Ridley didn’t see anyone who might be Cole Livingston. He’d called the morning before to book an appointment, expecting a fairly long wait given how popular Cole was reported to be, but the stylist had a cancellation and had gotten him in late the next day. Luckily, Ridley had some comp time coming to him and was able to square it away with his supervisor. He’d taken off after lunch, going home to change out of his scrubs and into normal — if uninspiring — clothes.
Eileen spotted him and smiled wide, leaving her station to approach the front counter. “You must be Ridley. You’re here to see Cole, yes?”
“Yes,” he said. “You’re Eileen, right? I work with Ian and Callum at the hospital.”
“I am,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand. “Cole is in the back, but he should be out in just a minute. He’s one of our best stylists, so you’ll be in good hands.”
Ridley smiled nervously. “Good to know.”
“Oh, there he is,” she said. “I’ll leave you to it.”
She walked away, but Ridley hardly noticed. His gaze zeroed in on the man who’d just stepped through a doorway at the back of the salon. His hair was platinum blond, cut short on the sides, but long enough on top to flop forward over his forehead above blue eyes. Ridley had seen blue eyes before, but never so vivid. Cole’s eyelashes were thick and dark — naturally or through the use of makeup — and the contrast brought out the color in his eyes to the point it was noticeable all the way across the salon.
Cole was unlike anyone Ridley had seen in person. He could be stepping off the pages of a magazine, only this man wasn’t airbrushed. He existed in the real world, breathing the same air as regular people like Ridley.
Teal pants that looked more like tights wrapped Cole’s long legs, making it too easy to picture his lean form without anything at all. A thin, silvery gray shirt clung to his torso. On his feet, looking a little incongruous, were flip-flops, and oh God, toenails painted blue.
“Hi, you must be my new guy,” Cole said with a wide smile. Then, his eyes following Ridley’s gaze to his feet, he added, “I’m on my feet all day. The flip-flops are more comfortable than the heeled boots I usually wear.”
To his embarrassment, Ridley realized he’d been caught staring. To make matters worse, words fell out of his mouth without his consent. “I like your nail polish,” he heard himself say.
Cole wiggled his toes. “Yeah? I really should touch them up, but I’ve been too lazy!”
He jerked his eyes up to Cole’s face to find those intensely blue eyes inches from his own. Too close for comfort. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight, and Cole turned. “My station is this way. Why don’t you take a seat, and we’ll talk about what you’d like?”
Ridley would like not to be there at all. He’d like Jace to turn to him and say, “Ridley, why the hell haven’t we gotten together? We’re perfect together.” He’d like Jace to want him as he was, geeky old Ridley who liked building expansion Lego creations even though he was twenty-six, who got more excited over Godzilla remakes and corny science fiction films than new movies, and who spent more time in online forums than he did talking to actual, real-live humans in his spare time. Oh yeah, and who came with a slightly less geeky but definitely awkward twin sister who got up in his business more than was comfortable.
That wasn’t happening, so he sat down in the salon chair and watched his reflection in the mirror as Cole ran fingers through his dark hair.
“So, what are we thinking?” Cole asked as he continued to finger-comb through Ridley’s hair, sending tingles across his scalp. “Just a trim? A whole new look? Just a cut, or some color too?”
“A new look.”
Cole lifted his eyes from Ridley’s hair, studying his face in the mirror thoughtfully. “You have your heart set on something in particular?”
Ridley shook his head.
“Hmm. No pictures of celebrities you want me to replicate?”
“No. Is that bad?”
Cole’s lips quirked up. “No,” he murmured. “You just made my day.”
“Really?”
The smile widened. “This means I get to play.” He paused. “Assuming you trust my judgment and don’t want to look through a book of models to pick out a hairstyle you like.”
Ridley looked at the model-worthy man. “Yeah, I trust you. But … I should maybe tell you that I’m, um, kind of trying to reinvent myself. So, don’t try to do something that fits with this look,” he said, gesturing to his blue jeans and faded T-shirt. “If you can even call this a look.”
Cole chuckled, gaze skimming over Ridley’s casual dress. “Okay, got it. You’re not afraid of something entirely new.”
He hummed under his breath, and those fingers went back to sifting through Ridley’s hair.
“Okay, let’s get to work then. I want to do some color—”
At Ridley’s wide eyes, he reassured him, “Just some highlights to bring out the natural red and caramel tones in your hair.”
“My hair is brown.”
“Mostly, but I bet when you spend a lot of the time in the sun, you see sections that lighten up a bit, right?”
“I guess,” Ridley said. “I don’t get out enough.”
“None of us do,” Cole said lightly. “Anyway, the color will be subtle and natural. Not like this,” he said, fingering his own white-blond hair. “By adding more color, it will give your hair a richness and depth that it’s lacking now.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Cole tapped his shoulder. “Good enough. I’ve got to go mix the color. I’ll be right back.”
Ridley watched Cole walk across the salon, stopping to exchange a couple of words with a woman about his mother’s age seated under a heat lamp, her head full of foils. Oh geez, was he going to end up like that before he left here? He eyed the door, then flicked a glance over to Eileen. She gave him an encouraging smile. Shit. He couldn’t just walk out on her, not when he knew her brother. But Cole was too much: too gorgeous, too intimidating. Ridley didn’t know if he was more afraid of Cole trying to turn him into a poster boy for hair fashion, or if he was worried that he wouldn’t look any different when he left.
Cole returned with two pots of dye and foils. Yep, Ridley was going to look like some nice lady getting her hair done. He took a deep breath and blew out his cheeks.
“Relax,” Cole said. “Plenty of guys get their hair colored.”
Ridley nearly choked on his spit. “How did you …”
“It’s all in the eyes,” Cole teased. “You look like a deer about to bolt.”
“A buck, you mean,” Ridley said darkly.
Cole grinned. “At least I didn’t call you a doe, but with those big, brown eyes …”
Ridley watched Cole in the mirror as he turned his focus to the brush in his hand and began painting the ends of Ridley’s hair. The chemicals felt cold when they touched his scalp, but Cole’s hands were sure, never faltering as he separated out sections, painted Ridley’s hair, and folded foil over it. He alternated between two brushes — one for each color, Ridley assumed — but he couldn’t fathom how Cole knew where to apply each or how it’d look when it was done.
“So, tell me more about this new you,” Cole said as he worked. “Why the new look?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ridley asked.
Cole cocked his head, staring at Ridley’s reflection. “No, sweetie. It’s not.”
Ridley didn’t like the look on Cole’s face, like Ridley was a cute little puppy in need of cuddles. Someone like Cole would never understand what it was to be average. He’d never know what it was like to pine for his best friend, knowing he’d never quite measure up.
Maybe the makeover was a mistake. Who was he kidding?
“Hey,” Cole said, intruding on his pity party, “where’d you go? I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sure you have your reasons.”
Cole had lifted his hands away, so Ridley shifted forward to pull his phone from h
is back pocket. He pulled up a picture of Jace and Ronnie. Jace was extending his tongue, licking her cheek, and her face was screwed up in disgust. Ridley held up the screen for Cole to see.
“Cute couple.”
Ridley pointed. “They’re not a couple. This is my sister.”
“Ah yes, I see the resemblance,” Cole said. “She’s got Bambi eyes too.”
Ridley ignored the comment on his eyes. The second one. It didn’t seem possible Cole actually liked his eyes. Not his boring mud brown. Cole was probably trying to bolster Ridley’s low self-esteem after his little poor me moment.
He moved his finger to Jace’s face on the screen. “This is my best friend, Jace. He’s gay.” Ridley cleared his throat. “Like me.”
Cole looked at the screen for a long moment. “The new look’s for him,” he guessed.
“Well, not like he knows about it. I just want him to see me, you know?”
Cole nodded. “We’ve all been there.”
Ridley doubted that, but he decided not to argue. Cole was just trying to be nice.
Cole busied his hands, folding the last two pieces of foil. “Okay, let’s get you into the hot seat,” he joked. “The sooner you’re done, the sooner we can make Jace drool over you.”
Ridley laughed as he pushed himself out of the chair. “It’s a long shot.”
“Are you doubting my skills?” Cole asked as he directed Ridley into a seat in a row of plastic chairs positioned under heat blowers. “Because Evelyn has been coming to me for years. I make her beautiful, don’t I?”
Evelyn shifted, her eyes on Ridley incredibly earnest. “Oh, Cole is the best. You came to the right place!”
“Speaking of, let’s go unwrap you, Evie, and get you styled while Ridley enjoys some time to himself.” Cole waved to the magazines at a table in front of him. “Read a magazine, or your phone. Whatever. Do you want me to grab you a drink?”
“No, thanks,” Ridley said. He was too nervous to drink. Anytime he got anxious, food and drink were the first things to go. He’d rather just lose himself in some mindless Internet surfing.
“Okay, I’ll be back for you soon,” Cole said with a warm smile as he turned to help Evelyn up. He really was gorgeous, but more surprisingly, he seemed genuinely nice.
5
Cole finished with Evelyn, responding to her on autopilot. After years in a customer service job, he could make small talk in his sleep. His mind was mostly preoccupied with his other client. While blowing out Evelyn’s curls, he positioned himself to check on Ridley.
He sat hunched over his phone, one leg bobbing up and down impatiently. Like a lot of guys, he wasn’t dressed to impress. Not like Cole. But then Ridley wasn’t in the business of convincing people he could transform them into something playful or provocative. Cole had his share of clients who wanted nothing more than a trim or standard cut, but he had a lot of female clients who came to him because of how he dressed, how he styled his hair. As a gay man in a conservative town, he had to make the most of those clients, because he sure as hell wasn’t getting any straight guys in his chair.
Ridley might have fooled him if he hadn’t told Cole. He had a low-key vibe. His brown hair was thick and soft, and Cole could admit he’d enjoyed running his fingers through it. It was one of his favorite parts of the job. When he rinsed out Ridley’s hair, he’d give him a scalp massage and listen to him purr in response.
Cole’s pulse quickened at the thought, and he scolded himself as he cut off the hair dryer and set it aside to grab a firm hold spritz he used on Evelyn’s hair. Ridley was in this salon because he was in love with his friend. It was silly for Cole to think of him as anything but a client. But Ridley was cute. He had an open and friendly face with lovely full lips and expressive eyes. He couldn’t even say why he loved those eyes so much. Brown wasn’t exotic by any stretch, but they conveyed so much emotion and warmth that Cole found himself staring into them more than was probably wise.
Ridley’s shoulders were broad, even if they weren’t burly, and he was tall and lean. Cole bet his dick was just as—
Stop it, idiot.
Stupid as it was to fantasize about a client, Ridley had sure driven Travis out of his mind, and Cole couldn’t be sad about that.
“There you go, Evie. You’re going to blow your husband away. He’s going to think it’s your fifth anniversary instead of your twenty-fifth.”
Evelyn giggled girlishly, lifting hands to rosy cheeks. It was adorable the way she blushed at compliments. “Thank you, Cole. You’re a godsend.”
He walked her to the front, where she paid him in cash with a healthy tip and practically skipped her way out.
Checking the clock, he saw that Ridley was nearly ready to be set free, so he decided to sneak in a quick bathroom break. When he came out, Anita was standing there, one eyebrow hitched up.
“What?”
“You. Me. El Toro.”
“Erm…”
Anita jabbed a pointy fingernail into his chest. “No excuses. You need to purge that asshole from your system with tequila.”
“I’m not sure it works that way.”
Anita smirked. “We’ll go after work.”
Cole knew better than to fight her when she got bossy. Besides, Ridley was waiting, and Cole wouldn’t risk that boy’s hair by fighting a losing battle.
He nodded. “Yes, your majesty. I serve at your pleasure.”
“And don’t forget it,” she called after him as he returned to the salon floor.
Ridley’s eyes fixed on him as soon as he stepped through the doorway, and he smiled to reassure him. Ridley transmitted his unease just as clearly as he’d shown his unhappiness earlier when talking about his need for a new look.
Cole crossed to him and lifted the blower. “Time to rinse. Come over to the sink with me.”
Ridley sat down in the seat, leaning back into the sink. This was like a trust exercise. It always took Cole a few minutes to get his clients — at least the less frequent ones — to ease down far enough in the seat and get their neck into the cradle of the sink. He leaned over Ridley to unwrap the foils.
He was oddly aware of Ridley’s breath against his chest as he worked. He’d never thought of how intimate this process was. Usually, he was focused enough that he didn’t consider how much he touched his clients. Plus, most of them were women. No sexual thoughts in that direction for Cole. Not ever, much to his parents’ disappointment.
Ridley made a pained sound as a foil caught and tugged at his hair.
“Sorry,” Cole murmured, disentangling a few strands of hair and smoothing them back.
“It’s okay,” Ridley mumbled beneath him.
Cole turned on the water, running his hand under it to check the temperature, then moved the spray nozzle over Ridley’s hair. “Let me know if it’s too hot.”
He worked the spray over Ridley’s hair, using his fingers to comb apart layers and get all of his hair wet. He worked shampoo and then conditioner through Ridley’s hair, getting a sigh of pleasure for his efforts.
“Feels good, huh?”
“Sorry.”
Ridley sounded embarrassed. Cole hadn’t intended to put him on the spot.
“Everyone likes it,” he said, as he worked his fingers deeper into Ridley’s scalp. “The scalp massage is half the fun when going to the salon.”
“What’s the other half?”
Cole laughed at his tone. “Your stylist’s sparkling wit?”
He finished rinsing and squeezed the excess moisture from Ridley’s hair. Easing him up, Cole wrapped a towel around his head.
“Let’s go figure out the new you.”
Ridley followed Cole, feeling a little bad about grumbling about this process when Cole had been super nice. He seemed a lot less flighty than Ridley would have expected. He supposed that he’d judged Cole on his looks, thinking he’d be snobby or flaky when in fact, he’d been really friendly. Of course, this was Cole’s job, and Ridley was paying him. He p
robably shouldn’t read too much into Cole’s warm manner.
Once he was seated again, Cole dried his hair a little better, then draped a robe over him. “Okay, now it’s time to get to the fun part,” he said with a wink.
Ridley chewed his lip nervously. He had no idea what he should do.
“I know you want a new you, but I don’t want to go too crazy,” Cole said. “The highlights are going to do a lot for you. Your hair is really thick with a bit of wave, and that’s nice, but you’ve gone a little too far into the shaggy zone.”
Ridley huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I got lazy.”
“I’d like to work in some layers and give you a messy look.”
Ridley squinted, trying to work that out. “You just said I was too shaggy.”
Cole grinned. “Well, there’s stylish mess and then there’s just mess, you know what I mean?”
“I guess?”
Cole laughed, his voice a lovely tenor. The warm, friendly notes washed over Ridley, easing some of his anxiety.
“Never mind. I trust you,” Ridley said. “It doesn’t sound like you’re going to shave my head or give me a hairstyle like yours. So go ahead.”
Cold gasped, lifting a hand to his heart. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Nothing!” Ridley said quickly, embarrassed by sticking his foot in his mouth. “I meant that I could never pull that off, whatever it is.”
Cole smiled. “It’s just a fade with fringe,” he said. “Sometimes I style it into a faux hawk.”
“You do not.”
“I do,” Cole said with a laugh. “But mostly only when I’m dressed to match.”
Operation Makeover Page 3
