Virgin (The Henchmen MC 16)

Funny how time changed even the little things.

I couldn't claim to love all things girly, but I had to admit that I was looking forward to a little spa day after being on my feet, losing five pounds in pure sweat all week.

And, apparently, my hairstyle was 'very high maintenance' and required 'a trim every week and a half.'

Besides, I liked Benny.

And we would be picking up Jelena to bring with us for some pampering too, allowing Colson an afternoon to himself for a change. For as long as I was around, that was a habit I wanted to keep up. For Colson who deserved an occasional day to do whatever he wanted after taking on the whole responsibility of being a single parent. But also for Jelena, who I was really enjoying getting to know.

I never gave much thought to children. I had been too young when I went away to have considered it. And when I was inside, well, it was useless. Not that I wasn't surrounded by it. When you're locked up with a bunch of women, a lot of what they talked about was their children. How they were going to clean up for them, do better, get them out of the system, be a more significant part of their lives. There were endless photographs taped to the walls or lining the desks.

But when my plan was to get back out long enough just to get my revenge, well, it was pointless to torture myself with things I could never have.

Being around Jelena, though, it was making me really get to see something I would be giving up. The chance to be a mother, shape a life with stability like my mother had never been able to give us, with love that my aunt had never provided.

I shook my head, finishing ripping the top off of a frozen push-up yogurt, handing it over the center console to Jelena, secured in her car seat, legs and arms flailing out as she sang along to a song Thaddeus had blasting that I was pretty sure Colson wouldn't approve of.

"Do you and Uncle Thad go to the salon a lot?" I asked when the song winded down and she finally permitted us to get out of the car.

My hands wrestled with the straps of her car seat for a second, forgetting how tight the pieces clicked together, before lifting her small body out, her glittery Doc Martens catching the light as I set her on the sidewalk, taking the hand she immediately thrust up at me.

"Mmhm," she informed me. "They give me a lolly," she told me. "A big one."

"Think they will give me one?" I asked, making my voice low and hopeful.

"I'll make 'em," she promised me with a little hand squeeze I swear I felt in my heart as well.

As one would expect of ten in the morning on a weekend, the salon was packed. Mostly women sat in the chairs getting cuts and colors or at the tables in the back having their nails done. As we were led to our saved seats, a woman was led out of a room in the back. Waxing, I figured.

"You need to get your lady business handled? I can make her fit you in," Benny told me in a voice that wasn't hushed at all, making me glance around to my sides to see if anyone was listening.

"Oh, no. I don't need..."

"Oh, fuc--" Thad started, then eyed Jelly. "Fudge yes, she does. The way that beautiful biker man was slobbering all over her last weekend, I give it another couple of days before he comes banging on her door. And she will need to be all tamed down there."

"I am... plenty tamed enough," I told him in a low hiss. "Not that it is any of your business if I am tamed at all or not," I added with a pointed eyebrow raise. "I don't ask you about your tameness."

"Girl, you wanna see? Smooth as bowling balls at all times," he told me with a smile. "No one likes a mouthful of little hairs when they are all up in your business. Am I right?" he asked, looking over at Benny.

"He's right. I mean for us and the strickly-dickly sorts," he said then cast a guilty look at Jelly who was not paying attention now that a girl who was clearly her regular hairdresser was pulling her hair out of her braids, talking animatedly to her about her next style choice from a book Jelena had in her lap. "I don't know if the same rules apply for the lady cave. But given that most men these days have a stroke if a woman has some leg or underarm stubble, I imagine you need your hardwood floors waxed."

"Okay we are so not discussing this," I informed him even as my lips turned up.