“Being at my beck and call.” Shit. Dare hated to admit it, but yeah, the women had a point.
“Arizona told me that she heard them arguing.”
Both men groaned. Arizona was a walking tornado of trouble. Thank God Spencer had a knack for keeping her happy.
Priss said, “She overheard—”
“Meaning she eavesdropped,” Trace countered.
“—Chris and Matt talking, and it was clear enough to her. She said she told them both they were idiots, because she figures if we’re here, Chris can have someone here, too.”
“Of course,” Trace and Dare said together.
“But have you ever told Chris that?” Molly asked.
“He’s not an idiot, honey.” Dare smoothed her hair. “As Arizona said, significant others are welcome.”
“Very welcome,” Trace teased.
Molly nodded. “But we’re women.”
Both men smiled.
Priss shoved Trace again. “And while Matt is g*y, he’s still a guy. And you two definitely treat guys differently.”
“As more of a threat,” Molly said.
Shit. Right again. Dare ran a hand over his head. “You know, it could be that Chris really isn’t interested.”
“Why would he be,” Priss said, “when Matt thinks he’s an errand boy?”
Dare eyed Molly. “You expect me to fix this?”
“Yes, please.”
He looked at Trace. “I suppose we could pay Matt a visit.”
That made Trace grin, and the look was evil. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
This time Priss didn’t shove him. She hugged him tight. “Thank you. But Trace, be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
And even Dare had to laugh at that.
CHAPTER FOUR
Matt finished a masterpiece—ombré highlights that glistened on the sleek hair of his thirty-three-year-old client. She looked amazing, and given her gratitude, she knew it was thanks to his magic.
After tipping him outrageously, she hugged him tightly and went off to set her follow-up appointment.
Matt turned to head back to his station and tripped over his own feet at the sight of Dare and Trace casually striding through his double front doors. The sensual menace of the men almost caused his heart to pop out of his chest.
Seven stylists worked for Matt. Each of them had a client in his or her chair. Two women worked the desk. A young man collected towels. A manicurist worked on an older woman, and a pedicurist had just walked a regular out. Five patrons filled the plush seats of the waiting room.
They all gaped in fascinated awe. And why not? Dare and Trace packed a visceral punch of massive proportions.
Dare led the way, looking around with casual insouciance. When he pulled off his dark sunglasses, Matt heard a collective inhalation.
Trace wore that same stony look he always had in Matt’s presence, but he moved through the elite and stylish salon as if he owned it.
They either didn’t notice, or more likely didn’t care, that the gaze of every occupant had locked on them the second they appeared. No one moved.
Dare walked right up to Matt. “Nice place.”
An invisible fist squeezed his windpipe, but Matt managed to strangle out, “Thanks.”
Trace flattened him with a look. “Got a private room somewhere so we can talk?”
“I…ah…”
The two receptionists suddenly appeared, all atwitter, doling out rapid-fire questions to gain attention.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“May I see you to a seat?”
“We have cola or lemon water or coffee.”
“If you want to leave me your name, I can—”
Belatedly, Matt took control. “They’re here to see me.” He shooed the disappointed women away, then gestured toward his office at the back of the building. “This way.”
Dare bared his teeth in a look that might have been a smile, but Matt just wasn’t sure. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Oh, great. He got one foot in front of the other, but it was like trying to walk calmly ahead of a stalking lion. All around him he felt the avid stares, the heated curiosity of workers and patrons.
Damn it. He put his head up and forced more confidence into his gait. When he reached the office, he pushed the door open and stepped aside.
Eyeing the cream-colored walls, the dark hardwood floor, the sleek furniture, Dare went in first. “You have good taste.”
Trace followed, looked around, and nodded. “High end. I like it.”
Their approval shouldn’t matter, but Matt felt his ears going hot anyway. “Thank you.” A new worry suddenly hit him, and he closed the door. “Is Chris…?”
“He’s fine.”
“Oh.” So then what did they want? “Good.” He escaped to the other side of his desk and took his seat. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
Unfortunately, they got comfortable by looming over him. Granted, they stood on the other side of the desk, but they didn’t sit, and they were both tall and…imposing.
Dare said, “You care about Chris.”
Good Lord. Surely that didn’t make him a security threat. “I…yes.”
“How much?” Trace wanted to know.
Matt frowned. Intimidating as they might be, his relationship with Chris was private. “Does Chris know you’re here?”
“No.” Dare propped a hip on the edge of his desk. “But I don’t keep secrets from him, so I’ll tell him.”