Mila

Much to her surprise, they reached the salon without any incident.

It seemed as if Pierce had been telling the truth when he gave her the lame line that holding her hand kept him calm.

Either that or he’s been faking it the whole time to use it as an excuse to get to you.

Despite some inner skepticism, Mila was much more inclined to believe Pierce on this. She had seen the transformation, the way his body language reacted when he was in contact with her, versus when he wasn’t. It was immediate and sudden, and unless he was the greatest actor on the planet, it was very real.

True to his word as well, he hadn’t tried to do anything more either, keeping things strictly to hand-holding.

“Now, you know I won’t be able to hold your hand while you’re getting your hair cut, right?’

They were crossing the parking lot, heading for the red sign that indicated the hair salon.

“I know,” he said. “But have you ever known anyone to be anything but relaxed while getting a haircut?”

“Point,” she said, then dipped her head in thanks as he reached out and held the door open for her. “But then again, you also did not want to get it cut. So you could be panicky about losing so much of your hair.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Just how much of my hair are you planning on having them take off?”

Mila smiled sweetly and shrugged. “I’m not the stylist.”

Pierce began to reply, but he was interrupted.

“Mila? Mila is that you?”

“Robyn!” she replied happily, reaching out to hug one of her few friends, and her hair stylist. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You as well my dear. I didn’t know you were coming in for a cut today!”

Mila shook her head, turning to point at Pierce.

Point at him with her hand. The hand that should have been holding onto him.

Pierce was standing there like a statue, looking straight ahead. His arms had flexed and his shoulders were hunched forward slightly. Twin blue eyes were focused on something in the distance she couldn’t see.

Mila almost panicked, but she recovered at the last second and stuck her arm out to rest it on his, making sure she had skin-on-skin contact.

Pierce breathed a sigh of relief and turned a smile on Robyn.

“She’s not,” he said casually, as if nothing had happened. “That would be me, actually. I’m told that I don’t look presentable, and that something must be done about it.”

Robyn looked back and forth between the two of them, and Mila began to worry that her friend might ask what the hell had just happened. But then something else happened.

“Oh,” Robyn said slyly as she flicked her eyes over the pair once more, then to where Mila’s hand was resting on his arm. “I see.”

Dammit.

The last thing Mila needed was Robyn thinking the two of them were together. In the several years she’d been coming here to get her hair done, never once had Mila mentioned a boyfriend. So this was a big deal to Robyn, who had long been pestering her friend to just find a man, any man, to help her relieve some stress.

“Quiet,” Mila said, shaking her head. “He needs a helping hand, as you can see.”

Robyn eyed Pierce up. “Yes, yes he does. And lucky for you, I actually have an open slot. I was going to take an extra break, but I can see why Mila brought you. We’re going to shape you right up,” she promised, taking Pierce by the hand and leading him away.

Mila wanted to follow, but she knew she couldn’t. This was up to Pierce. He had to find a way to combat this on his own. The only saving grace was that as one of the junior stylists, Robyn’s chair was at the very far end of the salon, farthest from the windows and all the activity in the busy parking lot.

Pierce did his best, and she could see him fighting to stay relaxed. As they walked, she saw him manage to calm himself slightly, and as Robyn sat him in the chair, some of the white in his knuckles faded.

Please don’t destroy her chair.

The little thought brought a smile to her face as she trailed after the pair, watching Pierce sit still while Robyn threw a cover over him.

“So, Mila, details,” Robyn said as she began to run a wet comb through Pierce’s hair.

“I’m sorry, what?” Mila asked, taking a seat in the empty stylist’s chair next to Pierce.

Robyn just looked at her and laughed, letting her question fall by the wayside for the moment.

When Robyn moved around the far side, Pierce’s hand poked free of the cover and reached for her. She wrapped a finger around him, and he instantly breathed easier. They wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long though.

Then, to Mila’s surprise, Pierce pulled his hand back. Bracing herself, she awaited his locking up once more.

But it didn’t come. Her eyes trailed to Robyn, who was really working her fingers and the comb through his hair.

Well I’ll be. He wasn’t kidding when he said the hair stylist’s was a relaxing place.

Robyn put the comb away, and reached for something else. With a flick of her thumb she sent power coursing through the pair of clippers, and a medium-strength buzz filled the air.

Pierce’s eyes flew open and he sat up straight. “Clippers?” he stammered.

“Well, yeah,” Robyn said. “How else are we going to get this back to a respectable length?”

“Ummm,” Pierce said, his eyes darting this way and that.

“I told you,” Mila said, reaching forward and laying her hand on his arm, even though it was covered by cloth. “We’re going to freshen you up, make you professional. And less like a street bum.”

“Oh. Yeah. I didn’t think you were serious,” he said, pulling his head away from Robyn’s hand and the clippers it held.

“Pierce,” Mila said firmly. “Sit still, and let the woman work. She’s good at her job. You will look great, trust me.”

His head swiveled to look at her. “You think I’ll look good with short hair?” he asked.

She nodded. “Definitely.”

Pierce considered that.

“Okay, do it,” he said, sitting back and taking a deep breath.

Mila shook her head with mild laughter. There were far more sides to Pierce than she’d expected, and trying to get them all to line up with one another was…interesting. For instance, the man in the chair in front of her who was a nervous wreck simply because he was going to get his hair cut was nothing like the snarling, brutal savage who had nearly choked the life from her when they met in the forest.

Mila unconsciously brushed her fingers across her throat. His attack hadn’t left any visible marks, thankfully, having been too brief. But she felt a little tenderness there every time she swallowed.

That had been done by a very different side of Pierce, almost as diametrically opposed as the Pierce whom she’d lost control with in her kitchen the night before. That Pierce had been strong, confident, tender, and almost exotic in the way he’d pleasured her. He’d seemed to take as much excitement from her pleasure as she had, which had only served to turn Mila on more.

Not that she was ready to admit that to him.

Then there was the angry, stressed, scared, and overwhelmed man who was having a hard time coping with the press of humanity and its artificial constructs, the way they grouped themselves together so closely.

So many different parts to one individual. And yet plusses to each.

The fighter in him would protect her. The lover in him would please her. The fear in him showed her he was real. And the hesitation in him at getting a haircut made him adorable.

Aw hell.

She liked him.

There was no escaping that fact. Especially as she considered that during the entire twenty-minute walk from her house to the salon, not once had Mila felt uncomfortable holding his hand despite her initial thoughts to the contrary. She’d never thought about letting go, and after a few minutes, had completely forgotten that she was holding it because it had felt so natural.

Robyn continued to work while Mila became absorbed in her thoughts. So when Robyn finally spoke up, she almost jumped in surprise.

“What do you think?” she asked, spinning the chair around so that Mila could look at him.

Oh my.

“Wow,” she breathed, looking at the stunning transformation. Where once there had been an attractive but scruffy face, there was now a purposefully sculpted look.

Robyn had trimmed his beard down as well. It was still a week or so worth of growth, but carefully trimmed now to match the short up-do she’d created with his hair.

Mila knew she was staring, but she didn’t care. He looked good.

Pierce opened his eyes at last, and she realized he likely hadn’t seen himself yet either. But now he saw her staring, and much to her embarrassment, he tossed her a wink.

“Do I look better now?” he teased.

She nodded. “Yes. Much.” It was all she could trust herself to say. Then to Robyn, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” the stylist said with a knowing look between the two of them. “Glad to help you out. But my question is, when will I see you next?”

Mila ran a hand through her hair. “Is it getting bad?”

Robyn shrugged. “Not too bad, but I think we have some catching up to do,” she said, choosing that moment to shoo Pierce from her chair, a not so subtle sign as to what she was referencing they catch up on.

“Okay okay. I have a few things going on right now, but I’ll call you when I get them settled. We’ll do lunch, or maybe dinner.”

“Done.”

Mila paid for the work and the pair left the salon, their hands automatically finding each other. Mila didn’t fight it this time. She started to walk to the clothing store in the same parking lot, but Pierce stopped, his hand tugging her to a halt. He was like an unmovable statue. Mila turned to figure out what had caught his eye when she saw the frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, moving closer to him, maintaining her grip.

“You shouldn’t have had to do that,” he rumbled unhappily.

“Do what? Take you to get your hair cut?”

He shook his head. “No, not that. I wasn’t overly keen on the idea, but after looking at myself in the mirror, I can see that you were right.” He shot her a glance. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” she replied with a smile, though it faded quickly. “But tell me, what shouldn’t I have to do?”

He worked his jaw a little before speaking. “Pay.”

Mila arched an eyebrow, taking a half step back to better be able to look him in the eye.

“Pardon?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

Mila waved him off. “It’s nothing.”

But Pierce didn’t seem to see it that way. She could tell it was bothering him.

“Am I not allowed to pay?” she asked finally, feeling her temper ignite a little. She had not worked so hard, and done the things she’d done, to be told she wasn’t allowed to pay for things.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” he said. “But you shouldn’t have to pay for me. You want to buy stuff for yourself, go for it. I don’t like that I’m unable to contribute, and that you are forced to pay.” He finally looked at her. “Who is paying for the clothes you’re now insisting I go get?”

She shrugged. “I suppose I am.”

He shook his head. “Where I come from, that’s not acceptable. I should be paying for myself, and you as well.”

Mila licked her lips and prepared to speak, but he wasn’t done.

“I am vaguely aware that in your society, that is a concept that is going out of fashion, and I hope you aren’t offended. It is in no way meant to slight your ability to earn money and pay for yourself. It’s just…because I want to.”

“Pierce,” Mila said very sternly. “We aren’t dating.”

He flinched.

“Maybe, and I mean maybe in that case, I might let you pay for me. But although we seem to be stuck together for the near future, we’re not—”

Mila never finished her sentence. Pierce tugged on her hand, and Mila fell toward him. His free hand caught her and lifted her up until he could press his mouth to hers.

She was supposed to fight this. To tell him not to. That she wasn’t with him, like she’d just been saying.

But oh it felt so good. His heat warmed her easily, and his lips tasted her thoroughly, with a burning passion that made her lightheaded.

She caught herself, barely stopping herself from whimpering at his touch while in public. Who was this man, and why did he make her so weak in the knees? She was supposed to be strong, tough, and independent! Yet Pierce just waltzed into her life and was now kissing her like she’d never been kissed before.

He set her down at last, breaking apart the kiss, though his eyes still burned with a smoldering flame as they opened slowly to gaze at her.

Mila made up her mind.

“Come back here,” she ordered, reaching up to pull his head back to hers.