I had requests from people all the time not to touch certain parts of their bodies. They had their reasons, from medical conditions to insecurities. It wasn’t my business to ask. My business was to make the client feel better and to provide a healing experience. I hadn’t looked at his treatment form—actually, I don’t even think I’d asked him to fill one out. Mali was the one who’d checked him in, so maybe she did?

“Will do. Would you like light, medium, or deep pressure?” I asked, grabbing the little bottle of oil off the cabinet shelf. The outside of the bottle was still really hot, but I knew it would be the perfect temperature when it hit his skin.

Again, no answer. Maybe he was hard of hearing. I was used to this, as well, working outside a military installation; all forms of difficulties and disabilities from war were familiar and welcome here.

“Kael?” I said his name, though I didn’t know why.

His head popped up so quickly, I thought I’d frightened him. I jumped a little myself.

“Sorry, I just wanted to know what level of pressure you wanted.”

“Any.” He didn’t sound like he knew what he wanted. Probably a first-timer. He put his head back into the cradle.

“Okay. Tell me if the pressure is too light or too firm and I’ll adjust my touch,” I told him.

I could be a little heavy-handed and most of my clients liked that, but I’d never worked on this guy before, and everyone was different.

Who knew if he’d ever come back? I’d say only four out of ten first-timers actually returned and only one or two would become regulars. We weren’t a big salon, but we had a steady clientele.

“This is peppermint oil.” I dotted the little bottle against my forefinger. “I’m going to rub some into your temples. It helps with—”

He lifted his head up, lightly shaking it. “No,” he said. His voice wasn’t harsh, but it let me know he absolutely did not want me to use peppermint oil. Okay . . .

“Okay.” I screwed the lid back on the bottle and turned the faucet. Damn it. The water. I knelt down and opened the towel warmer. Empty. Of course it was.

“Um, just a second,” I told him. He laid his head back into the cradle and I shut the warmer door a little too hard. I hoped he didn’t hear it over the music. This day was turning to shit and I was only on my second client . . .

CHAPTER FIVE

Mali was in the hallway when I pushed through the thin curtain to search for towels. “I need water. Or warm towels.”

She put her fingers to her lips to tell me to hush. “There’s no water. I have towels. Who didn’t stock?”