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“Excellent, thanks.” Trevor scooped up the key and left, snickering.
“What’s so funny?” Sam raised her brows.
“The manager matches the hotel.” He backed out and pulled in front of the room.
“City slickers, huh?” Sam chuckled. “Guess he’s got us pegged.”
“Not for long.” Trevor handed her the key and went around to open her door. “I’ll get the rest of our things.”
She smiled. “Okay.” She grabbed her backpack and sauntered inside.
He pulled out his go-bag and a duffle bag of clothing he’d gathered over the last week for both of them. She wasn’t the only one shopping second-hand stores. He sure hoped Aviss had found Davidson, but he couldn’t chance checking in with her yet. He hauled everything inside, closed the door, and stared. “Wow. Quite the place.”
“Isn’t it?” Sam snickered. “I should be wearing a ruffled skirt and a corset, and you should have a beat-up cowboy hat and a sixshooter.”
A carved wood four-posted bed with a dark brown cover dominated the space. Trevor shoved away a vision of Sam sprawled across that bed, ruffled skirt hiked up and corset undone. He surveyed the rest of the room. Black and white photos decorated the walls, and shiny, ruffled dark brown drapes shielded the room from outside. Two leather chairs sat on either side of a deep brown antique table in front of an opening to a shallow room beyond.
He dropped the bags and walked past the bed. A small refrigerator, microwave, and coffee maker sat on one end of the counter, with a sink on the other, a carved wood antique mirror suspended above it. Next to the sink, a door could close off a surprisingly modern bathroom, with a toilet and tub and shower combination. The shower curtain matched the room’s Old West theme.
Sam put her hand on his arm, pushing him aside. “The tub will make dyeing my hair easier.”
“That’s why I asked for one.” He’d have been smarter to ask for two beds, though.
She walked into the bathroom. “Good choice. I smell like smoke, so I’m calling dibs on the shower.” The door closed in his face. “Find us some dinner, will you?”
“Yeah. Make sure you repack your bag in case we have to leave fast.” Trevor took in a deep breath. He’d concentrate on food, not Sam standing in the shower, washing her long auburn hair, soap bubbles cascading across her skin…
Shuddering, he searched for the restaurant menu. Leaving the room to get dinner seemed like an excellent idea.
Chapter nine
Sam twisted the thin towel around her hair and picked up the hair coloring instructions. Erin had wisely chosen a dark brown rather than an attention-gathering blonde or black. The shade was close to the room’s color scheme; she’d blend right into the bedspread.
“Sam, dinner in about twenty minutes,” Trevor called.
“Thanks!” She read the instructions; she might have time to finish if she hurried, so she mixed the color and set the bottle on the closed toilet lid.
“Do you need help?”
She bit back an immediate no. She didn’t want Trevor touching her, but with her long hair, assistance would make the process faster. Pulling the towel off, she grabbed the plain black T-shirt she’d chosen, since stains wouldn’t show, and pulled it on, along with a pair of black leggings. She opened the door. “Actually, yes, please. If I had short hair, this would be easy, but mine’s pretty long. Put something on that you don’t mind getting stained dark brown.”
Trevor blinked at her for a moment, then grimaced. “Okay.” He closed the door, returning a few moments later in an outfit that almost matched hers, his feet bare. “Can we get this done before dinner arrives?” He scowled.
The scowl said Trevor wasn’t attracted to her after all. She shouldn’t be surprised; protecting her was his job. “We can get the dye applied, and it can process while we eat.” She sat on the floor, hoping it was as clean as it looked, and let her hair flow into the tub. “You can sit on the edge of the tub. I’ll scoot over when you need to do the other side.” She handed him the instructions. “Put the gloves on and squirt this stuff into my hair in sections. You’ll have to rub it in, kind of, and there’s a comb.” She nodded at the comb on the closed toilet lid.
He sat gingerly on her left side. “Okay. It’s my first time, so don’t blame me if this turns out terrible.”
She couldn’t hold back her laugh. “You think I color my hair? If I wanted it a different shade, I’d get my stylist to do it. And he’d refuse. He loves my color.” Emile constantly asked her to model at hair conventions, which would be awkward, except his husband owned the salon. “I’d have thought you’d done this before, Mister Secret Agent Man.” She ran her index finger along the back of her head, pulling most of her hair on top and fastening it with a clip, so he could start at the bottom.
Trevor chuckled, the thin gloves snapping on his wrists. “Not a secret agent, remember? I’m an accountant.” He picked up the bottle and the comb.
“Right. You don’t act like an accountant.” He’d hidden in plain sight as different contractors for a solid week.
Cold squirted on the back of her head, making goosebumps rise, then his fingers rubbed where her head met her neck. She shivered, but it wasn’t just the hair dye. His touch was gentle but energizing. She should have thought twice before letting Trevor do something so intimate.
“I just look at the books. This is my first time in the field.” His fingers left her head, and her hair pulled tight. “Sorry. Comb caught.”
Sam bit her lip. She wanted his hands everywhere, not just her head. Which was bad. She couldn’t afford to fall for Trevor Mills again. “Don’t worry about pulling. Just squirt it on and rub.” She cringed at the unintended double entendre.
