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Amber takes my hand and leads me toward the shampoo bowl. “All right, sir. Time for your shampoo.” She waggles her eyebrows.
“I could get used to the sir thing,” I whisper, keeping my voice low.
“I heard that!” Peter yells from his station several yards away.
Amber and I glance at each other, and I know we’re both wondering how he heard me.
She shakes her head, still smiling at Peter’s antics, then brings her hands to my shoulders and gently pushes me into the plush leather chair. There’s a row of five washing stations, all with leather chairs that compliment the ones at each stylist’s station. We’re the only ones in the salon right now—one of the perks of being a silent owner. I’ll tell Amber about it eventually, but not today.
Once I’m seated, she turns on the water. While it’s warming up, she finds a towel in the cabinet below the sink and selects the shampoo she wants to use on me. She places a hand on my shoulder, urging me to lean back and relax while she washes my hair.
She smiles down at me, the red strands coming free from her updo are dangling down, nearly touching my face. I want to pull her down and kiss her senseless, but I refrain and let her get to work.
Amber wets my hair with the sprayer, and the warm water feels nice, and I relax into the seat a little more, allowing my legs to stretch out in front of me.
Amber turns off the water, and replaced it with her hands. Her brilliant magical hands. I close my eyes as she massages shampoo—spearmint-scented—into my scalp. The pressure of her fingers is firm as they run small circles along my scalp and nape. I think I could fall asleep here, with her massaging her hands through my hair.
“I’d give anything to trade hair with you,” she whispers. “It’s so pretty.”
From anyone else, I wouldn’t take pretty hair as a compliment. But I just like that she thinks nice things about my hair.
“I wouldn’t let you,” I whisper back. “I love your red hair too much.”
I open my eyes to find her blushing. I wink at her, and she giggles. Giggling is a new thing, and I’d like to get her to make that sound again and again.
Amber continues massaging my scalp, and I wonder if she shampoos everyone this thoroughly. I’m not sure I love the idea of some other guy getting to experience her hands like this. Her fingernails lightly scrape against my scalp, moving up so the pads of her thumbs glide over my temples.
A sigh escapes me, and for a moment I’m self-conscious, worried it was too loud. But Amber makes no comment about it.
Finally, she rinses out the shampoo, and I expect it to be over. But she holds up a bottle of conditioner—I never use conditioner, but I remember seeing it in my sisters’ bathroom growing up. She squirts it into her hands and starts the massage over again. Conditioner is my new favorite thing.
By the time she’s finished and wrapping my head in a white, fluffy towel, my knees are wobbly. Her shampoo has put me in a trance, like my brain was asleep the entire time, but my body was fully awake and feeling everything.
She raises the chair so I’m sitting upright again, and I have to blink a few times for the salon to come back into focus.
Somehow, I stand up and follow Amber back to her station.
Peter is sitting in his swivel chair and makes a show of glancing at his watch. “Good work on the relaxation techniques, but you might have to speed up the washing process in the future if you want to fit more than one client into your schedule.”
Amber grins, draping me with a black cape. “Oh, don’t worry. That was the husband special.”
I want to breathe a sigh of relief that not everyone will get the husband special, but I hold it in.
Amber continues showing off her skills, and I end up with the best fade of my life. I study the haircut in the mirror, running my hands through the short strands on top, which she has styled with mousse. “Wow.”
Peter heaves a heavy sigh. “Thanks a lot, Amber. Now Ford will never let me at those gorgeous locks of his again. The haircut looks amazing, girl.”
She beams at his praise. “Thank you!”
“So, when can you start?” He asks, reaching down and tickling Nella’s feet.
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
AMBER
I’m tired after our full day of eating, my tour of the salon, and then shopping for nursery furniture. But I’m excited for my first WAG night and had an iced coffee on the way home to perk up.
