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Just as my eyes are taking him in his are doing the same of me. However, whereas mine are taking in his beauty, his are accessing the hair that still hangs in my face.
    “I thought I told you to put your hair up. I can’t have you around food with it hanging in your face. The health inspector would have my ass if he saw you in here with your hair down like that. If you can’t already follow directions then you might as well leave now and save us both the trouble later.”
    Well, so much for trying to get away with leaving my hair down . I knew it was a long shot, but I had to give it a try. I just hope the people here fall into the category of ignoring instead of being nosy and asking questions.
    “No, please, I just forgot to pull it back,” I say as I reach into my pocket for a hair tie. Taking a deep breath I turn my head away from him, gather the mass of brown hair and pull it up into a low ponytail. Even with it up it still reaches past my bra strap. Other than the plain russet color I love my hair. It’s full, thick, and goes down to the middle of my back.
    When I turn back around to face Jaxon, I hear a sharp intake of breath from Mia, who is still standing beside me, the side my scar is on. It doesn’t take Jaxon long to notice the scar either. I see him clench his jaw and his hands that are resting on the bar balled into fists.
    “What happened to your face?” He asks.
    It actually surprises me that he asks me. I pegged him as the type that would ignore something like this. I figured he wouldn’t want to get involved with issues that weren’t his concern.
    I glance down at his question. This is why I hate showing my scar. I am never fully prepared when someone asks me about it. What am I supposed to say? Oh, you know, the usual. My husband was in one of his moods and decided to push me down the stairs. Nothing new there. Yeah, definitely not saying that. I normally try to stick closest to the truth as I can. It’s easier to keep up with the lies if it’s the altered truth.
    “It’s nothing. I fell down the stairs a few months ago.” I tell him.
    “Look at me.” He growls.
    Startled at his tone, I quickly look up at him.
    “What happened to your face, Bailey?” He asks again.
    The intensity and anger that flashes in his eyes surprises me. It also scares me a little. He has no right to be angry. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know what happened to me. I can understand some men getting upset about women being abused, but he has no clue as to what could have caused my scar. Why give off such an intense reaction to my answer? And why demand more of an answer than what I have given him? Why would he care? The answers don’t matter. I’m not giving him more than I already had. It’s none of his business.
    “I told you, I fell down the stairs. When I hit the bottom, my face smashed into a table.” I tell him defiantly. What is it about him that causes me to step out of my safe and protective shell and have the ability to take a stand for myself? Normally I’m shy and withdrawn around people. Not so much with Jaxon.
    Eyes still blazing, he says, “You’re lying.” And then turns from me to face Mia. “Paperwork and then show her the basics for the next few hours.” He turns and strides towards a darkened hallway and disappears.
    I can see frown lines popping up on Mia’s face as she watches Jaxon walk off. When she turns back around to face me, her expression has cleared and I wonder if I imagined the sad lines. Her eyes briefly flutter over to my scar before she gives her head a small shake and turns away.
    “He’s your brother right?” I ask her.
    “Yes.” Is her one-word reply. Obviously Mia isn’t much of a talker.
    She moves down to the other end of the bar and I follow her. She reaches down and grabs some papers and a pen off the counter beside the register. Turning back in my direction, she offers me the papers and pen. “Here are the papers you need to fill out. It’s just a