The Summer Proposal by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

Once again, his thoughtfulness softened me. “Thank you. I think I’m going with the deep tissue massage. How about you?”

“That’s what I already picked.”

The young woman returned. “Your therapists will be right out.”

“Thank you.”

“By the way…” I tilted my head and lowered my voice. “You said she wasn’t your type. What is your usual type?”

Max shrugged. “Not sure I have a usual type. But I can tell you what I really like in a woman.”

“Okay…”

He leaned forward and hooked a big hand around my neck, pulling me to meet his lips. “You. You’re what I really like in a woman.”

Good answer.

“Mr. Yearwood? Ms. Delaney?” the woman from the desk called. Another woman stood beside her wearing all white. “This is Cynthia. I’m sorry—I didn’t ask if either of you had a preference for a male or a female therapist. We have both available.”

Max shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t care.”

“Me neither.”

Just then, a guy walked out from the back—a very good-looking one. He was a different kind of handsome than Max, but nonetheless gorgeous in his own right. Tall, lean but muscular, clean cut—he sort of reminded me of a younger version of Gabriel. “This is Marcus,” the receptionist said. “He’ll be your other massage therapist today.”

Marcus slipped his hands into his pockets and bounced back and forth on his heels. “Which one of you is my victim?” He smiled, and dimples popped out.

They weren’t Max level, but still adorable.

Max frowned. He glanced over at me and quickly raised his hand. “Me. I’m your victim.”

“Right this way,” Marcus said. “Cynthia and I will show you to the locker rooms.”

As we followed, I leaned over to Max and whispered with a grin, “What if I wanted Marcus?”

“No shot, sweetheart.”

I raised a brow. “Who’s jealous now?”

“Me. But at least I’ll admit it. If I don’t have my hands all over that body, that dude definitely isn’t going to either.” He leaned down as we arrived at the locker rooms and brushed his lips with mine. “Enjoy your massage. You have another treatment after this. I’ll find you when you’re done.”

“Okay.”



• • •



“You guys work really late,” I said to Kara, the stylist. After my amazing massage, I took a shower in the locker room and was shown into the salon, which was now completely empty except for the two of us.

“We actually closed about twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that. Cynthia just brought me in after we were done.” I started to get up, but Kara put her hand on my shoulder.

“Your boyfriend made special arrangements for me to stay late.” She smiled at me in the mirror. “Don’t give it any thought. He made it very worth my while. Plus, I think we close too early. People don’t even go out until eleven in the city. If we were open later, we might get a younger crowd like you. We tend to get an older clientele.”

“Well, thank you for staying.”

She played with my hair as she stood behind me in the chair. “So, how red are we going?”

“Red? I thought I was just here for a blowout.”

The woman’s brows furrowed. “I’m a colorist. You were booked for color and a blowout. The notes said you wanted to go red. Did they get that wrong?”

“No.” I shook my head. “No, they didn’t. That sounds like something Max would do.”

“Did you not want to get color?”

“I do want to try red. I just didn’t realize it was going to be today. I mentioned that I’ve always wanted to go red to the person who made the appointment.”

She tossed my hair around some more. “I think you’d look great with red. What were you thinking? Like a Lindsay Lohan, Nicole Kidman, or like an Amy Adams with some golden-blond hues?”

“I actually have a picture on my phone. Let me see if I can find it.” It took me a few minutes to locate the photo because it was so old. I looked at the date at the top before holding the phone up to her. “God, I took this photo more than three years ago. I guess I’ve been meaning to do it for longer than I thought.”

“Sometimes it takes a while to pull the trigger on a big change like this.” She pointed to the phone. “But this is exactly the color I would have recommended for you with your skin tone. A deep auburn. It’ll look gorgeous with your green eyes—very natural.”

Kara looked at me. She must’ve read the nerves on my face.

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we do a semi-permanent color? I won’t use any ammonia, so the color won’t penetrate your hair shaft. It’ll give you a chance to see if you like it without having to go through the pain of trying to recreate your natural color if you don’t. It’ll wash out within four to six weeks. If you really hate it, I can give you the names of some heavy-duty shampoos that can get it out quicker with extra washes over the next few days.”

I nodded. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”

“Okay.” She smiled. “I’m just going to dry you quick, and then I’ll go whip up some potion, and we can get started.”