This wasn’t in the cards for her. Halfway to the back, Jonathan called out for her. “You’ve got another one, Lily Pad. A blow out.”

Later she would marvel at Jonathan’s straight face. She moved to the front and came face-to-face with Aidan.

“Oh, for the love of—” She shook her head. “You don’t need a damn blow out—”

“The client is always right,” Jonathan said.

She turned to glare at him. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours,” he said, which slightly mollified her. “Always. But I think we— I mean you should listen to him. I mean maybe he has a really good reason for being a bag of dicks.” He looked at Aidan hopefully.

Aidan turned and walked to the hair-wash station.

Lily followed. She was tempted to use icy-cold water but she couldn’t bring herself to act any more unprofessionally than she already had.

“So,” Aidan said while she waited for warm water. “Where were we?”

“With you accusing me of sleeping with Lenny and also saying something I didn’t. Because of what happened in San Diego.”

“No,” he said. “This had nothing to do with Lenny. Or San Diego—at all. San Diego was the last thing on my mind, actually. It was about my family and how hard I’ve had to fight to keep them from falling apart. And sometimes it makes me go stupid. Seriously, I’m a complete dumbass, okay? I shouldn’t have come in here hot like I did. I’m sorry, Lily.”

She felt herself soften a little bit in spite of herself. But only because she got it about his family. “I don’t know much about being a part of a family unit anymore,” she said, “but I can still understand that part.” With the water warm now, she went to work washing his hair. He sighed and closed his eyes, like he couldn’t help himself.

Which made two of them because she couldn’t help but run her fingers through his hair for far longer than required.

Which changed nothing. She’d long ago learned there were things she could control and things she couldn’t, and whatever Aidan thought of her, that fell into the latter. She had to let go of the things she couldn’t control. It hurt too much otherwise. When she finished washing his hair, she moved him to her workstation and met his gaze in the mirror.

He opened his mouth to speak and she turned on the blow-dryer. She really did get that he hadn’t meant to hurt her. She even got that he felt bad about it.

But though she could forgive, she couldn’t quite forget. Not this.

“I’ll book you for another hour to keep you talking to me,” he said, as soon as she was done blow-drying his hair. “Hell, I’ll go along with whatever torture you’re dealing out, even a”—he shuddered—“bro-zilian.”