True-Blue Cowboy - Vicki Lewis Thompson Page 0,1
Hadn’t meant to let on about that. But the brush of her fingers against his neck had revved his motor and loosened his tongue.
“Then I’ll do my best to keep it dry. Going to the Moose tonight?” She adjusted the chair so he was perpendicular to the floor, like Rafe.
“Not planning on it.” He should have said he was going. That would justify wearing the shirt. But he’d never been good at fibbing.
“Just felt like wearing your new shirt?”
“Right. Gotta break it in, get used to seeing myself in it.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think it suits you.”
“Should I wear it on Saturday?”
“Sure, why not?” She’d cushioned the lip of the sink with a towel and, like always, she cupped the back of his head to guide him into position.
“Then I will.” Her gentle touch would have been enough to bring him in here on a regular basis even if she’d been lousy at cutting hair. She wasn’t, though. He gladly paid more than he would have at the barber shop.
“How’s the water temperature?”
“Perfect.”
He closed his eyes as she ran warm water over his hair. This next thing was his favorite part, when she worked shampoo into his hair and massaged his scalp.
She had to get close to do it. Her soft breath touched his face, exactly as it would if she’d leaned down to kiss him. He didn’t let that concept take hold, though, or he’d be in trouble.
Surrounded by her scent and the warmth of her body, he longed to relax into the pleasure her nimble fingers gave him. He didn’t dare. Every appointment provided the same torturous struggle, one he could avoid by ditching this program and going back to the barber shop. He couldn’t make himself do it.
“Have you figured out what you’re offering?”
Offering? To her? Everything. Oh. For the bachelor auction. They’d each had to dream up something special for the winning bidder. Rafe had quickly claimed an all-day trail ride, which had been Nick’s idea, too. Then Leo had taken his other plan, so—
“Nick?”
“Sorry. Had to stop and think.”
“Dinner and dancing at the Moose?”
“No, Leo’s got that one. We didn’t want to be repetitive. Mine is twelve hours of manual labor. Eight in the morning to eight at night, with a couple of breaks for food. Whatever grunt work somebody needs done, I’ll handle.”
“Wow. I’ll bet you could get a lot accomplished in that time.” She rinsed the suds out of his hair and stroked conditioner in.
He laughed. “Got some jobs for me?”
“Don’t I ever. But with your muscles, you’ll probably bring more than I can afford.”
“Maybe not.” Gratifying that she’d recognized he was in shape. Would she bid on him? What a tantalizing prospect.
“Oh, I think folks will be chomping at the bit to snag a day of hard labor from you. Maybe you shouldn’t wear this shirt for the auction, after all.”
“Why not?”
Warm water cascaded over his head as she rinsed out the conditioner. “You need to show off your potential. Wear a tight T-shirt instead.”
“You think?”
“Definitely. You look great in those.” Wrapping a towel around his wet hair, she levered him to a sitting position and turned him to face the mirror.
He used the time to compose himself. At some point in time, she’d admired how he filled out a T-shirt. How cool was that?
Since he wore Western shirts to his appointments, clearly she’d been paying attention when they’d bumped into each other in town this summer. Maybe he wasn’t completely out of the running, after all. And maybe he should wear T-shirts to the salon from now on.
He’d been lifting weights for years just so he could eat whatever he wanted, but since meeting Eva he’d made a more concentrated effort to develop his abs. Not that he’d ever expected her to notice.
She’d not only checked him out, she’d love to put his brawn to work. Maybe he’d be lucky and the bidding would stay within her price range. “What is it you need done?”
“To start with, I want to haul everything out of the attic.” She rubbed his hair with the towel, tossed it in a hamper and picked up a comb.
“Didn’t you just move in?”
“I guess I haven’t talked to you since I closed on the house. The bank let me buy the contents, which saved them the trouble of an estate sale. I’d hoped I could do that because I love antiques.”
“Bet Miss Barton had a ton of them.”
“Yep. She was born in that house. I