Page 42 of Hollywood

It was weird to hear someone his age refer to a phone number as digits. “You better do it while the haircut is fresh.”

He grinned. “Good idea.”

I removed the cape and brushed the back of his neck and shoulders, dislodging loose hairs. “Thanks for talking about your recovery. It’s reassuring to know Carrie is in a good place.”

“Oh, the staff is great. They’re so positive and upbeat she’ll want to kick their butts, but they’re all very friendly.”

“Carrie’s feisty on a good day. I’m glad I’m not the one pep-talking her through therapy.”

Jared snorted. “Yeah, it’s not always pretty, but they can take it.”

He grabbed his cane, sitting to the left of the chair, and slowly levered himself upright.

Clint was half asleep in his chair. “The old guy is tired, huh?”

“I missed a couple of days of work. Wasn’t easy on him.”

“Take care of him.”

“I’ll do my best,” I promised.

I swept the floor and cleaned my station. Clint woke up when Jared left and drank some more terrible coffee while he told me about his weekly poker game. “Bennie tried to show up with Wheat Thins for the game snack!”

“I hope you all threw him out.”

I’d learned that the snacks were the most important partof the weekly poker game to the guys. They sometimes even bet food or services instead of money. Clint had bartered a year of haircuts to Ford a year ago—and lost. But Clint lit up every time Ford came in, so I didn’t think it was much of a punishment, and Ford usually tipped enough to cover the cost of a cut, anyway.

“We made him leave,” Clint said with a grin. “We said, don’t come back without a decent snack. He went to the store and came back with spicy nacho cheese dip and we all paid with heartburn for the next three days.”

“Worth it,” I said.

“Oh, yeah.” He rubbed his hands together. “If you can’t eat crappy food, what’s the point of living? Not that you’d know much about that.”

“I’m not a health freak,” I said. “I just run a lot. Helps me clear my head.”

I hadn’t been on a good run since Ruby moved in. No wonder I’d been such a mess of stress and turmoil.

The doorbells chimed and Tex stepped in, Ruby perched on his waist.

“Down!” she exclaimed, pointing to the floor.

Tex set her on her feet, and she ran to the nearest chair.

“Well, aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” Clint exclaimed.

She looked at him with a shy smile. He scooped her up and sat down in his chair, settling her on his lap. “Hi, Ruby. I’m Clint, but you can call me Grandpa.”

Tex and I exchanged a look.

“How did the moving go?” I asked quietly as Clint tugged one of Ruby’s pigtails and drew her into a game of patty-cake.

“I’ve got to move some more boxes tomorrow, but we got the beds set up.”

“Oh, crap. You don’t have a bed.”

We discussed giving him a room, and I’d insisted he couldn’t sleep on the couch, but I’d never considered the fact he didn’t have a bed with him.

“Aiden gave me his. Says he wasn’t using it much.” He smirked. “I guess they prefer to share these days.”