The Bride Test(35)

No kissing. No touching.

Nonetheless, the pads of her fingertips itched to stroke his lightly stubbled jaw and the strong cords of his neck. What would it feel like to run her fingers through his hair? The strands were thicker and darker than her own, and some of the uneven locks fell beneath his jaw. She stopped herself before she touched the ends.

“You need a haircut.”

He sent her a wry look. “I know.”

“I can do it. I know how. I used to cut hair for my cousins. I’m good at it,” she said, but then she held her breath. Was getting his hair cut at home too unclassy for him? Maybe she shouldn’t have offered.

He paused in the hallway and considered her. “You’d cut my hair for me?”

“Of course.”

“You have to do it a certain way.”

“Show me a picture. If I see it, I can do it.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he carried her into her room instead. After setting her on the couch, he asked, “Will you cut my hair tomorrow morning? Please?”

She bit her lip, but that couldn’t stop the wide smile from spreading across her face. “I’m happy to do it.”

He nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

“How do you like it? Do you have a picture?”

He swiped a hand through his hair. “I’ll leave the style up to you. I just want it shorter.”

“I can pick?”

“Yeah, sure.” He smiled lightly as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled aimlessly through the room, stopping by the desk. A thoughtful look crossed his face, and he picked up something from the desk’s surface. The photograph of her dad. “Who are these people?”

She focused on her injured ankle and wiggled her toes a few times. “My mom and dad.”

His eyebrows arched as he glanced her way. “He went to Berkeley.”

She took a breath and released it. “I think so, but I’m not sure. I’ve never met him before.”

“Oh.” Kh?i flipped the picture around to inspect the back, but she knew there wasn’t anything written there.

“Do you think if we go there, they can help me find him?”

“To Berkeley?” he asked.

She nodded.

He shrugged. “It’s possible.”

Hope bloomed in her chest. “Can we go … tomorrow? After the haircut?”

He hesitated a second before he said, “Yeah, okay. We can go.”

She jumped to her feet, so happy she wanted to hug him, but she squeezed her hands into fists instead and grinned. “Thank you, Anh Kh?i.”

An awkward smile touched his mouth. “Yeah, sure.” He walked toward the bathroom that connected their rooms but paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Remember to take the binding off when you shower. I’ll wrap it again when you’re ready to sleep.”

“Okay.”

When he left, she took a moment to admire her ankle binding. It had been perfectly done, not too tight, not too loose, with evenly spaced loops. So this was what it was like when Kh?i took care of someone.

A daydream of him taking care of Jade ran through her mind. If he wanted to, he could be so great with her little girl.

But Esme had no confidence that was in the cards. This didn’t mean anything. She shouldn’t let it go to her head. He was just a good person. She’d been working on it, but she was still … herself. Surprisingly, experience from her previous life as M? was going to be useful tomorrow.

She got her phone out and searched through photographs of movie stars and musicians until images of beautiful men were stuck to the backs of her eyelids. Tomorrow, she was going to give Kh?i the best haircut of his life.





CHAPTER TWELVE



The next morning, Esme had everything ready. A chair was set up in the middle of the kitchen, sharp scissors lay on the counter, and the broom and dustpan were ready for cleanup afterward. The only thing missing was Kh?i. She clasped her hands together and took several breaths. There was no need to be nervous. She’d given lots of haircuts. She was going to do a good job.

But what if he didn’t like it? What if he got mad because she’d “ruined” his hair?

The shower turned off, and shortly after that, Kh?i walked into the kitchen, wearing black shorts and a black T-shirt with I love taxes in white lettering. The sleeves were tight around the hard muscles of his upper arms, and she made herself look at his hair before she got completely distracted. Fresh from the shower, it was the ideal dampness for a haircut.

He considered her feet. “Does it hurt to stand? We can do this another time.”

She smiled. He didn’t seem to notice hurt feelings so much, but a hurt ankle got his attention. “No, it’s much better. Here.” She clasped the back of the chair. “Anh Kh?i, sit down.”

He obeyed and clasped his knees, ready.

Acting like a professional, which she wasn’t, she picked up the scissors, but Kh?i said, “I need you to do this a certain way.”

“You want to see the hairstyle I picked for you? I can show you—”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I trust your taste. Maybe …” He ran his hands up and down his thighs a few times. Was he nervous? “Maybe put the scissors down for now.”