. I didn’t understand it, but I would respect her wishes without argument. For now.
“What are you getting?” she asked, drawing me back to our dinner.
“I think I’ll have the salmon plate.”
“That’s very health conscious of you.”
“Why? What are you getting?”
She grinned mischievously. “The chicken fried steak. I haven’t had one in ages.”
“I didn’t grow up eating fried food, so it doesn’t appeal to me much.”
“Oh, man. You missed out. We used to fry everything. TexMex isn’t the healthiest dietary culture to be born into, but man, is it delicious.”
The waitress arrived to take our orders. Emily ordered a beer, so I did the same. I could tell she was tickled to see me do something so normal as drink a beer. It wasn’t my drink of choice, but if it helped her lose herself for a bit and pretend she was living an ordinary life, beer was an easy sacrifice.
Much like Cinderella, Emily’s fairy tale would end when we left this place and went back to the cabin in the woods. Equally as unfortunate, I was no Prince Charming. I didn’t know what I was to her, but regardless, I felt protective of her.
It was excruciatingly fucked up.
I had lied to her, led her away from her home on false pretenses, and now, I wanted to get in her pants? I could honestly say I was walking a very fine moral line—one I had been all too eager to judge others for crossing in the past.
At the very least, I needed to admit that I had feelings for the woman and that I wasn’t going to be collecting her bounty. Nothing was deplorable enough about her to justify the price on her head.
That being the case, our time at the cabin had come to an end. But what did that mean? If I took her back home, there was a very real chance another hunter could find her and take her life. Could I live with that? I’d grown to know her, care for her. The more my feelings for her morphed, the longer I’d kept her at the cabin because I couldn’t, in good conscience, throw her to the wolves.
If I was being honest, that wasn’t the only reason.
I liked Emily. I enjoyed learning about the complicated woman and found myself fascinated with every new facet I unearthed. But most importantly, I respected her. And if I had any hope of her respecting me in return, I needed to tell her the truth. Tell her about the bounty. If I was walking away from her, she ought to know there was a price on her head so she could protect herself. I would also need to tell her about my role in her situation. She would be furious, but if we were parting ways, her anger would be inconsequential.
But what if I wasn’t willing to let her go?
A primal, selfish part of me demanded to consider that alternative. I could keep her for myself, and then, I would know she was safe. In that case, telling her about my interest in her bounty would jeopardize any chance we had to be together. Could I keep my profession and the lies I’d told from her if we tried to have a relationship? Did I want to keep such a monumental secret?
During our entire evening out, I was consumed with questions. I tried to keep the mood light, but inside, my gut twisted with indecision—something I rarely struggled with. I kept those conflicted emotions to myself and was pleased to see Emily having a wonderful time. That was, until a pair of bikers swaggered into the restaurant and sat at the bar. She visibly stiffened in her chair, and I watched as the blood drained from her face.
Both men wore black leather vests over their clothes and had tattoos peeking up from their collars. I could see how they might be intimidating at first glance, but their posture was easygoing, and they were more interested in the food than a fight.
“Emily, look at me,” I commanded softly, waiting to continue until her eyes were on me. “There’s nothing to worry about. Everything’s going to be fine, okay?”
She nodded and put a smile back on her face, but she wasn’t the same after that. We finished our food, indulging in a rich dessert, then paid our tab and left. Only after we were in the car on our way back to the cabin did the tension in Emily’s posture ease.