Page 33 of Everlasting Promises

Taking a step back, I swallow past the guilt lodged in my throat. I lift my eyes back to his hair and work through the strands, using the comb and my fingers to gather and measure the length before I cut each section, keeping things professional and squashing the attraction I feel to him.

I’m utterly mortified.

If Ben could read my thoughts, I’m certain he’d run a mile—and then Evan would miss out on having such a great role model in his life. Without Wyatt in the picture, my priority is ensuring Evan has good men in his life he can turn to. Wyatt’s friends—Shane and Nix—have been fantastic. My brother Cole lives too far away to offer any support, but Dad and Wyatt’s dad are regular fixtures in his life, which is a blessing. Another stable man to provide guidance would be amazing, especially since I’ve asked Shane to step back.

Pressure lands on my hips, and I jump a little. Looking down, I find Ben’s warm hands causing the pressure where they rest gently on my slight curves, as he looks up at me with furrows across his forehead.

“Are you okay?”

When I raise my eyes to his, I notice small patches of amber near the pupils in his concerned gray gaze. So pretty.

What is going on with me?

His hands are so big. So warm. Soterrifying.

I swallow, then lick my dry lips, and put on an air of nonchalance. “Yeah,” I say, but the single word comes out raspy and on a shaky breath, which is not convincing at all.

He doesn’t remove his hands, and neither of us looks away. For a few long moments, we’re caught in each other’s gaze. Myheart beats like a drum—thick and heavy. A pulsing rhythm that sends my blood gushing through my system and into my ears. My eyes drop to his lips and his eyes drop to mine. The heat up the side of my neck intensifies.

I’m the first to look away. Returning my focus to his hair, and the task, I desperately try to gain control of my hormones and thoughts—thoughts wholly inappropriate for a married woman.

Finally, he removes his hands, placing them back on his thighs. Ishouldfeel relief at the reprieve, instead I feel cold and left adrift. Everything’s so confusing. Maybe it would have been better if he’d come into the salon. It wouldn’t feel so intimate. It would be safer.

Evan’s feet pound on the steps, followed by the click of Rex’s nails, as they make their way toward us. “Mom, can you cut my hair like Ben’s?”

I turn toward my son with eyebrows halfway up my forehead. “You hate getting your hair cut. I always have to bribe you.”

He drops his head, looking at his feet. “Yeah, well. Ben’s hair is cool.” He looks back up at me. “If you cut mine like that, I wouldn’t mind so much.”

I’m not sure I’m ready to change his boyish hairstyle, but ultimately, it’s his hair, and his decision. “Okay, I’m almost finished here, and you guys can swap places.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Can you please bring out the lemon tea and three glasses? I’m sure Ben would like a drink.”

“Okay.” Evan heads inside, and the screen door bangs shut behind him.

I shake my head with a chuckle and look down at Ben. “Please only ever use your influence over him for good and not evil.”

He draws his finger across his heart and then repeats the process in the opposite direction. “Promise.” He winks at me,sending a flutter through my stomach, and shows his perfect teeth when he grins. All he needs is a pair of dimples, and he’d be completely irresistible.

I fidget with his hair, getting it just right, then clip around his ears and along his hairline to tidy everything up. I dust the chopped hair away from the back of his neck, ensuring I get every last strand. “Okay. I’m done. There’s a mirror in the bathroom if you’d like to take a look.”

He waves me off. “I trust you.”

I wince when I feel a hair splinter stuck beneath my fingernail, an unfortunate hazard of the job. Pinching my finger, I search for the offending hair.

Ben moves closer, taking my finger between his and studying it closely, sending tingles racing like fire up my arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just a hair splinter.” I pull my hand back and direct all my focus on removing the tiny hair to block my unwanted reaction to the man standing too close to me. Suddenly, the porch feels too small as he towers over me, and I take a step back to keep space between us. In an attempt to regain my equilibrium, I close my eyes as I suck my finger into my mouth to soothe the sting.

My eyes snap open and my lungs deflate when Evan steps out with a jug and three glasses, breaking the tension. Filled with relief, I take them from him to place on the outdoor table so I can pour us each a drink. We each grab a glass, and Evan sits in the chair Ben vacated.

“All right. Are you ready?”

He nods eagerly. “Sure am.”

“Are you sure? Your hair will be a lot shorter than it is now.” I study his face, looking for any sign he’s having second thoughts, but come up blank.

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