She exhaled—had she been holding her breath? God, why was she so nervous? Becca watched Hank out of the corner of her eye as they went outside and let the puppy explore the grassy medians. Was he distracted? He kept rubbing his beard, a faraway expression on his face. She wondered what he was thinking.

“I need a name for her,” she told Hank. “Did Libby have any ideas?”

His smile was rueful. “She called her Alaska.”

Oh. Okay, that was a weird coincidence—she hoped—but it was kind of a cute name. “Alaska it is.” She scooped up the puppy when she lay down in the grass, and gestured to the salon. “Should we go back inside?”

Did he look pale? Oh god, was this bad news? But Hank nodded. “Sure.”

Her heart pounded as he put a hand to her back and they returned to the salon. The moment the door shut behind them, Hank moved aside and headed for one of her salon chairs. He sat down and gave Becca a long, long look.

Okay, now she was really confused. She folded a few towels into a makeshift bed behind the counter and set Alaska down, then moved to Hank’s side. “What is it?”

One big hand gestured at his brushy beard. “It’s this. Cut it all off.”

Becca frowned. “What do you mean?”

“This is for you. I’m gonna cut it off.” He smiled, but it looked more nervous than excited. “It’s part of my big gesture to show you how much you mean to me.”

Was that what this was? Becca melted, reaching up and touching his face. She caressed his jaw—and his beard. “Oh, Hank, you don’t have to cut your beard off to impress me. I would never ask that. I like your beard. I like you. You don’t have to change a thing.”

He gazed up at her thoughtfully, his expression turning heated. His arm went around her waist and he caressed her butt through the skirt of her dress. “I don’t like how it tears you up. Your pretty skin gets all red and raw when I’m done kissing you. Both your face and your thighs.” He stroked his knuckles along her jawline. “Don’t like to think I’m hurting you.”

“I like your beard,” Becca stated again, blushing. She especially liked it below the waist. “And let me show you a little something.” She moved to her counter, picking through the bottles of product before she came upon the one she needed. Becca returned to him and showed him the bottle of beard oil. “This will help a little.”

“I . . . see.” He sounded so reluctant that she wanted to laugh.