Mia had Cyrus sit in the shampoo chair in the next room and took a deep breath.

With a moment to collect herself, she asked, “Do you really want a haircut, or are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Both,” he chuckled playfully. “Is it safe? You won’t slip and cut my jugular, will you?”

“You’re safe. I’ve worked with celebrities before, Fake Cyrus.” She giggled at the absurdity of it all.

“So. Do you believe me now?” He smiled with his deep dimples and bright shining eyes.

He leaned back in the chair, trying to make eye contact, as Mia stopped for a second to smile back...