Lachlan held up a hand. “Wait a minute.”
“Leave a little scruff,” I said.
“Jolie will be in shortly to handle that, as well as brows.” Blaire moved in uncomfortably close to Lachlan, a woman inspecting a wonder of science. “My goodness, the brows are like two sheep in need of shearing, like bloated woolly worms, like two overgrown shrubs fighting on your face. Like a pair of—”
“Maybe we could just go ahead and get started?” I suggested.
Lachlan checked out his face in a nearby mirror. “I do get tokeepmy eyebrows, right?”
Blaire shrugged. “Some.”
“Like, at least my left one?”
I bit back a smile and gave Lachlan a look of warning.Do not bait the nice stylist.
Blaire regarded Lachlan’s clothes with the same level of rejection shown to the eyebrows. “Are his clothes staying?”
“My preference is not to be naked for this,” Lachlan said.
Good Lord. If that didn’t flash an image right to my frontal cortex.
“I mean, surely you’re getting him a new wardrobe, right?” Blaire asked me. “Who will notice this man’s hair if he’s wearing an Atari t-shirt and his dad’s cargo pants?”
“We ordered a full wardrobe from Paolo’s,” I explained. “Lachlan’s been fully outfitted.”
That seemed to appease Blaire, as she waved a hand toward her station. “Then let’s move on to the next phase of Eliza Doolittle’s makeover.”
“You’re in good hands,” I told Lachlan. This was my cue to leave, yet I continued to stand. Why was I lingering?
He frowned. “You aren’t staying for the appointment?”
“Can’t.” Lachlan was headed to Los Angeles in a few hours, and for some reason I wanted to say more than just a curt goodbye—but I certainly wouldn’t. That was silly. It wasn’t like I’d miss him or anything. Nope. Not at all. “I have things to do,’ I said. “I trust Blaire and her team implicitly.”
“But I don’t.” Lachlan glanced back at a woman sporting a mohawk and pulling blades from a case. “These people are armed. They’re dangerous. Look at all the stabby things and flammables in this room. I need someone kind and gentle to stay by my side.” He reached for my hand and reeled me into him. “But I’d even settle for you.”
I patted his chest, nice chest that it was, and bid him adieu. “Goodbye, Lachlan.”
“Wait.” Lachlan’s warm fingers gently encircled my wrist. “So I guess I’ll see you Monday night. What will you ever do without me?”
“I’ll have Rosie’s party this weekend.” Four days without him. I did not like how this thought was deflating my caffeine buzz? “I’ll also use that time to go through your drawers and computer files.”
His thumb passed across my wrist, sending tingles of awareness up my arm. “Make sure you open the file titled ‘My Wife Cries for Me in Her Sleep.’”
“I’ll delete it.”
“Don’t do that.” Another sweep of his thumb.
“Sending it right to the digital trash can.”
Lachlan smiled then, a slight curve of the lips beneath all that facial hair. “Tell Rosie congratulations.” Bending, Lachlan leaned toward me and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my cheek. “Don’t miss me too much, wife.”
Minutes later, I shut myself in my car and took my first deep breath since leaving the house this morning.
Lachlan was trouble.
Charming, charismatic, and dare I say it—fun—trouble.
But trouble wasn’t part of my life plan.
