“That’s what scares me most about meeting my mother. I’ve played her up so much in my mind that it will be near impossible for her to live up to expectation.”
It didn’t take a clairvoyant to read the future for Bodhi and based on my own experience, I feared he was in for a massive disappointment. If his mother had stayed out of his life for this long, there was a reason, and it probably wasn’t a good one.
“Okay,” I said, changing the tone. There was no room for heavy conversation in the middle of a makeover. “Let me show you the style I had in mind.”
He settled back into the chair, appearing completely comfortable with the idea of my chopping off his iconic hair.
“Here,” I said holding up a picture on my phone. Bodhi diverted his eyes before he got a look at the hip new style I was suggesting.
“No. I want to be surprised.”
When it came to new hairstyles, surprise was never a good idea. Although, with Bodhi’s strong facial features he could pull off just about anything.
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be pissed if you don’t like it.”
“I told you Breeze, I trust you.”
And shockingly, I believed he meant every word.
* * *
I spent the following thirty minutes bleaching strips of blond into his naturally dark brown locks. Although his strands were free from highlights at the moment, Bodhi was no stranger to color as he related to me in hilarious detail. His hair had been all shades of the rainbow during his rise to fame and he had old pictures of himself on the internet to prove it.
We chatted effortlessly throughout the process and I realized that this easy camaraderie had been lacking on the few dates I’d had since my break up. Despite our vastly different lives, we were just a guy and a girl finding our way in an upside-down world.
“Okay, let’s get you to the sink,” I said, absently running my fingernails the length of his neck. Why I felt comfortable enough to touch him with such confidence, I didn’t know. I just was. From the look of lust in Bodhi’s smoldering eyes, he didn’t mind.
A few miles away, the fire continued to tear its way through the coastal mountain range, yet even that roaring inferno wasn’t as hot as the intensity between us. Bodhi grabbed my hand, pulling me into his lap and, as it had been earlier, we were all over each other again. Our mouths collided, lips working furiously as our tongues danced to the beat of a pop-country song. Nimble fingers slid under my shirt while I cradled his face, rocking against him.
“Oh god, this is… are you sure no one will come by?” he asked, hands poised at the tiny hooks on my bra.
“No, not sure at all.”
“What about the window? Do you think people can see in?”
The entire front of the salon was a giant window. “Yes. It’s glass, which is typically see-through in both directions.”
Bodhi’s laughed died when I ground my center against his burgeoning erection. Then an image popped into my head of his fried hair falling out in clumps at my feet.
“What about the bleach?” I asked, enthralled by the hand that had mercifully appeared between my legs.
“Fuck the bleach.”
“Okay,” I panted, so far out of control that I wouldn’t even have cared if Hugh walked through the door with the final rose. “Fuck the bleach.”
“Although,” he hesitated. “What exactly will happen if it stays in for too long?”
I dipped my hand into his yoga pants. “Your hair will fall out.”
It was then that we came to our senses and laughed at the absurdity.
Nudging me forward, he adjusted his erection. “Sorry, Breeze. You lost me at clumps.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
Untangling our limbs, I hopped to my feet, and ushered Bodhi to the shampoo bowl. Once he was in the reclining chair, getting him to focus proved difficult. His hand slid to the back of my leg as I worked my fingers gently through his hair. And then that talented mouth clamped down on my nipple through the thin fabric of my shirt.
