He tilted his head up and met her gaze. “Yes you know what I mean?”

“Yes, people spill their guts to me. So if you’re scared, you know where the door is. And don’t worry, I get it,” she said soothingly. “Lots of boys are scared of getting their hair cut. Usually they’re five and under though …”

That sexy muscle in his jaw bunched, which she did her best to ignore. She also ignored the fact that he had at least a day’s growth of stubble there, maybe two.

And that his jeans fit him perfectly, emphasizing his long legs and … the rest of him.

And she quickly realized she had a problem, a big one. His hair was soft and silky and her fingers couldn’t get enough of it. To distract herself she poured the girliestsmelling shampoo she could find into the palm of her hand and began to suds him up.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

“Close ’em,” she said.

He held her gaze for a long beat before closing his eyes—defiant and alpha to the end. But at least now she couldn’t get lost in those chocolate-brown depths. Nope. Instead she found herself staring at his mouth, remembering how it had felt on hers. His jaw, rough with that scruff, was square and strong, and as she automatically gave him a scalp massage the way she did everyone, that jaw relaxed a bit and he let out a long breath.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured.

Right back atcha, she could’ve said. When she was done, she stood back and gestured for him to move ahead of her back to her salon chair.

He walked to it as if walking to his own execution.

She laughed. “Stop it. I’ll admit I wouldn’t mind having you at my mercy spilling your guts, but we both know that’s not going to happen.” She stopped smiling. “You’re too careful for that.”

He looked at her reflection in the mirror for a long moment, but didn’t respond as he folded his long body into the chair.

“So,” she said, hands on his shoulders. “Buzz cut? Or maybe a new color? Both?”

He actually paled.

“Aw, don’t worry. I hardly ever nick an ear or screw up a color.”

He stared at her. “This is the worst repaid favor in the history of forever.”

She laughed again.

“A trim,” he allowed, trying to not be moved by her laughter. “That’s it. You hear me?”

Oh, she heard him. And she supposed it was wrong that she was enjoying this so much, but she didn’t care. She shook out her cape and wrapped it around him.

“Lily.”

“Sure,” she said. “A trim. Whatever you want.”