Fortuity (Transcend 3)

“I … well …” She follows me upstairs. “I’ll stay here and watch the kids.”

“No. You won’t.” I sort through a half dozen hats in the dresser drawer.

“Please don’t let this ruin your summer here. I don’t want Gabe and Morgan to be affected by an equipment malfunction.”

I grunt a laugh, pulling on my baseball cap backward to get more coverage for the back of my head. Damn … I wish this woman didn’t look like my Jenna. She even argues like her—the perfect amount of stubbornness to balance her fear. When we first met, Jenna feared every little fight would end us.

“You’re staring at my hair again. Is it your wife? Or are you contemplating shaving my head in my sleep?” Gracelyn hugs her arms to her chest.

I eliminate the space between us, peering down at her until she swallows hard under my scrutiny. She botched up my hair. I deserve a few seconds of making her squirm. “Yes.”

Her full, rosy lips part. “Uh … yes what? Yes, you’re staring at my hair and thinking about your wife, or yes you’re contemplating shaving my head in my sleep?”

The smattering of freckles along her nose and cheeks reminds me that she’s not Jenna—that and her bigger breasts and slightly curvier hips.

“I have a strict man-ban,” she says in a breathy voice.

She’s beautiful. My ability to stand this close to her and think that without feeling guilty means I’m not a broken man. I’m just out of my element, out of practice, and maybe a little out of my mind.

“What’s a man-ban?”

Another hard swallow. “It means I’ve retired from dating and men in general.”

“And you’re telling me this because?”

After wetting her lips, she rubs them together. “Because you’re standing so close to me.”

I smirk and take a long step backward. “Better?”

Her shoulders relax. “Better.”

“I haven’t dated anyone since my wife died. So don’t read into anything I do as a threat to your man ban. And if I’m being honest, a bad haircut doesn’t do it for me.”

She scratches her throat, twisting her lips to the side. “You seemed to enjoy it until Morgan pointed out the tiny flaw. I heard several contented sighs and even a short hum.”

Rubbing my mouth, I hide my grin. “Fine. It was good until it wasn’t. Now, I have to go get it fixed, which will probably involve losing most of my hair. Hmm … that doesn’t sound amazing.” I sigh after my hum to let her know not all sighs and hums are good signs.

But … I did enjoy her fingers in my hair. Was it worth it? That’s yet to be determined. I’ll make that decision when I look in the mirror tonight before I go to bed.

“Did I mention I’m really sorry?” She curls her hair behind her ear and wrinkles her freckled nose.

I sidestep her and head toward the stairs. “Yes. You’ve been very generous with apologies and gratitude. You’re eternally welcome, and most likely I will always forgive you. How much more could you possibly screw up in the next eight weeks?”

“Please don’t say it like that.” She follows me to the kitchen. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on me to be perfect. So much could happen in eight weeks.”

I chuckle while sweeping up the hair mess. Although … it’s not much more than that initial strip of hair from the back of my head. What did she cut with the scissors?

As if she can read my mind, Gracelyn snatches the bagful of hair supplies from the table and shoots me a nervous smile. “I promised Gabe I’d take him to see his friend today.” She retreats a few steps. “So … I’m…” her thumb makes a jabbing gesture over her shoulder “…just going to go.”

“Okay.” I empty the dustpan into the trash can under the sink.

“You don’t have to thank me for my time.”

With my back to her, I freeze, eyes narrowed. She really just said that?

“But I’ll still thank you for the coffee. So … thanks for the coffee.”

I slowly turn toward her. She slides her hands into the back pockets of her frayed denim shorts. I keep my lips neutral, but inside I have the biggest damn grin clawing its way to the surface. Happiness comes in small packages. It’s not so much a state of mind, but a moment.

In this moment, I want to wipe that grin off her face. She ruined my hair. At the same time, I want to stare at her, try to figure out the little things—like stripping outside and stuffing lingerie into pockets. It’s been a long time since I had any sort of desire to figure out a woman.

“You’re welcome.” The smile breaks out along my face like the sun burning through the clouds. I can’t stop it. Usually, I can stop it. All I have to do is think of Jenna and how much I miss her—or Daisy, my best friend who died when we were kids.