Tristan“Abear has no business in a beauty parlor.” I was unloading another crate of bikini wax. It was only midmorning, way too early to be dealing with humans. Besides, I’d already stacked two other crates. That’s a lot of wax. This woman had arrived in Icy Cap with enough wax to de-fur a sizable population of paranorms. Then again, coming off an Alaskan winter, that estimate was about right.
“Tristan Barlow, buck up. You weren’t born a hundred years ago.” Liv Merrell, the woman who should’ve been my mate, shook her head at me. Her round face and brunette curls were sticky with our warmer-than-usual spring weather. Even sweaty she was sexy. “It’s called a ‘salon,’ and judging from what I’ve seen of the population here, a unisex one is overdue.”
I wasn’t a hundred years old, but her inhe
