Mistakes are mine! Loving every single one of your thoughts :) I ended up writing some Bella POV chapters this week, so we'll get to her from her in a bit - yay!
See you Monday.
8
As desperate as I am to sleep in on Saturday morning, it doesn't happen. Which is fine, I guess, because I have a long list of shit I wanna get done at the house today.
Chelsea and Riley are snuggled up on the couch when I show up just after nine. Cereal bowls clutter the coffee table, and cartoons play on the TV.
Sometimes I miss Saturday mornings with them. Riley was always up early, like me, and we'd let Chelsea sleep in and make homemade cinnamon rolls. Riley and I still make breakfast together on the weekends she's with me, but it's not the same as it was when it was the three of us.
It's good, just different.
The weekends I spend alone are sometimes too quiet, though. This is why more often than not I find myself coming here to do odd projects or work on the yard.
"How's she doing?" I ask, sitting on the end of the couch. Chelsea texted me yesterday afternoon that Riley's fever finally went away, but I can tell just from looking at Ri she's still not one-hundred percent better.
"Just a runny nose and a cruddy cough," Chelsea says. "By the time she's feeling better is when I'll get sick."
"Same, probably." I gently tug on the end of Riley's ponytail. "I'm gonna be in the garage if you need me, okay?" She doesn't respond, eyes transfixed on the screen. "Peaaanut." I cover her eyes with my hand, and she giggles and squirms away.
"Daddy, don't."
"Okay, okay."
"Are you gonna mow?" Chelsea asks.
"Wanted to."
"In this heatwave?"
I shrug. It's supposed to be close to a hundred for the next few days, but that doesn't mean shit still can't get done.
"I'll survive," I tell her, laughing when she throws a skeptical look my way.
Standing from the couch, I head into the garage, sliding open the metal door. I organize a little bit then pull out the mower once ten o'clock hits. It's late enough for the neighbors not to hate me, but still early enough so it's not the heat of the day. I go up and down the yard, sweat beading at the nape of my neck and under my pits. When I'm done with the front, I turn off the mower and push it around the back to find Chelsea picking up Riley's toys from the yard to clear the space for me.
"Oh, thanks," I tell her, stopping a few feet away.
"No problem." Her blonde hair is pulled back out of her face, and she's in a pale pink dress I haven't seen her wear in forever. I briefly wonder if she has plans later, then let the thought disappear.
It's not my business, and I doubt she's going out when it's her weekend with Riley, and she's still sick.
"How much longer are you gonna be here?" she asks.
"I dunno. Like an hour. Why what's up?" I ask, lifting the hem of my T-shirt to wipe sweat from my face. "Just gotta finish mowing back here, and then I was gonna wash my truck too, if that's okay."
"Of course it's okay. You know I appreciate having you around," she says quietly. I rub the back of my neck, not sure what to say to that. "Are you okay staying here until I get back from the store? Riley's napping, and I don't really wanna take her with me. I'd leave her with Mom, but she's staying away until Riley's better, so she doesn't get sick."
"Yeah, that's fine."
"Thank you."
I nod. "Gonna get back to it," I say, pointing toward the mower. I lean over to pull the starter cord. I yank it hard and fast a few times, the mower refusing to start up right away. "Piece of fucking shit…" I mutter. Yanking it again, I wince a little, my lower back pinching in pain. I straighten and bring a hand to the spot that's always killing me.
"Back still acting up?" Chelsea asks, concerned.
I shake my head in denial. "It's better."
"You should take it easy when you can."
"Mowing is easy," I say with a shrug.
She rolls her eyes. "I can grab you some IcyHot from the store."
"That'd be great, thanks."
She disappears and I pull the cord until the mower revs to life.
When I'm done, I head inside to check on Riley who's still sleeping on the couch with at least ten stuffed animals surrounding her. The TV's still on, so I turn it off, feel her forehead, chug a glass of water, and head back out to wash my truck.
I'm halfway done when Chelsea pulls into the driveway next to me.
"You're gonna give the neighbors a heart attack," she says when she gets out of her car.
"What? Why?"
She moves around the trunk to open it. "You're shirtless and wet in our driveway, Edward."
I was sweaty and dirty after mowing, so I hosed myself down. Didn't make sense to keep my shirt on after that.
I shrug and toss the sponge in the bucket to help her bring in the groceries. I carry as many bags as I can so we can bring them all in with one trip.
She starts putting stuff away, and I dig in the bags to find the IcyHot.
"They didn't have the patches, just the cream."
"That's fine."
She steps closer, watching me. "You need help?"
"I got it."
I take the tube out of the box and squirt some cream onto my fingers to rub into my lower back. The cooling sensation feels good, the relief immediate. I groan in appreciation.
"Could you actually…" I reach behind my neck, trying to get a spot below my shoulder that's kinda acting up.
"Yeah." She takes the tube from me, and I turn around. "Under your right shoulder?"
"Yeah."
She rubs it in gently, adding a little pressure. "Oof. There's a knot here."
"Where isn't there a knot in my back?" I joke, the contact feeling good.
She kneads the spot a little more, and when she uses both of her hands to massage my shoulders, I pull away.
"I'm good, thanks."
She turns away and goes to wash her hands.
"So, you're not gonna tell me who you were out with the other night?" she asks, her back to me, the water running.
"Just a friend." I leave out the part that we're having amazing sex and I'm enjoying seeing where this is going. "To be honest, Chels, I don't have to tell you anything. I don't know why you'd want me to, either."
She shuts off the water and looks at me. "You don't think I deserve to know who you bring around my daughter?"
"I'm not bringing anyone around Riley," I counter.
"Oh, so you're just fucking random people," she accuses, tone sharp.
"Lower your voice," I whisper harshly, eyes darting toward the living room. "I'm not talking to you about this."
"Fine."
"Fine," I echo.
Frustrated, I head back outside and finish cleaning my truck. When it's free of mud and dust and finally white again, I put everything back into the garage and throw on my dirty, damp T-shirt. I find Riley sitting at the table coloring and kiss the top of her head, ignoring the daggers Chelsea tosses my way.
"I'll be back in the morning to install the garbage disposal," I tell her.
The sharpness in her eyes dulls. "Tell Daddy bye," she coaxes Riley.
"Byeeeee, Daddy."
Another kiss to her little head and then I'm gone.
=.=.=
I'm back at my apartment and sitting on the couch, drinking a beer after my shower when Bella texts.
Bella: People who flake out on their appointments fucking suck.
Edward: Shit. I'm sorry.
Bella: My next client isn't for another two hours, and there isn't even a cute construction worker to go harass across the street.
Edward: You'd harass me, huh?
Bella: Oh, yeah.
Edward: Maybe you can harass me tonight?
Bella: Ugh, I would love to. I have plans with some friends. We're going to a show at The Tractor Tavern.
Edward: Ah. Another time then.
Bella: Come with us.
Edward: What time?
Bella: Show is at 10, meeting up at 930.
Edward: You go have fun. We can hang out soon.
Bella: I want to see youuuu.
I really want to see her, too. Which is why half an hour later I'm walking into the salon.
"Welcome to Fringe," the blonde behind the counter says. "Can I have your name, please?"
"I uh… don't have an appointment."
She frowns a little. "Sorry! We don't do walk-ins, but—"
"Yeah, I was wondering if Bella was available? I know she had a no-show, so…"
"Oh." She eyes me suspiciously.
"I'm Edward, a friend of hers."
"Ah. Edward." Her skepticism about me being some random man coming around and asking for Bella seems to disappear, which makes me think Bella's been talking about me. I can't lie that it feels good. "Let me go grab her. She's in the back."
"Thank you."
I stand awkwardly at the front, looking at the expensive products on the wall. A minute or so later, the blonde returns with Bella trailing behind her.
"Hey, you," she says, smiling. "I heard you're in need of a haircut?"
"I am. I mean, I also just wanted to see you, but… yeah. You still have time?"
"Definitely. Let's go to my chair." She turns to look over her shoulder. "Thanks, Rose."
I follow her through the salon until I'm sitting in her chair in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror. My eyes dart toward the service list on the wall next to her station. Fifty bucks for a men's haircut. I don't think I've ever paid more than fifteen dollars at the barbershop I usually go to.
"So, what are you thinking?" Bella asks, standing behind me, her fingers running through my hair. It feels nice.
"Uh…" Our eyes meet in the mirror. "Whatever you think would look good."
She raises a brow. "You're giving me free rein?"
"Is that a bad idea?" I laugh. "Don't shave it or anything, but, sure."
"Hmm." She inspects my hair then moves to stand beside me, still thinking as she ruffles it a bit. I stare at her ass in the mirror. She's wearing a cropped T-shirt and jeans that are high on her waist and tight on her ass. "—style it ever?"
I completely missed what she's saying. "Sorry, what?"
She moves to stand behind me again. "I asked if you ever style your hair. I wanna know about your day-to-day routine. I assume you're pretty low maintenance."
"No styling, and I wash it every day."
Her eyes light up. "Every night, right? Since you don't shower in the mornings."
My gaze grows heavy. "Right."
"But sometimes you shower in the mornings." She's fucking teasing me now.
"With you, I do."
She sighs softly, a satisfied smile on her face. "Let's go get you shampooed."
"I already washed my hair today."
She laughs. "So? Gonna give you the whole experience."
Grabbing a black apron off the hook next to the mirror, she pulls it over her head and ties it behind her waist. I follow her over to the washing station and sit in the chair, tilting my head back into the sink. The water is warm, and her fingers feel good as she massages the shampoo into my hair. I relax under her touch, closing my eyes.
"Feels good," I mumble, and she breathes out a soft laugh.
"Yeah?" she nearly whispers.
"Mmhmm."
Her fingers gently scratch my scalp, but all too soon, it's over, and she's rinsing my hair. I sit up a little, and she towel dries me before I'm back in the chair and wearing a smock.
"So, I was thinking of shaping up the sides a little. Cleaning it up, mostly. Maybe take a little off the top, but keep it long. What do you think?"
I shrug. "Sounds good to me."
She smiles. "I love that you trust me."
"Can't fuck it up too bad, right? It's just hair."
"The only people who say that have likely never had a bad hair day. It's not ever just hair," she says simply. "It's everything."
She grabs her scissors and gets to work. I watch her as she moves around me, snipping and shaping.
"I didn't realize you have a few grays on your sideburns," she comments. "Would you ever wanna cover them up?"
"Nah. Leave 'em."
"Good."
"Good?"
"Yeah. It's kinda sexy," she says, voice low. "But I'd also be down to put some blonde highlights in for you if you wanted. Frosted tips?"
I laugh once. "Bella."
She grins. "Definitely joking. I like your hair the way it is. Sexy and manly and low maintenance. Kinda like you." I shake my head, an embarrassed smile on my face. "What?" she asks. "It's true."
"You always just say whatever you want?"
"Yes. Especially when I'm attracted to someone."
I stare at her in the mirror while she finishes up. She grabs some product and rubs it between her palms before running it through my hair. I don't know what it is, but it smells good and makes my hair stick up in some places and lie flat in others.
"What do you think?" she asks, wiping her hands on her apron before brushing off the back of my neck. "Be honest."
"I like it. Best haircut I've ever had."
She chuckles and removes the smock from me. "You don't have to say that."
"It's true. I've never had anyone shampoo my hair before or take their time with it as you did."
"You're sweet." She gives me an appreciative smile and leans against her cabinet. "The place you usually go doesn't wash your hair?"
"Nah, they just spritz it with a water bottle."
She clicks her tongue. "Good thing you have me now, for all future haircuts."
I like what she's insinuating, that we'll be doing this for a while.
"I'd like that," I murmur, holding her gaze. "So, do I pay at the front desk?"
She waves me off. "This one is on me."
"Bella, no."
"It's fine, really. I enjoyed having you here," she admits. I shake my head. There's no way I'm not paying. "Speaking of enjoying you… come out tonight? Please?"
"To the show with you and your friends?"
"Yes! It's gonna be fun."
I think about it. "Who's playing?" I ask, even though I doubt I'd know the band.
"Dunno. Some country cover band."
"I don't have a ticket."
She laughs, her eyes squinting a little. "You don't have to have a ticket yet. You can pay at the door, old man."
"Old man." I breathe out a laugh. "Exactly. I'll be in bed at ten."
"Well…" She moves to stand closer, her thighs brushing my knees. "Come out with me, and then we can go to bed together."
Maybe I can nap tomorrow afternoon since I don't have work or Riley.
"Okay," I tell her.
She lights up. "Yes?"
"How am I supposed to say no to that?"
"You weren't. That was my plan all along," she says, looking a little too pleased. "You wanna meet at my place then we can Uber together?"
"Why do we need to Uber? I can just drive us."
"So, we don't have to worry about driving if we drink too much," she clarifies.
"Ah." I wanna laugh. She thinks I'd be able to hang like I did the first night we met. "I'll probably only have a couple of beers, so I'll be good."
"Okay. Then pick me up at 9:15? My roommate will ride with us, too, if that's okay."
"Sounds good. Thanks again for the haircut."
She smirks. "Thanks again for yesterday morning."
I laugh shyly, but her words and the memory go straight to my dick. I stand from the chair, unsure if I'm supposed to kiss her or shake her hand or do nothing. Before I can second-guess the fuck out of myself too long, she presses a chaste kiss to my cheek and says she'll see me later.
On my way out, I leave sixty bucks for her at the front desk.
And as I'm getting into my truck, she texts me "thank you" with the old man emoji and a red heart.