It's About Time (Hunt Family #5) Read Online Free PDF

this who's supposed to be doing my haircut?" Evan asked, directing his question toward Amanda and looking disheartened.
    I could tell he was joking, but a worried look crossed her face as she regarded at him. "M-M-Mia said you would be fine with whoever had a cancellation…" she started to explain, but I cut her off.
    "Is this who's supposed to be my client?" I asked, pretending to be disgusted at the thought of it.
    Amanda glanced at me with wide eyes that told me she had no idea we were joking.
    I groaned and let my shoulders slump. "Just go ahead and follow me back, I guess," I said in a frustrated tone as I gestured aggressively for Evan to follow me.
    Evan smiled and walked toward me instantly, and I glanced at Amanda with a wink. She smiled as if she finally seemed to understand that we were joking around.
    I waited for him to catch up with me before walking him back to my station.
    "You look fancy," he said, making me giggle a little.
    "It's my all-black uniform," I said. "It's slightly fancier than my biscuit-covered uniform."
    "Mia didn't tell me it was gonna be you cutting my hair," he said, following me to my station.
    "Is that all right?" I asked as we both came to stand near my chair.
    He smiled at me. "I think it's amazing," he said.
    I patted the back of the chair since I was too shaken up to respond to his comment. "Have a seat, and we'll talk about what we're doing before we shampoo you."
    "I get a hair wash?" he asked, running a hand through his long hair as he sat down.
    I stood behind him and we regarded each other through our reflections in the mirror. He had on jeans and a windbreaker with a hood, and I reached out to touch it and give it a shake. "This will definitely be in the way," I said. "You'll have to take your jacket off."
    He smiled as he unzipped and shrugged out of his jacket. He was wearing a threadbare Rolling Stones T-shirt underneath, and I smiled at the sight of it as I took his jacket and placed it on one of the hooks on the side of my station. I came to stand behind him again, and pretending that he was just a normal guy, I ran my fingers through his hair, testing its texture and movability.
    For the next three minutes, I went into stylist mode, asking him all sorts of questions about what he wanted so that I could make sure we were on the same page. It was a straightforward trim with some long layers—nothing I could mess up, even on my worst day as a stylist.
    I put a cape on Evan and brought him to the shampoo bowl just like I did with all my other clients. I wet his hair and turned off the water before pumping the appropriate amount of shampoo into my hands and massaging it into his hair. I begged myself inwardly to treat it like it was clinical, but my fingers betrayed me. They didn't see Evan as a normal client—they saw him as someone they enjoyed touching.
    All scalps were different. Everybody had a different feel to their head. Some scalps were loose and squishy with barely any hair, and some were tight and hard with tons of coarse hair—there were tons of different combinations. Everyone's scalp had it's own "feel" and my fingers had decided for themselves that Evan's was the best. That thought made me close my eyes for a second as I massaged in the shampoo.
    "What's the matter?" he asked.
    "Nothing, why?" I asked, opening my eyes.
    "You were squeezing your eyes shut," he said.
    "I was?" I asked, laughing it off. "You don't seem like you're limping anymore," I said, changing the subject.
    "I'm getting there," he said. "My physical therapist says I should get back to a hundred percent if I keep working on it."
    "That's awesome," I said.
    "Yeah, they tell me I'm a real miracle."
    I turned on the water and used the nozzle to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. "Can you just come to L.A. with me and be my personal hair-washer, please?" he asked, closing his eyes.
    "If I had a dollar for every client who tried to hire me as their personal hair-washer, I'd be rich."
    "Yeah, you