Coming Home to Seashell Harbor (Seashell Harbor #1) - Miranda Liasson Page 0,87
cleaning skills would make Gran proud.
As the sky faded to indigo over the sea and the summer surf churned softly in the distance, she was filled with that familiar longing again, rolling through her stomach and making her heart beat with anticipation—but for what exactly? Sex? Admittedly, yes, sure. For connection, love, the start of a real relationship?
It had only been four months since Cooper. How could she know what she wanted in that short amount of time?
And she was leaving.
And what if he left her? He’d done it once before. She understood all his angst over his injury, his need to restart his life…and how all that uncertainty could lead to another heartbreak.
And that’s not even mentioning the building.
All great reasons to go running in the opposite direction. Yet her heart whispered, Stay. And the very air felt electric with possibility after those incredible kisses on the beach. Try as she might, she simply couldn’t muster up any regrets.
As if sensing her turmoil, Cam walked over to the chair vacated by Ollie. Hadley thought he was going to pick it up and carry it back into the house, but he sat down instead. “Actually…,” he said, raking his hands through his hair and shooting her a sheepish half-smile. “Would you mind?”
“Mind?” Mind what?
He smiled at her confusion. “I’m sort of desperate for a haircut. They want me to take photos tomorrow with the team.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Of course he was, because he could afford a two-hundred-dollar haircut. And getting one for a picture with a high school team? Hardly a hair emergency.
Plus…if he was serious, which she very much doubted he was, in order to cut his hair, she’d have to touch him. And that would remind her again of their time at the beach and…well, she was shaking a little just thinking about it. “I literally haven’t done a guy in years,” she said.
Oh no. Did she actually just say that? “I mean, cut a guy’s hair. I haven’t done an adult male haircut in a long time.”
Okaaay. Maybe that would scare him enough to redirect this conversation.
He sat there unfazed, his full lips quirked up in a smile. “I’m sure cutting hair is like riding a bike.”
“You never forget how to do it?”
“You might fall off and get hurt, but you get back on and discover it’s not so scary as you thought—with the right person.”
She frowned, pretty sure they weren’t talking about haircuts anymore.
Hadley crossed her arms and tried to rein this discussion in. “Maybe I used to cut your hair back in the day when you were saving every penny.” She held up her hands defensively. “But I really don’t want to be known as the one who ruined Tony Cammareri’s hair.”
“You used to do a really nice job, remember?”
Oh no. No, no, no. She did not want to remember. Yes, she used to give him haircuts, but…but there were certain other things that went along with those haircuts. Like talking and laughing and kissing. Sometimes lots of kissing. And other things. Haircuts that devolved into full blown make-out sessions that ended up…well, where they would’ve ended up if those kids hadn’t shown up.
Yeah. She was suddenly having another hot flash, twenty years too soon.
When she’d hated him, she didn’t think about the possibility of him walking into her house and her life and her bed. She didn’t have…fantasies. She didn’t…imagine. When you didn’t indulge in pretending, you didn’t set yourself up for another heartbreak.
And he just might be a heartbreak waiting to happen.
And she was a smart woman. She’d let him break her heart once. But twice? Never.
“You’re not afraid, are you?” he asked.
“Afraid?” She swallowed hard. “Of ruining your hair?” She was as afraid of touching him, yet the pull toward him was a magnet she was completely helpless against. “You can afford to have someone fly in from New York straight to your doorstep and cut your hair. You don’t need an amateur who learned her trade from YouTube videos.”
“Please?” He rubbed his neck in a self-conscious gesture she found endearing. “It’s getting really long.” Then he pointed to the top of the brick garden wall. “Look, all your stuff is right there.”
He was prodding her. Egging her on in his usual amiable, irresistible way.
She was kidding if she told herself this was just a haircut. Touching him would be, in this case…intimate. Sensual. And it would have consequences she wasn’t sure she was ready for.