The Look of Love (13 page)

Recalling that moment, Gunnar could feel his birth mother’s cold hand wrapping around his wrist, pulling him forward, and stamping out her smoldering cigarette into his flesh. He covered his arm when his imagination got the better of him and he could feel the burning sensation over again and smell his scorched skin.

“I didn’t know.” Eboni attempted to stroke his face but he leaned back, not wanting compassion or pity right now.

“No one knew. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t even share this with Thane, who was a baby at the time. The three of us got bounced from foster home to foster home. Sometimes together. Sometimes not. It wasn’t until the three of us landed with Miss Elizabeth Wells, as she was known when she took us in, that we started to have some stability.” He recalled the moment he walked into her home. He distinctly remembered the doilies. She had them everywhere. He remembered how much he’d hated them back then. Now, whenever he saw one, it reminded him of her.

“She took you in. That was a good thing, right?” Eboni moved closer to him.

“Absolutely. As a kid, I didn’t see it that way. I had been with people who’d taken me and my brothers in for the check. I lumped my mother into that category. So I made her life a living hell in every way possible. I screwed up at school. I stayed out late. I drank. I smoked pot. If I was offered drugs, I took them. I wanted to be out of this woman’s house and this world.” Gunnar saw the look of horror grace Eboni’s face.

She wanted truth. He would give it all to her.

“When I got older, maybe twelve or thirteen, right before you and I met, I became uncontrollable. I stole from my mother. I treated my brothers like crap. They didn’t get it. They didn’t understand my pain because I didn’t understand it. My mother did all she could to help me. She took me to church. I would steal money from the offering plate and sleep during the sermons. One night, I started to leave the house to hang out with this group of friends who were the dregs of society. Real pieces of crap. They were who I thought I deserved.”

“What happened?”

“My mother tried to stop me. She told me not to leave the house. I told her--” Gunnar paused in this hurtful part of the story. His throat started to feel scratchy. He cleared it and barreled through the rest of the tale. “I told her that she wasn’t my real mother and I cursed at her. I left the house and got up with my buddies. One of them points out a crazy lady in heels walking toward us. I turn. It’s Queen Elizabeth herself.”

Eboni smiled. “She followed you?”

Gunnar nodded. “She said in front of my friends that I was her son and that she loved me. She said that she had no problem showing me off to her friends and that she hoped I had that same feeling and wanted me to introduce her to my friends. When I told her I couldn’t do that, she said that if my friends weren’t good enough for me to introduce to my mother, then they aren’t the people I should associate with.”

Eboni nodded. “Sounds like something she would say.”

“One of my friends got the bright idea that he was going to rob my mother in front of me. In that moment, something clicked. No one, and I do mean no one, had ever stuck their neck out for me. She did that. She actually cared enough to put her life on the line. I knew a few of those guys had weapons on them. Knives, brass knuckles, guns. They could have hurt her. As soon as one tried going after her, I jumped on him and beat him down. If she hadn’t pulled me off of him, I would have seriously hurt him. I straightened up then. I went to church. My grades in school improved. I followed her teachings to the letter. When she told me to respect women, I did it.”

Eboni chuckled. “You were and are the only guy who ever opened my door for me.”

“My mother, the woman who raised me, will always be number one because she made me and my brothers a top priority in her life. I can honestly say I wouldn’t be where I am today without her. She taught the three of us a good work ethic when she made us work in her businesses. That’s when I met you I think.”

She shook her head. “You don’t remember?”

Gunnar racked his brain but couldn’t recall the exact moment.

“You were at Oceanfront with your friends playing basketball. My girlfriends and I were doing double Dutch and some boy took our ropes. You ran after that kid and he screamed for dear life.”

Gunnar laughed. “Yeah, I had a temper back then.”

“You caught up to that boy and got our ropes back. You handed them to me and stared at me.” She glanced at him. “Kind of like the way you’re looking at me now. And you said--”

“I believe these belong to you.” He remembered that moment now. He also recalled the softness of her skin.

“You said you liked watching me jump.” As soon as she said it, her bottom jaw unhinged. “You pervert.”

Gunnar laughed. “At least I was honest.”

“Thanks again for taking on Mrs. Pratt.”

He started to stand. “You didn’t think I could handle her, did you?”

“She is a lot to take.”

“It’s okay. She probably recognized that I could do hair better than you.” He shrugged.

“Excuse me?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You had one good day with one or two clients and you think that that means you’re a better stylist? Get real.”

“I’ve only been here for two days and I’ve done more hair than you. All I’ve seen you do is slap your gums around.” He made a talking mouth motion with his hand.

“Great of you to say that when there are no clients left to show you.”

Gunnar raised his hands in the air. “I’m here.” He took out his hair tie to allow his hair to fall freely about his neck and shoulders. Chuck would have hated to see it. “Work your magic on me.”

Eboni snickered. “Are you serious?”

“Sure.” He walked by her to the main salon. He wrapped a towel around the back of his neck and assumed the position. Of course, he had to scoot down in order to get his head into the bowl. “Work your magic.”

“Okay. Just don’t start crying when I make you look fabulous.”

“I’ll try to reserve my tears.”

* * * *

Eboni couldn’t believe Gunnar’s challenge. She ran the water in the sink, testing the temperature with her fingertips before sluicing the water over his hair. She ran her fingers through it to make sure to fully saturate each strand.

Yes, that excuse sounded good in her head instead of the real reason of wanting to run her fingers through his silky tresses.

She started to choose the standard shampoo that all the stylists used but stopped herself and instead chose one with a flowery scent. As soon as she rubbed it in his hair, Gunnar opened his eyes.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” He screwed up his lips.

“You relax, Mr. Wells. I’ll have you in and out in no time.” Eboni had to bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

After rinsing the shampoo out, she covered his hair with creamy conditioner. Gunnar kept his eyes closed while she slathered the product.

“Sit up, please.”

Gunnar did as instructed while keeping the towel wrapped around his neck. Eboni picked up a wide-tooth comb and started combing his hair to detangle it.

“Sharing time.” Gunnar kept his head still while she combed. “I opened up about something personal. Time for you to do the same.”

Eboni stopped combing for a moment. “Depends on what you want me to share.”

“Your look. Why did you change it so dramatically?”

That question hit her out of left field. She stopped combing and rinsed off the comb as she collected her thoughts to answer. “I thought I looked good until Mrs. Pratt made that comment.”

“I don’t get your need for the fake hair. Your natural hair, from what I remember, was so full and healthy on its own.” He attempted to turn around to look at her, but Eboni stopped him.

“Time to rinse your hair. Lean back into the sink again.” She patted his back and helped guide him down.

She took her time rinsing the conditioner from his hair in hopes that he would forget his question about her hair.

“I think all the conditioner is out now.” Gunnar opened his eyes.

“Who’s doing the hair here?” To tease him, she sprayed water in his face.

He jerked his body and sat up. “You’re going to pay for that one.”

Eboni covered his head with a towel and patted his hair dry. “Just remember. I’m doing your hair.”

She picked up a blow dryer and got his blond hair dry. After a few passes to the back of his head, she noticed something green and blotchy on his scalp.

“What’s that?” Eboni attempted to part his hair to look at it.

“Hey, dry the hair, okay? It’s nothing.”

Gunnar’s serious expression clued her in that it meant something more. Eboni wouldn’t push him. He’d revealed so much already.

As his hair dried, she noticed how soft it became. She used a round brush to give him a slight curl.

“Really?” Gunnar gave her a sideways glance.

“You’re supposed to trust me, right?”

Once done, she put her styling tools down and used her fingers to fluff out his hair.

“Can I see it?” He tried turning his chair, but she held the back of the chair.

“Not yet.” Eboni needed this time to touch him without remembering his vanishing act.

“By the way, I agonized about coming back home.” He lowered his voice. “My decision wasn’t easy.”

“Why?” She stopped styling to concentrate on his words.

“I couldn’t face how I failed the most important people in my life.” He stared at her. “You think it was easy for me to come here?” He shook his head. “It wasn’t. I was afraid of what you would say to me. I think I would have rather you slapped me or kick me than tell me I’m a loser. I know that I am. I can’t take it if I hear you say it.”

Eboni couldn’t break her stare from Gunnar until he tried to stand. She spun his chair around so he could see his reflection. “Okay. Now you can look.” She fluffed his hair. “What do you think?”

Gunnar looked at his image. He turned his head from one side to the other. Then he stared at Eboni. “Looks okay.”

“Okay?” She plucked the back of his head with her finger. “I made your hair look healthier and softer.”

“Softer?” He cringed as he stood up. “Not a good way to describe a fighter.”

“I think you should keep your hair like this. It makes you look--”

The word sexy got caught in her throat.

“Look like what?”

Eboni remained quiet. She mustered enough courage to speak again. “Not like a loser.”

Gunnar stalked toward her. “What do I owe you?”

“Um, just keep working here and that’ll do it.”

“That’s one way.”

Eboni’s back met with the counter. He stood directly in front of her.

“Here’s another way.” Gunnar cupped her cheek.

As though happening in slow motion, he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. The initial contact felt like nothing she remembered from their kisses in the past.

His breath offered her a bit of sustenance as he leaned in more to capture her mouth. As soon as his tongue slipped into her mouth, she wriggled away from him.

“This is a mistake.” She ran to the reception desk to get her coat and purse.

“Wait. Let’s talk about what happened. Let’s go to dinner.” He followed her around.

“No. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She ran from the salon and slipped and slid the entire way to her car.

Her heart pumped faster than her feet could carry her. Eboni hadn’t expected to kiss Gunnar. Worst yet, she’d liked it. Loved it. To feel his warm lips on hers felt familiar. Her body still tingled as she thought about it while speeding home.

“What he must think now.” Eboni shook her head.

She had been so firm on her feelings for him, or rather against him. He had walked away from her to pursue a career and hadn’t looked back. Now her body fought with her mind.

Eboni pounded her fist on the steering wheel as she waited at a traffic light. Frustration overwhelmed her senses as she thought of ways to explain her actions. Maybe she would tell him that she’d kissed him because she thought he had been so sweet with that little girl earlier. Her mind tripped over thoughts of him caring for their daughter.

“Damn, snap out of it, girl.”

A car horn blared behind her to prompt her to move when the light turned green. Instead of going to the center like she usually would after work, she headed home. She arrived at her apartment and nearly sprinted to her unit.

As usual, Craig and Tryna occupied the couch. Aunt Bettie, who sat at the glass-top kitchen table, busied herself putting together a jigsaw puzzle.

“You’re home earlier than I thought you would be.” Her aunt looked at her with her light brown eyes.

“Decided to come straight home instead of going to the center.” Eboni left out the part about Gunnar.

A knock sounded at the door.

She glanced at Craig. “Expecting anyone?”

Craig shook his head. “You’re standing.”

“Such a gentleman.” Eboni strolled to the door and peered through the peephole.

The person standing on the other side kept their head down. She saw the top of a hat but nothing else.

“Who is it?” she asked through the door.

A pause lingered before the person said, “Eboni, open up, please, so we can talk.”

Eboni’s heart stopped and dropped to the floor. Gunnar had followed her home.

“Who is it?” Craig asked from the couch.

Eboni ignored him. She whispered into the door. “Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No. We need to talk right now.”

Eboni heard something rustling behind her. By the time she turned around, she saw Craig in his pajama pants and a different basketball jersey stomping up behind her.

“Move out the way.” Craig grabbed the doorknob.

“Don’t open the door.” Eboni grabbed her cousin’s arm and tried pulling him back.

No such luck. Craig opened the door. She watched him blink as he stared at Gunnar. It took her cousin a hot second before Gunnar’s identity registered.

“I can’t believe you have the nerve to show up to my home.” Craig adopted a fighting stance where he stood with his feet apart, his fists raised and his head bobbing back and forth. He looked ridiculous.