Page 56 of Falling for my Best Friend

I pointed the jet at his head, shielding the backsplash with my hand. “Is that too hot?”

“No, it’s perfect,” he said, closing his eyes.

From where I was standing, it looked like his dark eyelashes reached all the way to the apples of his cheeks. I grabbed one chunk of his soft hair at a time, making sure to wet it down to the scalp. Then I lifted my thumb from the button on the nozzle, slipped it back into its holster, and reached for some shampoo, releasing two pumps into my hand.

“Please don’t make me smell like a woman,” he said, his eyes popping open.

I laughed. “You’ve never smelled like a woman a day in your life.”

“Was that a jab?”

“Not at all.”

“You know what I mean though?”

“I’m using the most masculine stuff we have, I promise,” I said, warming the shampoo in my hands. “In fact, there are hops in it.”

“Like in beer?”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe you could give me a glass of it while I relax.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “But if you’d like tea or coffee, that I can do.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know if I get thirsty.”

“Please do.” I lowered my sudsy hands against his head and started working the lather against his scalp with my fingertips.

“Oh my god.”

“Is that too hard?” I asked, stopping for a moment.

“Not at all. That feels amazing.”

I smiled. “I’m glad.”

“And here I thought I was good with my hands.”

“I’m not sure it’s the same,” I said, kneading my fingers in tiny circles. “My hands don’t actually have the power to heal like yours do.”

“I’m going to have to disagree with you there.”

I felt my chest swell every time I glanced at the wide smile on his face. Once his head was good and soapy, I depressed the button on the nozzle and rinsed the shampoo from his hair.

“Please tell me we get to do that again.”

I laughed and reached for the conditioner. “Yeah, we get to do it one more time.” I pumped the cold conditioner in my hand and started to warm it between my palms. “I’ll try to make it count.”

“Excellent.”

I wrapped my hands around his head and began working the conditioner through to the ends of his hair.

“Does anyone blatantly moan while you do this?”

“No,” I said, digging my fingers into his scalp. “Customers generally refrain from moaning.”

“That must be so awkward for them, wanting to moan so bad but not wanting to freak you out.”

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