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“I’m glad I keep you amused.” Stop touching me. I’m fuckin’ hard enough as it is.
“That reminds me, Manny said I have an appointment tomorrow at the salon.”
I already heard. Does she think I don’t have ears?
The girls, and Manny, want to take her out and do some shopping after too.
Not for the first time I wonder what the fuck I’m doing here and why I don’t just tell Cash to go shove it.
I take a deep breath. Don’t let her get under your skin.
“Rivetin’. Could do with a wash and blow dry.”
To my surprise, she reaches up to my hair and pulls on a strand. “Could probably do with a treatment. The ends feel a little dry.”
She’s fuckin’ touching my hair now?
I suppress a groan. I love it when chicks touch my hair. I dig it when I’m ramming into them or eating them out and they tug.
“Thanks for the advice, but I’m good.”
She keeps assessing me. “Do you use beard oil?”
I turn and stare down at her. “What the fuck is beard oil?”
“That’s a no then. I’ll get you some. I’ve heard that it works wonders.”
I keep staring at her as she looks straight toward the doors. “Works wonders for what, exactly?”
“Softness.”
I scoff. “Softness? Not sure if you’re aware, but bikers don’t really give a shit about beards bein’ soft.”
“Well, chicks might not like it.”
“Never had any complaints.”
“Yet.”
My eyes almost bug out of their sockets. “You really are somethin’,” I mutter.
She maintains her composure. “I just meant…like…it can get scratchy.”
I laugh. “Like you’d know. You’ve never dated a man with a beard.”
She turns to look at me. “Been checking up on me?”
I hold her gaze. “That’s my job. You seem to have a type, if we’re ‘chattin’.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I shrug, looking to the front. “Pretty boys.”
She snorts. “That’s completely ridiculous.”
“Okay.”
She jabs a finger at me. “I was just trying to be helpful because I can’t imagine that any woman wants to feel a rough beard on their skin. Sorry for trying to help.”
