006

SHAYLE

Oh my god. He actually recognized me.

The shock hit me as I blinked at him, heat crawling up my neck, and for a moment my tongue glued itself to the roof of my mouth.

“Uh… I’m your neighbor,” I stammered out, clearing my throat way too late. “Next door.”

The second the words tumbled out, regret stabbed me in the chest. What the fuck, Shayle? That was the best you could manage? Not a smile, not a smooth “yeah, it’s me,” but a nervous stutter like some middle schooler talking to her crush for the first time.

He tilted his head, eyes roaming over me, calm and thoughtful like he was studying every detail. My stomach twisted. Damn it. Now he probably thought I was weird.

Good job, Shayle. You’ve officially ruined your only chance of ever getting laid before you die. Carlos’s voice sneered in my head. You’ll die a lonely ass virgin.

Biting down hard on my lip, I muttered a quick, “Sorry,” and spun on my heel to leave before I humiliated myself any more.

But then his hand caught my wrist.

The contact jolted through me, sending waves of adrenaline. My breath snagged in my throat, my skin instantly heating where his fingers wrapped around me.

Except for Carlos, I wasn’t sure any man had ever touched me like this. Not this close and tight.

I froze, heart racing.

The moment he saw my face, the redness blooming across my cheeks, he released me immediately, almost like he’d burned himself.

His brows pulled together and his voice dropped softer.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. But why are you leaving? We haven’t even introduced ourselves properly.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. No words came.

When silence dragged, he stretched out his hand toward me. “I’m Kieran.”

I stared at his hand for a full second. Big, strong and perfectly sculpted. Then back up at him, at the green eyes holding mine with something warm and inviting.

He was like a golden retriever, cute and warm but dangerous at the same time.

My chest squeezed.

I placed my smaller hand into his. “Hi… I’m Shayle Vale.”

His lips tugged into an easy smile that instantly knocked down every wall inside me. My hand nearly disappeared in his, swallowed by the hugeness of it.

For a heartbeat, it didn’t feel like a handshake. It felt like something heavier.

“Nice to finally meet you, Shayle. I should’ve come over sooner, but between unpacking and setting up the shop, I’ve barely had time to breathe.”

I nodded so quickly I probably looked like a dog begging to go for a walk. God, what was wrong with me?

He grinned faintly and motioned to a chair. “Sit. You’re here for a tattoo, right?”

I sank into the chair before my brain could form an excuse, my eyes glued to him as he moved around the shop.

Holy shit.

The way his shirt clung to his back when he stretched for something on a high shelf. The way his tattoos flexed when he grabbed supplies. His broad shoulders, his steady hands, his calm confidence. He looked like he belonged in a magazine spread labeled “dangerous but irresistible.”

And me? I was staring like a creep.

I jerked my gaze toward the floor, trying to remind myself I had to act normal if I wanted him to even look at me twice. I wasn’t about to be the neighbor who was drooling like a starved idiot.

Still, when he turned back to me, I couldn’t help stealing another glance.

His steps brought him closer, the sound of his boots heavy but gentle. My pulse beat faster with every one.

Smile, Shayle. Don’t fuck this up. Smile.

I forced my lips into what I hoped looked natural, only for my eyes to betray me. Because behind him, a mirror caught my reflection.

And just like that, the smile crumbled.

Brown hair tied in a sad ponytail. A plain gray blouse that clung in all the wrong places. No makeup. No effort. Just me.

Carlos’s words echoed so loud and harsh that I nearly flinched.

Boring and plain. The kind of woman men settled for when nothing better came along.

My chest caved. The confidence I’d scraped together disappeared . My reflection was proof. Proof that he’d never want someone like me, no matter how hard I tried.

By the time Kieran stopped in front of me, I was barely holding it together.

He held out sheets of tattoo designs, his green eyes still soft.

“Here. Some inspiration. Honestly, when I saw you walk in, I was surprised at first. Thought maybe you came into the wrong place.”

His laugh was light, teasing and probably harmless.

But the words sliced me wide open. Wrong place, huh?

Of course. I didn’t look like someone who belonged here. I didn’t look like someone who could make bold choices or stand out.

I looked like someone forgettable and average. The kind of woman people pitied when they remembered her at all.

The frown hit my lips before I could stop it. My eyes burned hot, threatening tears I refused to let him see.

Not here. Not in front of him.

I slammed the papers back onto the table, my hands trembling.

“I’ll come back another day.” My voice cracked slightly.

Without looking at him again, I stood and marched to the door.

“Wait, Shayle—” he called behind me.

But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. If I turned back, he’d see the wetness gathering in my eyes, and humiliation would drown me.

The hot evening air smacked me in the face as soon as I stepped outside. It kept the tears at bay, though my chest still ached.

I walked fast, like maybe I could leave the sting behind me if I moved quickly enough.

But when my eyes landed on the familiar sign of Ma Jackins’s Salon, I stopped cold.

I’d only been inside once, desperate to grow out my hair because of Carlos. I’d tried so hard to be his “ideal type.”

Right now, though, I was disgusted by the look. I didn’t want it anymore. I wanted to be different, to feel different.

Hell, I just didn’t want to look like me anymore.

I pushed the door of the salon open. The smell of hairspray and perfume wrapped around me instantly.

Ma Jackins sat in a chair munching on a burger, her eyes snapping up in surprise.

“Well, look who it is. Shayle Vale. Long time. What brings you in, honey?”

Heat rose to my cheeks. “Sorry for interrupting your meal,” I muttered.

“I… I need your help.”

She closed the box with the burger, brushing her hands on a napkin, and stood. “No worries. You here for more hair growth oil?”

She moved toward the shelf automatically, reaching for a bottle, when the words slipped out of me.

“No. Not that.”

She turned, brows raised. “Then what?”

I licked my lips, fingers twisting together, shame and desperation mixing like poison in my veins.

“A makeover,” I whispered, then forced myself to say it louder.

“I need a complete makeover. Something that’ll make me look nothing like… this.”

The silence stretched as she studied me. I stood there trembling, heart pounding while waiting for her to laugh or tell me I didn’t need it.

But I prayed she wouldn’t.

Because I needed it more than anything.