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The bell on the front door tinkled, drawing my attention away from the depressing numbers. Maybe it was a walk-in. That would be a positive way to end the day.
“I’ll be right there,” I called out.
I stood and fluffed my long hair, then walked out to greet my potential customer.
A man stood just inside. His back was to me and he ran a hand over his hair, wiping some of the rain off. When he turned to face me, I blinked in surprise.
Tall. Thick, dark hair. Mesmerizing brown eyes. His bone structure was exquisite, his stubble neatly trimmed. He looked like he’d stepped right out of an ad for designer men’s cologne.
“Hi.” His voice was deep and smooth, flowing over me like rich maple syrup. “Are you open?”
It took me a second to answer and I felt my cheeks flush. “Yes. Yes, I’m open.”
He gave me a subtle grin, puckering dimples in both cheeks.
Both. Cheeks.
“Do you do men here?”
“Um, what?”
His smile grew. “Men’s haircuts? Both barbershops are closed, so I thought I’d try here.”
“Oh, yes. Of course I do. Yes. Come in.” I was so flustered, I needed to pull myself together. But oh my goodness, he was so handsome. “Can I take your coat?”
“Thanks.”
He slid his coat from his shoulders, revealing a button-down shirt and a pair of dark slacks. I took his coat, trying not to be further distracted by his obviously toned body.
Honestly, where had this man come from?
I hung up his coat and directed him to my chair. The first thing I usually did was run my fingers through a client’s hair while I asked them what they wanted. But I was so nervous, I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to touch him.
“So, what can I do for you?”
His eyes met mine in the mirror. “I just need a trim. Keep it short on the sides and back, but a little bit of length on top is fine.”
I nodded and finally compelled myself to touch his hair. It was healthy—thick and soft. I ran my fingers through the top and grabbed a comb.
“Preston,” he said.
“What?”
“My name.” There were those dark eyes in the mirror again. “Preston Bradford. And you are…?
“Marigold Martin.”
“Beautiful name.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s nice to meet you, Marigold Martin.”
“Thanks. You too.”
I swallowed hard. It would be all too easy to get lost in those mysterious eyes. I tore my gaze from the mirror and grabbed a cape. I was a professional. I just needed to do my job.
I put the cape around his shoulders and fastened it at the nape of his neck. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll wash your hair and then I can get started.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw him smile again.
Swoon.
