“Devon is a dick,” Jonathan agreed. “But he’s a hot dick, and Rosa won’t cut him loose. She prefers looks over substance. Not me. How about you?”
“I don’t have any requirements right now,” Lily said. “I’m not interested in your species. At all.”
“Uh-huh. What about your own species then?” he asked. “Because there’s nothing wrong with changing up teams for a little bit.”
“I’m not interested in any team,” she clarified.
“How do you know unless you try it?”
He was teasing her, and she teased back with, “Who says I haven’t tried it?”
Jonathan nearly choked on his own tongue, but then he caught sight of something over her shoulder and his gaze went from amused to frank and appraising in a single beat.
Either Channing Tatum had just appeared out of thin air, or …
Yep. Aidan.
He stood there in his firefighter polo and work cargoes, radio on his hip, expression broadcasting a rough mood, looking hot enough to start a fire all on his own.
He nodded to Jonathan and met her gaze.
“Hey,” she said, trying to look and sound cool. But apparently she failed, because he grinned. Behind her, Jonathan chuckled at her predicament, the rat-fink bastard.
Blowing out a sigh, she met Aidan’s gaze. “Can we help you?”
Mercifully, he let it go and gestured to the stocked shelves of product. “My mom wanted me to come by and pick up some of that girlie gunk stuff you used on her hair.”
“A man who’s not afraid to stride into a salon and ask for girlie gunk,” Jonathan said. “I like it. I’ll leave it on the front counter for you. Now you kids take a minute to yourselves and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Then he waggled his brow at Lily and walked off.
She sighed. “How long were you standing there?”
Aidan smiled. “Long enough to know I want to hear your ‘one time at band camp’ story.”
She blushed. “Never mind me. Are you really here for your mom?”
He shrugged. “She says she can’t live without the stuff. She asked Gray to come get it, but he told her over his dead body. So she threatened to tell Penny, and then he finally agreed to get it for her.”
“So why isn’t Gray here?” she asked, fascinated by his family’s crazy dynamics and how in spite of that they all remained close.
“Because he doesn’t have a thing for the new, pretty cosmetologist.”
Ridiculously, Lily’s heart picked up speed, but she rolled her eyes.
He grinned at her. “It’s true. Even if she did cut my hair uneven.”
“I did no such thing,” she said, straightening, completely indignant.
“Look.” He shoved his fingers through his hair, making it stand up on end. “See? Crooked.”
She gave him a nudge toward her empty chair. “There’s no way. Sit.”
“Don’t you have to wash it first?”
She turned to look at him, but he didn’t seem to be up to anything, so she led him to the wash station and cranked the hot water. She had just wet his head and run her fingers through his silky hair when the radio at his hip crackled.
“Is that you?” she asked.
He reached down and cranked up the volume, listened for a minute, and then shook his head. “No. Not my unit.”
She let out a breath. She’d given thought to what his life as a firefighter meant to her—terror. But she’d not thought about what it meant for him, being on call, constantly at the ready to literally jump into the fire, carrying the burden of all the responsibilities that went with it, like saving lives.
On a good day she felt overwhelmed by her life. She couldn’t even imagine carrying the weight he did. Reaching over him, she pumped some shampoo into her hand.
His gaze ran the length of her arm just over his head and then met her gaze.
His eyes were hot.
Ignoring both him and her reaction to him, she sudsed him up. His eyes drifted shut, and his entire body relaxed. As she gave him a scalp massage, he let out a low groan from deep in his throat.
“You have great hands,” he said.
She should have known it. He had managed to con her into a skull massage. She held her tongue until she finished and brought him back to her station. Standing behind him, she ran her fingers through his wet hair. His perfectly cut wet hair that was so evenly matched on both sides she could have used it to set a ruler. Then, hands on hips, head tilted, she met his gaze in the mirror.
“Busted,” he said, not looking the least bit embarrassed or sorry.
“You could have just asked for a wash,” she said.
“Nah, this was way more fun.”
She opened her mouth but his radio went off again, and though his eyes remained on her, he was clearly concentrating on the radio and the garbled words she could barely make out.
Then suddenly he stood, all joking and good humor gone from his gaze. “Gotta go,” he said.
“You’re still wet.”
“No worries.” He shook his head like a big dog and then, shoving his hand into his pocket, came up with cash.
Lily pushed his hand away. “No.”
“I pay my debts.”