Her Kind of Hero - Cindy Kirk Page 0,55
even think of it, much less consider it an option.
Mitzi was a doctor, for chrissakes. Established. Ready to settle down. She was building a million-dollar home in an exclusive subdivision of Jackson Hole.
While he didn’t believe himself to be less than any other man, Keenan was also a realist. Mitzi was ready to settle down while he was starting over.
But if he loved her and she loved him...
He pulled his thoughts up short. That was really the crux of the matter. What did she feel for him?
If she did love him, why couldn’t they build a life together? He was driven to succeed. He would work hard, be as successful in his chosen field as she was in hers. If she’d just give him a chance...
“Keenan.”
He jerked his head up and realized he’d reached the salon.
Cassidy’s smile was wide and friendly and the tension gripping his shoulders eased.
“Ready to go blue?” the hairstylist asked. “It’s a delightfully delectable color and it’s trending right now.”
His gaze lingered on her short choppy hair, streaked royal blue and platinum. “Looks good on you.”
“Aren’t you a sweet man.” Her smile widened with pleasure.
Looking at her now, at the wide smile on her face, his heart warmed. He recalled the child who’d worn a Halloween catsuit every day to kindergarten, a little girl from the wrong side of the tracks whom teachers labeled quirky. Even back then Keenan had known that survival took many forms.
Remembering—understanding—spawned a rush of brotherly affection. While he and Betsy had each other, Cassidy had been the sole sane one in that dysfunctional house at the end of the block.
“If you and Dr. Sanchez go Splitsville, you know where to find me,” Cassidy said in a loud whisper.
Impulsively, Keenan looped a companionable arm around her shoulder and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. “Cassidy, darlin’, you’ll be the first one I call.”
Like a missile, red shot up her cheeks. She cleared her throat then gestured with her head. “Your honey arrived early.”
Keenan turned toward a row of chairs to find the doctor sitting patiently while one of Cassidy’s associates wrapped little pieces of foil in her hair.
Her eyes met Keenan. She raised a brow.
Releasing Cassidy’s arm, he strolled over to Mitzi. When he got close, he stopped, cocked his head. “I can’t picture you as a blue-head.”
“Would it insult you if I admitted I have no problem picturing you with blue spiky hair?”
He laughed. God, he loved this woman.
“You’ll look elegant, as always.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “While I will resemble a Blue Man Group castoff.”
“If you’d like, you can sit right here, Keenan.” Cassidy gestured to the chair next to Mitzi, casting the doctor an apologetic look. “That way the two of you can talk while you go blue.”
“Great.” Keenan plopped into the chair before Mitzi could respond.
Cassidy studied his hair with an experienced eye. “While you’re here, should I trim it up?”
Keenan slanted a sideways glance at Mitzi. Though it was longer than he normally liked, she’d told him more than once how much she liked running her fingers through it when they made love.
But her face was expressionless, telling him nothing.
“Not today,” he said. “If I change my mind, I’ll come back.”
Cassidy raked her fingers through the dark strands. “You have nice hair. Thick and silky.”
Mitzi’s lips curved in the slightest of smiles. This time when his gaze met hers, it held and he felt the connection.
Getting his hair colored didn’t take as long as Keenan had anticipated. Cassidy talked nonstop to both him and Mitzi, while her associate, a waif named Daffodil Prentiss, focused on Mitzi’s hair.
When they finished, the doctor’s hair was dark with a ribbon of deep blue running through the auburn strands. Cassidy had taken a different approach with his and colored only the tips.
The good news was one haircut and the color would be gone. The bad news was the tips were an eye-popping electric blue.
Had he really expected subtlety from Cassidy Kaye?
“Do you like it?” she asked Mitzi, looking surprisingly anxious.
“Why are you asking her?” Keenan asked. “It’s my hair.”
“She’s the one who has to look at it,” Cassidy shot back.
To his surprise, Mitzi stepped closer and slid her fingers through his hair in a possessive gesture. Keenan wasn’t into female messages, but to him, it clearly said, he’s mine.
“I like it,” Mitzi declared. “Sexy.”
Without warning, the heat, the electricity, the intense emotion that filled the air whenever they were close, scorched his blood.
“Hoo-kay, then.” Cassidy smiled brightly. “Thank you