said, her stride slower than her usual speed-walk pace.
“Five months.”
“You do know I don’t need a bodyguard?”
He thought it best to remain silent.
“I doubt anyone would put a bullet in my head because I run a company.”
He stopped and turned to face her, the lightness of their exchange evaporating. “You could be held at gunpoint and forced to do something against your will.”
“I do love it when you worry about me.” She patted his shoulder. “But I’m never alone except for when I fly internationally. And I travel by private jet and always carry the gun you taught me how to shoot. By the way…”
He raised an eyebrow at her silence.
“I missed you too.”
He didn’t respond. Rachel always pushed through whatever bothered her and played her part, until she could shed her facade in private, away from prying and judgmental eyes. But something was…off. “Something’s weighing on you.”
Her eyes darted up to meet his questioning gaze. “I’m incredibly grateful no one can read me the way you can.”
He scoffed. “Or Steven in accounting would know the reason you ride his ass so hard is because he keeps rearranging the office kitchen.”
“Who does that!” Rachel pulled her sunglasses off and planted her hands on her hips. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. How the hell would you even know that? You aren’t at the office.”
She didn’t need to say it, but Bull knew these moments were the reason she missed him most. Unguarded times when she could revert to the woman she used to be before carrying the weight of the well-being of her employees on her shoulders.
“You video called me the other morning and I noticed the stink-face when he entered the room. I asked Anthony if the guy did anything to break up your routine and he mentioned the kitchen. Besides, your staff loves office gossip, especially if it involves the boss. It was easy getting the intel.”
She shook her head and laughed. Hooking her arm back with his, she pulled him along and resumed their walk, filling him in on the office gossip relating to the board. He kept one ear attentive to their conversation while he remained focused on their surroundings.
Less than an hour later, they arrived at the salon and were greeted by Serg.
“Bull?” he said, flattening a hand to his chest. “I wasn’t expecting you to join us.”
Rachel stilled. “Please tell me it’s just us here.”
With a wince, Serg ducked his head and quickly shut the door behind them with a nod.
After checking every door and window in the salon, Bull took a seat at one of the stations, ignoring the casual glances Serg threw his way. Not gonna happen, buddy.
Random hookups had never been his thing. His ex-partners—even his own father—assumed his bisexuality equated to promiscuity. He was tired of fighting that misconception.
Bull had front row seats to relationships filled with trust, loyalty, and respect. He had been raised by parents who loved each other immensely. Visited a grandfather who had loved his wife deeply for over sixty years. Bull wanted that…ached for that same connection with someone. But he hadn’t found the right person to share that dream with.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
As usual, there was an undercurrent to Serg’s question. A suggestion. An offering. He stared at Serg, his firm square jaw and those piercing blue eyes. His dark hair was bleached to appear as if he were a natural platinum blond, the way only a hairstylist with his skill could pull off. His hair was a stark contrast to his perfectly shaped thick dark eyebrows, yet they worked well on him. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Rachel tells me you’re getting a haircut today.”
He glanced over at Rachel and narrowed his eyes at her.
“Do you trust me?”
Bull met Serg’s gaze again. He sure as hell wouldn’t trust the man in a relationship, but he couldn’t deny Serg had mad skills at his job and could likely make even the little bits of hair on a Chinese Crested Chihuahua look sexy.
“To cut my hair,” Bull clarified with a nod, emphasizing each word, not missing the flash of disappointment in Serg’s eyes.
Serg gripped the armrests of Bull’s chair and leaned forward, his pose dominant and the twitch in his grip flexing the lean muscles of his forearms. The guy was definitely persistent. “You’re my biggest regret,” he whispered. “The what-ifs kill me.”
“What if we move on and forget it ever happened. As friends,” Bull added the last, extinguishing the spark of hope he had