Page 24 of The Angel and the Agent

“Consult,” she repeated, confused.

“Someone told me I’m going gray and need to have my hair colored,” he said. “I thought it best to get a professional opinion.”

“Let me take a look here,” she said, and now she did lean forward, sifting her fingers gently through his hair. “Hmm, it looks pretty good to me. How old are you?”

“Twenty eight,” he whispered.

“That’s pretty old, but you’re in luck. I think you’re going to be able to keep your natural color,” she said. “Unless maybe you’d prefer the gray?”

“I’ve been told I have the coloring for it,” he said.

“You do have excellent coloring. Very, uh, healthy,” she said.

“It’s probably a good thing I don’t need anything done. I was browsing a brochure while I was waiting, and I don’t think I could afford you,” he said.

“Maybe we could make some sort of exchange. I could do your hair, and you could index things for me,” she suggested.

“I don’t come cheap either,” he said.

“Yeah? What’s a good indexer go for these days?” she asked.

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” he said. The heat from his gaze was so intense, it left her a little breathless.

“You left me nowhere to go from there,” she said.

He laughed. “I should go anyway. I have a flight to catch.”

“Have fun in ‘Canada’.”

“I’ll try,” he promised.

“Wear sunscreen. Last time you came home with a pink nose.”

“You know how brutal that Canadian sun can be,” he said. “Are you going to walk me outside?”

Danger, danger, danger.If she walked him outside, she’d be in his arms and kissing him like an ant on tree sap. “I have a client in a few minutes,” she said, clearing her throat when it came out all raspy.

“I guess this is goodbye then. I’ll see you sometime after I get back.”

“Hey, thanks for making my day and possibly my year,” she said.

“Only a year? Guess I’ll have to try harder next time.” He kissed the tip of his finger and touched it to her cheek before standing and making his way out of the salon. Amelia could swear it wasn’t her imagination all eyes were on him.

“Who was that?” Her client had arrived and was now standing beside her watching Ethan walk out of the shop, along with everybody else. Amelia hadn’t filled her water or put her purse away, but she found she didn’t so much care anymore.

“A friend,” Amelia said.

“Have mercy, is he available?” the woman asked.

“For your granddaughter?” Amelia asked. Her client was seventy two and on the last visit told Amelia she had a granddaughter about her age.

“Child, you don’t waste a man like that on someone who doesn’t know what to do with him, and it’s been a while since I had a pet,” the woman mused.

Amelia tried to imagine Ethan’s reaction to the disconcerting conversation. “He’s not exactly the kind of man who likes to be kept.”

“I suppose that’s why we like that kind,” the woman replied, sighing. “They’re like tropical birds, attractive but best left in their natural habitat.”

It was amazing to Amelia the woman could capture Ethan’s essence after merely a glimpse: he was beautiful but wild and uncontained.

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