Zander was pleased to see that Duke really was cooped up in his private jet, waiting for the weather to clear. “Hi there, brother. How was Nepal?”
Duke’s lips tightened. “C’mon, Zander. I’m watching the live footage from the jet. You’re supposed to be walking down that aisle in less than ten minutes.”
“No,” Zander said, forcing his voice to say low. “You’re supposed to walk down that aisle in less than ten.”
Duke sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, man, okay? At least I left the ring there.”
Zander shook his head; the detail took him back. He hadn’t even thought about the ring. “You did what?”
“I’ve got it right here,” Mom said. She tossed the box to James, who caught it in one hand.
“Listen,” Duke continued. “I was an idiot to leave. Will you please just help me out tonight? I promise to take over the second I get back.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
Groans sounded from behind, but Mom’s was the loudest.
“You’re going to give your poor mother a heart attack,” Michael said from his spot on the lounge chair.
Zander squared a look at his twin through the screen. “You know what you’ll have to give up, right?”
Duke shrugged. “Of course. Bachelorhood, freedom, dating random chicks whenever I w—”
“Your hair,” Zander said.
Duke’s face fell flat. A curse slipped through his lips.
Zander grinned. “The man bun has to go or this won’t work.”
“You’re right.” An audible gulp slunk past Duke’s throat. “I know that.” He reached up a hand and gave the man bun a longing pat, as if testing to see that it was still there. His face hardened. “No problem. I’ll…do it as soon as I land. Send me the number to your barber, will you?”
“I will,” Zander assured. “But first, I need you to show me that you mean it.”
Duke’s face scrunched up. “I do mean it.”
But Zander only shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Show me that you’re serious by cutting it off now.” Sure, it might seem extreme, but Zander had seen Duke change his mind a million times over. He wasn’t about to step up and take his brother’s place without an equal commitment on his end. And his hair—that cherished man bun—was everything to him.
Duke’s jaw tightened as he shook his head. “Fine.”
Zander watched as he waved over the attendant on his grounded jet. A very beautiful attendant at that; Duke better be serious about kissing his flirtatious ways goodbye.
The woman nodded as he mumbled to her, and then stepped beyond the camera phone’s view. She was back in seconds flat, a small pair of scissors in her grip.
“I need you to cut my hair,” Duke mumbled to her. “If you don’t mind.”
“Cut it?” she asked, looking from Duke to the phone.
Zander nodded. “It has to look like mine eventually, so you can’t take off too much. But go ahead and pull it out of that little bun thing until it’s hanging down like a ponytail.”
Duke shot him a seething glare as the attendant did just that.
“We’re down to eight minutes now,” Mom warned.
Zander kept his eyes locked on the screen. “Okay,” he said to the attendant. “Slip the scissors around the length of his hair, then slide down just an inch or two… yeah, like that. Now give it a good, hard snip.”
Duke clenched his eyes as she did the deed, squeezing the small scissors several times to cut all the way through it while pinning the tip of his hair between her finger and thumb.
Once she was done, she handed the two-inch chunk of hair to Duke. “Here you are.”
