Rosie's Thorns 🥀|18+|🥀

57 | Thorns

Empty Rooms ~ Jamie Miller

《¤Dominic¤》

"Just do it." She holds out the handle of the scissors towards me.

"Rosie, I'm not a hair stylist." I pinch the bridge of my nose as I sigh. "I don't even cut my own hair."

"Well, none are open at this time of night. You're here. I have faith in you." She shrugs as she runs her fingers through her royal blue hair.

"Let's revisit this conversation in the morning by making an appointment." I stand up from the sofa and walk past her.

She let out a stubborn sigh and then I herd the soft slap of her bare feet against the floorboards as she pads behind me. She just spent the last hour on her phone at the kitchen table while I was on my laptop going through our files and warehouse inventory. Some of it still seemed salvageable if we wanted to continue. We could always start from the ground up. We could be co-owners.

In the midst of taking inventory, she got the bright idea she needs a hair cut. Not later. Not tomorrow. But now. She had sprung up onto her feet, rummaged through the drawer by the oven and came at me with scissors. She stood tapping her foot impatiently until I gave her my full undivided attention, then insisted I had to cut her hair.

"If you don't, I will."

I grimace as I run both hands over my face. "Go ahead! I won't feel so bad if you fuck it up."

"Dominic fucking Rivera!" She growled as she followed behind me into my bedroom. "Hana would do it!"

"Hana actually knows how to cut hair." I glance back at her with an arched brow. She was seriously pouting, her lips firmly pressed together and her nostrils flared. "Go ahead, give her a call. She should be done with the meeting she had with her father."

Her eye twitched. I stopped and bit my lip as she crossed an arm beneath her breasts, the other pointing the scissors at me. If she wasn't pointing a sharp object at me, I'd have told her how cute she looked just then. But at the moment I valued my life.

"Fine!" She seethed, her voice low and threateningly calm. "I'll do it myself. But if I fuck up, then you have to look at it every day. If I fuck up, I will remind you of my fuck up every day. If I fuck up, I'll-"

"Fucking hell." I groan and snatch the scissors out of her hand. "I'll do it!"

A wide grin, I haven't seen in so long, spread across her face. "Thank you!"

She casually turned around and walked out of my room. I clicked my tongue and shook my head as I glanced down at the small scissors in my hand. They aren't meant for cutting hair. I've used these to cut chicken, steak, and to cut through bone.

Rolling my eyes I walk out of my room to find her standing in the bathroom doorway tapping her foot impatiently.

"First off." I lift the scissors up for her to see. "I'll butcher your hair with these." I toss them towards the kitchen and they skid across the counter top. "Secondly, get your ass in the bathroom before I change my mind."

She obeys without argument and plops herself down on the toilet as I enter. I really didn't want to cut her hair, but a small part of me was thrilled she had that much trust in me. I opened the bottom cabinet beneath the sink and pulled out a small red case.

"What's that?" She watches as I place it on the counter and pop it open.

"My kit." I mumble as I pick up hair cutting scissors out of the mess of attachments for the clippers.