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He steps back and closes the door on Sadie’s side. “Because,” he hisses, “the Jeeps are well known as our vehicles and the SUVs we use for runs. You might hate me, but I take being a dad and the girls’ safety seriously.”
I’m taken aback by the fact he thinks I hate him. Hate is a strong word, and much too intense for what I feel for Darragh.
“You think a lot of yourself. I don’t hate you—I don’t know you well enough to form that kind of opinion. Hate is a really strong word. I hate the men who took advantage of Dolly her entire life. I hate her mom for not keeping her safe. I hate lots of things, but you’re not one of them.”
His eyes connect with mine and for the first time, he isn’t looking at me like gutter trash. He looks at me like I’m a person, just like him.
“We have to make a stop before the hospital,” he says, and the look is gone.
The girls have forced Darragh to play Taylor Swift. He tried to overrule Sadie, but she put up such a good argument, he couldn’t fight back. So for the last twenty minutes, the girls and I have been singing at the top of our lungs and laughing. Darragh hasn’t sung, but like Sadie suggested, it is probably because he doesn’t know the lyrics. He does, however, tap away on the steering wheel.
Darragh pulls the car into suburbia; this place is nice, upper middle class. As much as I want to question him, I don’t. I would chew him a new asshole if he were here on business with his girls in the car, but my gut is telling me he wouldn’t involve them in the life. Not after taking so much care when picking a car to drive them in and transforming the mansion to make them feel more comfortable.
He finally pulls into a driveway and shuts off the car. The girls unclip their buckles just as a woman steps out of the front door and smiles—who would have thought the sight of this asshole could even make a woman smile? He must notice the look of surprise on my face.
“This is my cousin’s house. She’s the only family I talk to.”
I nod. Is it possible Darragh has pulled the stick out of his ass? The girls scramble to get out of the van, clearly having met this woman before if their shrieks are anything to go by.
The girls give the woman a hug and run inside. Darragh also wraps her in a hug, and she punches him in the stomach.
“So who do we have here?” she asks, looking me over.
“This is the whore who belongs to the others. She had a breakdown and hacked at her hair, and I figured I better make her look decent before being seen in public with her.”
“Good to know you’re still an asshole. Jude is inside with the kids—go play nice.”
Darragh steps around her and walks inside, leaving me standing out here awkwardly.
“Come on, let’s go fix your hair. I’m Iris, by the way. Please don’t judge me based on that asshole. We are nothing alike.”
I chuckle. “I’m Harper, and I really am a whore. Or was, since Ronan now owns where I worked.”
That makes her laugh. “That sounds like Ronan—throwing his money around to get his own way.”
Iris leads me into her home, and while it’s new and everything looks pristine, it has a homely feel with framed photographs on the walls as we walk down a hall. She opens a door, and we step into a home salon.
“I stopped working when I met Jude. He is in real estate and getting pregnant after knowing him for a month was a shock. Ten years, and three children later, I started up a home salon for all the school moms.”
Removing the cap, I put it down onto the counter.
Iris pulls out the chair in front of a large mirror, and as I look at myself—for the first time in my life—I hate what I see.
Iris stands behind me. “I was thinking we go with a pixie cut. You have the perfect bone structure to pull it off. Maybe we go a little darker underneath and keep the blonde on top.”
“Whatever you think is best, I didn’t exactly think this through, I just . . .”
Tears well in my eyes because in the moment I hadn’t thought past removing the source of the problem.
“I get it. I once shaved my head. I had a shit home life just like Darragh, and I shaved mine for the same reason he grew his out. Let’s do this.”
Iris gets to work on cutting my hair and fixing the mess I created, and after almost two hours, she declares me done and spins me back around to face the mirror. Leaning forward as if it will help me get a better look, I tilt my head at different angles.
“Do you like it?”
A smile which feels so good extends across my face. “I love it. Wow, I never imagined I could pull off short hair. It’s sexy but badass.”
I really love it.
