Читать книгу The Heart of a Man - Deb Kastner - Страница 11

“Do you want to take a ride in my sports car?” Dustin offered, jingling the keys in his pocket as he held the deli door open for her and gestured her through ahead of him.

She glanced up at the dim sunlight. At least it didn’t look as if it was going to rain, or worse, snow. Colorado winters were unpredictable. “Tempting as the offer sounds, a ride won’t be necessary. We can walk where we’re going.”

As soon as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, he automatically repositioned himself so he was walking closer to the curb. The sign of a true gentleman, Isobel thought. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

Dustin kept his hands in his pockets and whistled as he walked, glancing at her from time to time and genuinely smiling, although a bit as if he had a secret he wasn’t yet ready to share with her. He seemed in no hurry, but rather content just to walk slowly and casually, as if they were old friends.

And he was certainly taking this well, having to make sudden changes in his life dictated by another person he had only just met and had no reason yet to trust.

If she were in his position, she knew she would be balking and pulling at the reins at such outrageous and uncomfortable demands.

Then again, maybe he didn’t really know what he was getting himself into.

Yet.

She stopped and gestured at a shop door. “We’re here.”

Dustin glanced up at the sign and froze.

“No way,” he said, his voice low and guttural. “No possible way.”

“Now, Dustin, be reasonable,” she pleaded, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder, hoping he would take the hint and look at her.

He did.

And when their eyes met, Isobel felt exactly what he was feeling—the shock, the panic, the desire to run.

Truth told, she felt like running, herself, and pulling him along. But that wasn’t what she was here to do, and Dustin had to start somewhere. Here was as good a spot as any.

She would not back down, no matter how his bright green puppy-dog eyes implored her to do so.

“It’s not as bad as all that,” she assured him, not certain how committed she sounded.

He shook his head. “Says you.”

“Trust me?” she urged.

His gaze asked, Why should I? His jaw was clenched, but he stepped forward and opened the door for her. “After you.”

She grinned in triumph, her heart pumping at the battle of wills she had just fought and won. This was a big victory for her—her first—and would no doubt be one of her best. It would pave the way for other small successes and triumphs.

The end result, of course, would be a final product of which she could be proud—and more importantly, of which Dustin could be proud.

“Ricardo, please meet my friend, Dustin,” Isobel said as her regular hairdresser rushed forward and kissed both her hands.

Ricardo was unique and not a little odd with his spiked purple hair and dozens of gold necklaces that encompassed his broad, hairy chest, not to mention his bombastic personality and shrill voice.

His personality and flashy looks took some getting used to, but when it came to hair, Ricardo was the best in the industry.

Dustin, his eyebrows raised and his expression one of pure panic, was halfway out the door before Isobel caught him by the elbow.

“No way,” he whispered in her ear. “Look at that guy’s hair. I’m not letting him anywhere near me with a pair of scissors. He obviously has no clue what he’s doing.”

She laughed. “Hairdressers don’t do their own hair,” she said, nudging him back into the room. “Haven’t you ever heard the elementary-school logic problem about the small town with only two barbers?”

He looked at her as if she’d gone mad. She smothered a smile.

“Obviously not.” She burst into laughter at the horrified, stubborn look on his face. He was adorable when he was being mulish.

With a flourish of her arms, she continued with her story. “So, then. There were only two barbers in this small town. One of the barbers had a neat trim, and the other’s hair was chopped at odd edges. Now think about it, Dustin. Which of these two barbers would you rather go to?”

Delighted, she was aware of how his eyes immediately began to sparkle with understanding and his amused gaze turned on her.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve never heard that one before, and I’ll admit you have a valid point. But then again, I have no reason to trust Ricardo, despite your clever stories.” He winked at her. “I haven’t seen the other barber, so to speak,” he reminded her, his voice grave but his eyes alight with humor.

“Oh, yes, you have,” she countered, grinning back at him. She ran her fingers through the thick lengths of her long, chocolate-brown hair, circling the ends with her fingers. “You’re looking at her.”

“That man does your hair?” he said in an incredulous whisper. “Surely not.”

“Oh, but he does. Ricardo is a genius. He not only cuts my hair, but he has a clientele list that would blow your mind. The best haircuts in Denver are provided by this man, I assure you.”

Dustin yanked off his newsboy cap and scratched the top of his head, still looking as if he might bolt. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered.

Isobel wordlessly took his arm and led him farther into the hair studio. Ricardo, who had no doubt heard most of their conversation, elegantly gestured to a barber chair and indicated Dustin should sit. Isobel was surprised the hairstylist’s expression didn’t betray a thing.

He drew a smock around Dustin and directed his gaze to Isobel. “What would you like done with the young man, my dear?”

“His hair,” Isobel joked.

“Really?” Ricardo made a gesture of surprise, his hands over his mouth. “And here I was all ready to give him a pedicure.”

Dustin’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped at what he no doubt considered a threat. Pinching his mouth closed with a frustrated twist to his lips, he quickly tucked his feet under the smock, making Ricardo howl with unabashed laughter.

“Cut it short,” said Isobel decisively, and Dustin cringed, shirking his shoulders and glaring first at her and then at Ricardo.

She paused a minute to let him stew before continuing her direction to Ricardo, not allowing herself the satisfied smile she was feeling inside.

“Not too short, though. A business cut. Something to keep his curls in order. And he’s still young—keep the front long enough to comb back.”

“I’m going to look like a toddler,” Dustin grumbled good-naturedly.

“Not with Ricardo’s help, you won’t,” she assured him, moving forward to place a hand on his shoulder. “He is perfection itself.”

She turned halfway away from him and muttered, “Not like you could look like a toddler.”

“What was that?” Dustin asked immediately, sounding suspicious.

She turned back to him and grinned. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking aloud.”

Dustin’s gaze met hers in the large mirror in front of them. He still didn’t look convinced.

“Trust me,” she pleaded. “I really do know what I’m doing.”

He gave her a clipped nod.

Knowing no amount of verbal persuasion would help, she stepped back then and let the master hairdresser go to his work.

The first thing Ricardo did, after giving Dustin a thorough shampoo and returning him to his chair, was to turn Dustin away from the mirror, which Isobel immediately understood and thought was an excellent idea. The worst thing that could happen would be for Dustin to run out before his haircut was finished.

Half a haircut would definitely not be an improvement on no haircut at all. She curled her fingers around in front of her mouth to hide her amusement, but Dustin caught her motion and glared at her anyway.

Dustin closed his eyes as Ricardo trimmed the back of his hair flush with his neckline. The more the hairdresser snipped, the curlier Dustin’s hair became, but they were soft, natural curls instead of the long, frizzier style he’d worn before.

Finally, Ricardo dropped a bottle of hair gel into Dustin’s lap without a word.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Dustin growled, picking up the bottle and eyeing it suspiciously. “I’m a wash-and-wear kind of guy.”

“Allow me to demonstrate,” Ricardo said, not taking no for an answer. “You put a nickel-sized amount of the product on your palm and then work it through the tips of your hair with your fingers. Work the hair up and out. There is no need to work it into your scalp.”

The hairdresser took the bottle from Dustin and held out his palm. He squirted a dollop of orange gel in the exact shape and size of a nickel, dropped the bottle back in Dustin’s lap, then rubbed his hands together and began stroking his fingers expertly through Dustin’s hair.

Dustin was still staring at his lap, hardly watching what Ricardo was doing. “I’ve never in my life…” he said, sounding stunned, or at least stubbornly uncomfortable.

“There’s a first time for everything, right, Dustin?” Isobel asked quietly, totally amazed at his transformation. “Take a look at yourself.”

Holding her breath for his response, Isobel turned Dustin’s chair back toward the mirror.

Dustin stared at his reflection, hardly recognizing the man staring back at him. Who was this slick-haired man?

Perhaps he had worn his hair in the same style for a few years longer than he should have. Isobel may have had a point.

Of course, that was her job, wasn’t it? To find the best places to make changes in order to make him a better man?

He still wasn’t completely sold on the idea, but this was one point in her favor.

That said, he wasn’t at all convinced about putting sticky orange gel in his hair every morning. But he had to admit the guy staring back at him in the mirror had his own charm.

Between the haircut and the gel Ricardo had meticulously applied, the hairdresser had done an outstanding job taming the wild curls Dustin had battled all his life. Ricardo had parted his hair just off to the right side of center and combed every strand of hair neatly back into place. Only a few stray curls escaped.

As Isobel had instructed, the hair on his forehead was combed back in the current style. He had to admit it looked good, though he wasn’t at all sure he could duplicate the process when he was alone in his own home.

But in the end, the score was: Isobel one, and Dustin zero.

He stared in the mirror one more second, memorizing every detail.

He looked, well, contemporary.

And though there was no way he would admit it to anyone—especially Isobel, who would no doubt report such findings straight to Addison—Dustin found he rather liked his new look.

Especially with a hat.

“Double or nothing,” he mumbled under his breath with a quick shake of his head.

“What was that?” she queried back, looking wary and more than a little suspicious.

He adjusted his newsboy cap backward on top of his new haircut, winked at Isobel and walked out the door without a word.