An amused Jake bent over and helped me retrieve what he could, meeting my gaze as our fingers touched when he passed me a pair of scissors.
Suddenly, I was annoyed at the way my heart seemed to be bleeding in front of him, and he was as cool as a cucumber.
I concentrated on the knot in the strings of the apron.
“I thought you said you were going to hurry,” he remarked, watching me.
“I’m trying to untangle your apron.”
“I don’t want it.”
I looked at him. “Why?”
“It itches my neck.”
“The hair will go down your shirt.”
Before I knew what he was about, Jake leaned forward, his hands at the base of his shirt. I watched helplessly in both horror and delight as he peeled his shirt off his body and leaned back.
Very shirtless.
It was then that we felt the first few drops of rain.
“Maybe you should…wear the shirt at least,” I said, trying to keep my eyes on his hair and not trailing downward.
“This again, Tuck?” His voice was lit with challenge and lined with amusement.
I only scowled.
“Does it bother you?” he asked, goading me.
Physically? Not one bit. Emotionally? Very much so.
“Yeah. It does,” I declared to his growing smile.
“Well, maybe you should go put something on over that dress, then.” I met his eyes briefly before flicking them away, the warm teasing in his gaze turning my heart into mush.
“I just think it’s funny that, after all our lessons, you still don’t know what this is.” Jake leaned back in his chair, arms folded, and stared up at me in amusement.
Stared up at me like I should know something obvious.
In an instant, Jake had turned the tables so effortlessly. I didn’t know what this was exactly. I wondered. I hoped. I fretted. But Jake hadn’t told me anything, even while he seemed to think I should know.
But until I knew whatthiswas, indifference became my shield. I lifted my chin and shrugged.
“I’m fine,” I said, attempting a teasing tone but falling flat. “I cut hair on half-naked men all the time.”
His eyebrows raised delightedly. “Really?”
“Yup,” I lied.
We stood at a standstill, our eyes waging a battle as we each contemplated our next move.
I swallowed as I watched a trail of tiny raindrops slide across his cheek.
I replaced the apron in my hands with scissors. His seat on the chair left me much more eye level than I was comfortable with. I filled my fingers with his wayward locks at the pretenseof measuring. It was coarse to the touch, but still soft somehow. I was reminded of our first lesson.
I drew in a breath through my nose, gathering courage before I trailed my fingers lightly along his shoulders as I moved behind him, feeling satisfied at his stiffening back.