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Archer pulled her back into his arms, hugging her fiercely. “For me, too. Even having the freedom to make friends as I wish, I haven’t made many good ones. No one really gets me—no one but you.”
Genevieve grinned, forcing the stress out of her mind. “What is this hair?” She reached up and touched a lock of sea green mixed with teal. “Is this some kind of aqua ocean theme? Are you going merman on me?”
He chuckled. “I changed it last week. Too many years of dying it black. I’m kind of sick of the full goth look. I want some color in my life.”
“Well,”—Genevieve plopped down in his salon chair—“I’m in need of the opposite. I need less color in my life. Do you have an appointment coming up, or are you free?”
Archer pulled a slow smile. “I’ll make myself free. Maybelle,” he yelled across the salon, “can you cover my ten o’clock?”
“Sure,” the woman chirped in a lively tone. “Take the day off if you want. More tips for me. I can double up, no problem.”
Genevieve brought her fist to her mouth, covering a huge yawn. Roman had driven straight through, making only gas stops as promised. They'd arrived at The Outlaw in the wee hours of the morning, beating Jed's required time by twelve hours. She'd napped in the car, but barely enough to get through the day.
Archer rubbed a long lock of her fire-red highlights between his fingers. “What is this?” He tsk-tsked. “I’m not digging it.”
“I needed to draw attention to my hair and away from my face.”
He fanned out his hand. “Well, it doesn’t work.”
She giggled softly. “I agree. Can you get me back to normal?”
“You mean champagne blonde? Of course. You look amazing with?—”
“No, no.” Genevieve caught Archer’s gaze through the mirror. “My natural hair color—I want it pure golden brown for the first time since I started working here. Ain’t no way I’m going to give Marshal the satisfaction of thinking I’m ever going to be the compliant green Genevieve that used to give in to his every command. I’m not that woman anymore.”
Archer leaned over her head and braced his chin on top of her hair, holding her eyes through the mirror. “You go, girl! You do you, and don’t let anyone tell you different.”
“That’s right.” Genevieve smirked, taking a deep breath of pungent salon air. “No more giving in.”
“And I’ll quite enjoy your attempts not to, my dove.”
A startled gasp hissed between her lips. Archer’s crystal blue eyes popped wide open, and he quickly backed away. How had she not seen Jed through the mirror? He moved like a dangerous jungle cat.
Jed winked at her, strolling up to her chair. He kissed her temple and hovered his lips over her ear. “You not giving in to my every command sounds sexy as hell.” After a long pause, he bit her lower lobe. “Say anything you like, but do so knowing that I’m listening. I hear and see everything you do.” He skimmed his lips up the side of her face and pressed another kiss in the hollow of her eye before righting himself and adjusting his cuff links. “I’ll fetch you later tonight for dinner, dove. I’ve got some clients I need to see to, so go about as you please until then.”
She raised her chin. “And what if I were to say no to your commanding dinner request?”
Jed smiled like he’d been given the best gift of his life. “Then I will quite enjoy making you say yes.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek down to her mouth, plucking her plush lower lip before walking out of the salon with Luke, Roman, and Ace on his heels.
Archer stood frozen in place with his mouth dangling open. He snapped his jaw shut and shook his head. “Damn, I see what you’re up against.”
Genevieve tucked her shaky hands under her armpits. “I’m so glad he left you alone. Especially after you said, ‘Don’t let anyone tell you different.’ Even though you were just supporting me, it was still an act of defiance. Once I realized he was there, I thought he’d toss you out on the pavement.”
Archer let out a disbelieving snort. “I know—me too. I thought I was fired for sure or worse. Almost wet my pants. Marshal’s never set foot in here before.”
“Yeah, that’s because I was compliant before. He could always count on me to be where I said I would be. Now he’s keeping tabs on everything I do.” Genevieve slowly released the air from her lungs. “Let’s talk about anything else. I don’t want to risk Marshal distancing you from me.” She studied Archer through the mirror while he parted the tip of his comb through her hair, separating the strands and pinning them this way and that. “How do you get away with looking like a Waterworld rock star when the theme of this place is the Wild West? I always wondered that.”
Archer laughed. “My boss has never said a thing to me about it. I think it’d be pretty hokey if all the employees wore boots, spurs, and shirts with fringes and tassels. Though I do believe the traditional saloon and some restaurants have an employee dress code, don’t they? You probably know more about that than me.”
“The brochures we created featured employees in western wear, but I didn’t pay much attention to what they actually wore in the themed restaurants and businesses. My dates with Marshal were usually in formal settings in some eye-catching dress, and for work, I wore a colorful blouse and slacks.”
“I remember.” He nodded. “You look hot in business clothes. Sophisticated.”
“Thanks,” she beamed, so glad to be in the comfort of an ally. “Same thing I wore working for Mr. King…I mean, never mind.”
Archer raised a brow. “Who’s Mr. King?” He chuckled. “What a name. Will I be meeting Mr. King?”
“No, Jed would kill him.”
