“Are you going to cut your hair before the wedding?” I blurt out.
He slides his glasses further up his nose. “Uh…I hadn’t thought about it, but I probably should. I’m sure there’s a barber somewhere in this town.”
“I could do it for you.”
I don’t know what makes me volunteer. I’m not a hair stylist. I’ve trimmed my own hair here and there—my travel schedule making regular appointments difficult at times—but I don’t have any formal training and I’ve never cut a man’s hair.
He cocks his head to the side. “You’d do that?”
This is my chance to walk it back, but I don’t. Instead, I say, “Yeah. We can grab some scissors from the drug store.”
“Sounds good to me.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal at all to have me cut his hair.
I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my mind.
CHAPTER 28
FISHER
After we’veboth showered and changed, we head out to walk around the town. There’s nothing on the itinerary for tonight since it’s arrival day for guests, so we’re on our own for activities.
Our arms brush as we walk, but neither of us makes any move to spread the distance. I itch to reach out and take her hand in mine, but I refrain. I’m trying to keep the ball in her court and let her come to me.
“This town is so cute,” she says softly, giving me an almost shy and hesitant smile.
“Yeah, it really is,” I agree. There’s a fairly strong breeze coming off the water and Ebba shivers. “Here, take this.” I shrug out of my jacket and drape it over her shoulders.
She looks up at me beneath dark lashes. “Don’t you need it?”
I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans. I still wear a long-sleeve shirt so it’s not too bad. “I’m good. Promise.”
“Ooh,” she says suddenly, pointing at a storefront. “I want to go in there.”
I follow her across the street and hold the door open so she can enter first.
She checks out the jewelry display, eyeing up a gold bracelet, before she moves on to checking out a shelf of glass blown animals. Me? I’m content to watch her browse.
We check out a few more stores, including a gallery, one that carries your stereotypical tourist merchandise, and a thrift store.
“I’m starving,” she says as we start our trek back to the inn. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.” I adjust the baseball cap I put on before we left, flipping it around backwards. Ebba lets out a sound I can’t decipher. “Are you okay?” I ask, worry leeching into my voice.
“I’m fine.” She scrolls on her phone, presumably looking for a place to eat. “I just … the … hat thing,” she mutters.
I stop walking and when she realizes I’ve frozen she stops too. “Hat thing?” I ask, cocking my head to the side and fuck it if I’m grinning like an idiot. “You like it when I have it backwards?”
She immediately drops her gaze from mine. “No.”
Wrapping my fingers around her elbow, I give a gentle tug. “You little liar.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she grumbles, pulling out of my hold and starting back down the street.
“Too late, wife,” I tease.
She glances back over her shoulder. “No nicknames either.”
“You didn’t feel anything when I called you wife?” I joke.