As soon as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, he automatically repositioned himself so he was walking closer to the curb. The sign of a true gentleman, Isobel thought. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

Dustin kept his hands in his pockets and whistled as he walked, glancing at her from time to time and genuinely smiling, although a bit as if he had a secret he wasn’t yet ready to share with her. He seemed in no hurry, but rather content just to walk slowly and casually, as if they were old friends.

And he was certainly taking this well, having to make sudden changes in his life dictated by another person he had only just met and had no reason yet to trust.

If she were in his position, she knew she would be balking and pulling at the reins at such outrageous and uncomfortable demands.

Then again, maybe he didn’t really know what he was getting himself into.

Yet.

She stopped and gestured at a shop door. “We’re here.”

Dustin glanced up at the sign and froze.

“No way,” he said, his voice low and guttural. “No possible way.”

“Now, Dustin, be reasonable,” she pleaded, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder, hoping he would take the hint and look at her.

He did.

And when their eyes met, Isobel felt exactly what he was feeling—the shock, the panic, the desire to run.

Truth told, she felt like running, herself, and pulling him along. But that wasn’t what she was here to do, and Dustin had to start somewhere. Here was as good a spot as any.

She would not back down, no matter how his bright green puppy-dog eyes implored her to do so.

“It’s not as bad as all that,” she assured him, not certain how committed she sounded.

He shook his head. “Says you.”

“Trust me?” she urged.

His gaze asked, Why should I? His jaw was clenched, but he stepped forward and opened the door for her. “After you.”

She grinned in triumph, her heart pumping at the battle of wills she had just fought and won. This was a big victory for her—her first—and would no doubt be one of her best. It would pave the way for other small successes and triumphs.

The end result, of course, would be a final product of which she could be proud—and more importantly, of which Dustin could be proud.

“Ricardo, please meet my friend, Dustin,” Isobel said as her regular hairdresser rushed forward and kissed both her hands.

Ricardo was unique and not a little odd with his spiked purple hair and dozens of gold necklaces that encompassed his broad, hairy chest, not to mention his bombastic personality and shrill voice.

His personality and flashy looks took some getting used to, but when it came to hair, Ricardo was the best in the industry.

Dustin, his eyebrows raised and his expression one of pure panic, was halfway out the door before Isobel caught him by the elbow.

“No way,” he whispered in her ear. “Look at that guy’s hair. I’m not letting him anywhere near me with a pair of scissors. He obviously has no clue what he’s doing.”

She laughed. “Hairdressers don’t do their own hair,” she said, nudging him back into the room. “Haven’t you ever heard the elementary-school logic problem about the small town with only two barbers?”

He looked at her as if she’d gone mad. She smothered a smile.

“Obviously not.” She burst into laughter at the horrified, stubborn look on his face. He was adorable when he was being mulish.

With a flourish of her arms, she continued with her story. “So, then. There were only two barbers in this small town. One of the barbers had a neat trim, and the other’s hair was chopped at odd edges. Now think about it, Dustin. Which of these two barbers would you rather go to?”

Delighted, she was aware of how his eyes immediately began to sparkle with understanding and his amused gaze turned on her.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve never heard that one before, and I’ll admit you have a valid point. But then again, I have no reason to trust Ricardo, despite your clever stories.” He winked at her. “I haven’t seen the other barber, so to speak,” he reminded her, his voice grave but his eyes alight with humor.

“Oh, yes, you have,” she countered, grinning back at him. She ran her fingers through the thick lengths of her long, chocolate-brown hair, circling the ends with her fingers. “You’re looking at her.”