“Sorry,” she said. “If you want to book an appointment with me, go ahead. I know you’ve been too busy to manscape yourself. I could give you that bro-zilian we talked about, I have time right after Tessa.”

Tessa let out a choking sound of horror.

Jonathan let his gaze slide down Aidan’s body to his crotch area and went brows up.

Aidan didn’t react, just looked Lily right in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Firmly.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she said. “It’s not your fault you’re so hairy.”

Tessa choked again.

And this time Lily detected the slightest bunching of Aidan’s jaw muscle.

“Lily,” he said again, with rather remarkable calm given that the entire salon had gone quiet to listen in on this exchange about his manscaping prowess—or lack thereof. “I really need to finish talking to you. In private.”

“Busy washing and then coloring Tessa,” she said.

“You can talk over me,” Tessa said quickly. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Lily said. “You hear that, Aidan? She doesn’t mind us talking about how you think I’m sleeping around on you while I do her hair.”

Jonathan gasped. “What the hell?”

“I don’t think that,” Aidan said to him, to everyone, and then he looked at Lily. “I don’t.”

At this point, you could’ve heard a pin drop in the salon.

Lily just kept washing Tessa.

Aidan’s jaw was bunching good now as he reached in and turned off her water. He snagged a clean towel, pulled Tessa up to sit, and wrapped her hair in the towel himself—doing a damn fine job of it while he was at it, actually.

Then he led Tessa to Lily’s hair station, handed her a magazine from the rack—a Cosmo that promised to teach its readers how to blow their guy’s mind in ten moves or less. “Lily’ll be right with you,” he said.

“Take your time,” Tessa murmured, watching his ass in the mirror as he strode around the chair toward Lily, eyes dark with determination.

Before Lily could make her escape or so much as squeak, he’d hauled her into the back room again, slammed the door, locked it, and then glared at her. “Bro-zilian?”

She crossed her arms and said nothing.

“Hairy?” he asked.

She looked pointedly at the clock on the wall.

He dropped his head, rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “This isn’t going well, is it?”

“Well, how did you think it would go?” she broke her silence to ask, beyond pissed. No, make that beyond hurt. She opened the door. “I have to finish Tessa.”

Which she did in an hour and a half, and then looked up her next client.

It was Aidan.

“He waited,” Jonathan whispered in her ear. “He must want to talk to you bad.”