Beauty and Her Boss

So he was worried about the scars. He couldn’t hide from them forever. Maybe facing up to them would be his first step back to the life he’d left behind after the accident.

She stepped closer to him. “I’d like to see you. The real you beneath all of that hair.”

He looked at her as though gauging her interest. “And what if I’m a scary mess?”

“I’ll still think you’re handsome.” Now where had that come from? She couldn’t believe she’d uttered those words, even if it was the truth.

His eyes widened with surprise. “Really? You’re not just saying that because you pity me? Which is ridiculous considering I lived and your aunt didn’t. Listen to me. I just keep rambling...”

She kneeled down next to him. With her hands, she smoothed his hair back from his face. “There you are. Yes, you’re definitely the most handsome man I know.”

There she went again, saying the first thing that popped into her mind. But this time, when Deacon reached up and wrapped his hand around her wrist, she didn’t regret speaking the truth.

“Okay. I’ll do it,” he said, “as long as you do the haircut and shave.”

That wasn’t exactly what she’d imagined when she’d proposed the idea. Still, if he was willing to take this big step with her, who was she to deny him?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

HER HEART POUNDED in her chest.

After gathering the supplies she needed, Gabrielle stood there in Deacon’s bathroom holding a razor.

What if she messed up? She wasn’t a barber or a hairdresser. Sure she could trim her own bangs when her hairstyle dictated. But there was a big difference between trimming bangs and trimming a man’s entire head, on top of giving him a shave.

But with his dominant hand still not working well enough for him to manage a razor, what choice did she have?

Call a professional? The idea was so appealing and yet, she knew that it was an impossibility. Deacon was so certain that beneath all of that hair that he was a monster. And this was her one chance to prove him wrong.

The truth was she didn’t know what she’d find beneath his beard. She prayed that in his mind, he’d made the scars much worse than they were in reality. No matter what he looked like, she had to let him know that he wasn’t some sort of beast.

The fact that he trusted her enough to allow her to shave and trim him wasn’t lost on her. They had come a very long way since she’d started working at the estate. She remembered how awkward it felt working in that office, knowing that he was on the other side of a locked door.

But at the time, she hadn’t understood that he had such significant injuries from the accident. That certainly wasn’t how the accident was portrayed in the news. In fact, she was beginning to think that nothing in the media was as it seemed.

“Did you change your mind about revealing the real me?”

Deacon’s voice jarred her out of her thoughts. “No. Of course not. I’m just trying to decide if I should start with your hair or your beard.”

“The hair. That way after you’re done shaving me, I can jump in the shower.”

“You’re sure about this?” She had to hear his answer one more time.

“I am.” He studied her for a moment. “If you are.”

“I am.” She sucked in a calming breath. It didn’t work, but she focused on the task at hand instead of her lack of experience.

Trading the razor for a pair of scissors, she set to work. She drew on her memories from her own haircuts and her experience trimming her dad’s hair when he was in rehab. Gaby took her time, not wanting to mess up. She knew there was a lot riding on this particular haircut.

Her stomach was a nervous, jittery ball of nerves. Lucky for her, her hands remained steady. A cut here. A cut there. The trimmed locks of hair piled up on the floor. And all the while, Deacon remained quiet.

She walked around his chair, checking for any uneven spots. There was one by his left ear. With great care, she trimmed it.

And in the end, he retained both ears, and no blood was shed. It wasn’t the most stylish haircut, but considering his hair before, it was a large improvement.

Deacon lifted a hand and ran it over the short strands.

“Do you want to look in the mirror?”