it to Julian to find a life lesson in the plumbing aisle.
Julian shook his head and half smiled. “C’mon.” He slung his arm around Ben’s shoulder and led him down the aisle to the flatbed cart with his items.
= ♥ =
Bull glanced at his watch as the plane slowed on the tarmac. Rachel could command missions with her insistence of precision and schedule. He smiled as the jet door opened and a pair of red high heels appeared in the threshold, tapping until the bottom of the door touched the ground.
He waited in his at ease position.
Rachel Davenport was a carefully crafted facade decorated in bold-colored suits and polished red nails. At thirty-two, she enjoyed playing the role as she led the growing hotel empire she had been bequeathed. Especially if it meant giving the stuffy board members the proverbial finger and proving she was far more competent than the trophy wife who had married a business tycoon twice her age. It had taken her six months to pull herself out of her deep grief-stricken state after her husband’s unexpected death nearly six years ago, but she had finally accepted her role as the head of the company. And nothing had ever been the same again at Davenport Holdings.
She smiled the moment she spotted him waiting. Rachel looked stylish—as usual when she was in full character—wearing a sleeveless, off-the-shoulder black fitted dress with large black sunglasses, likely both from some fancy designer she followed. She looked bored as she brushed back her long blond hair. He held out his hand which she quickly took as she stepped onto the tarmac.
She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Sweetie, you need a haircut.”
“Nice to see you too.”
“You’re lucky that dimple is powerless against me.” She smiled when he shook his head, then hooked her arm in his as they walked toward the terminal.
“Why does that make me lucky?”
“Because you will always have a friend in me who is honest and trustworthy, rather than swayed by your boyish charm. It’s why I’m telling you…you need a cut.”
“Glad to see I still have boyish charm at my age.” He gave her a side-eyed glance.
She playfully smacked his bicep. “We’ve got a light schedule. I have a few business meetings early in the week but today is personal.”
“Okay.”
“You’re going shopping with me.”
He held back a groan. Shopping with Rachel was at the top of his list of Slow & Painful Torture Techniques.
“And I need to go to the hairdresser. Serg is in town and he’s expecting me.”
Correction. Serg topped that list. The man didn’t understand the meaning of the word no.
“And you’re getting a cut while we’re there.”
There wasn’t much that would sway Rachel when she set her mind to something, but it didn’t hurt to try. “I’m working.”
She waved off his concern and stopped walking, turning to face him. “He’ll lock down the salon for us so no one has access and you can relax.” She watched him carefully, for what, he had no clue. “Is there any chance…”
“Rachel—”
She raised her hand. “I’m sorry. I know I need to stop pushing you on this.”
He slowly raised an eyebrow. Over the years, she had attempted several love connections for him. Never pushing or going as far as planning a blind date, but her efforts to coordinate well-timed meetings had been obvious. All had failed with little grace and tons of apologies. But the love connection attempt with Serg had been her greatest failure.
He still remembered that day, with far more clarity than he cared to recall. Had she notified Serg of her surprise visit to town with Bull at her side and her intentions in mind, they likely wouldn’t have caught him smack in the middle of a threesome at the back of the salon with two people whose names Serg couldn’t even remember.
“He’s a horndog, but I like him,” she said, her full red lips pouting.
“I know you do.”
“And I like you.”
“I know you do.” He held out the crook of his arm, which she accepted again. “But it’s never going to happen,” he said as they resumed their walk toward the terminal.
She dramatically sighed. “I know. He’s lucky he’s so damn great with hair.”
“Don’t tell him that.”
She threw her head back and laughed—a simple act that had taken her years to accomplish after her husband’s passing. “Trust me. He knows he’s the best.” They walked out to Bull’s SUV, chatting and catching up. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in town,” she