Long Hair Don't Care

by Maggie Dallen

  He was at work, but he’d taken the time to write back.

  I bit my lower lip. He was at work. And he had to have been late, thanks to me. I knew for a fact he was because I’d asked Flynn what time his shift had started when I’d first arrived. One thing was clear—Roman had definitely been late to work tonight.

  Because he’d waited. For me.

  I still couldn’t quite get over that fact. Who waited for a near stranger like that?

  Nobody. Or at least, nobody had ever done something like that for me before. Not that I’d ever ask. But he’d done it without me having to ask.

  It wasn’t like he’d owed me any favors. All I’d done was yell at the guy for being a hottie and a flirt. He couldn’t really help the first part, and I wasn’t entirely sure he could help the second either. The more time I spent with him, the more I was convinced it was just part of his nature.

  I tapped my phone against my chin as I surveyed the room. All under control now that the cupcakes had been handed out.

  That would all change, of course, the moment the sugar hit their little bloodstreams.

  I caught Savannah’s eyes, and she arched her brows. I held up my phone and mimed that I was slipping out to make a call. She gave me a nod, and I wasted no time heading out to the hallway and searching for the number for the restaurant where he worked.

  Someone answered, but it wasn’t Roman. “Is there a manager available, please?” I asked.

  I took a deep breath as the person answering put me on hold.

  I wasn’t sure how much it would help. But it was the very least I could do.

  Six

  Roman

  * * *

  I was halfway to the back door when my uncle’s voice stopped me. “Not so fast, Roman.”

  I froze, a groan slipping out as I shut my eyes. So close. I’d been so close to making my escape.

  I’d been so close to seeing Willow.

  But I turned around to face my uncle, who I could hear heading in my direction.

  “Good luck, man,” Gabriel said. He was one of the guys who worked the kitchen with me. A good guy, but a guy whose butt I was going to kick if he kept smirking at me with such glee.

  Granted, I’d do the same if he was about to have his ass handed to him by my uncle, but still. His grin was irritating.

  “My office,” my uncle snapped.

  I followed dutifully to the tiny room off the kitchen that was overflowing with invoices and bills, along with crates of catering equipment and surplus supplies. I didn’t take a seat. Hopefully if I just nodded and agreed with whatever he said, I’d be out of here in time to make it to Willow’s before everyone left for the night.

  If that last party at her place was anything to go by, this group didn’t exactly stay up till all hours. And everything in me wanted to get there. To be there already.

  To be with her.

  The thought knocked the wind out of me, but I was through trying to deny it. I was also done trying to figure out why exactly I was drawn to her and what it meant.

  I shoved my hand into my pocket and gripped my phone like it was a freakin’ security blanket in the face of my uncle’s irritation.

  She’d texted. Willow invited me to her house. That was all I wanted to focus on while my uncle gave me hell for being late today.

  I should have known he wouldn’t forget. They’d already been busy when I’d shown up, so he’d shot me a glare and let it slide. But only a fool would think Uncle Albert would forget.

  “You were late,” he said as he slid into his seat behind the desk.

  He looked like everything I was not. Short to my tall, round to my lean, pale to my dark, and all the smarts and sense of responsibility that definitely weren’t in my genetic makeup.

  I’d gotten my dad’s looks...and his attitude, apparently. My mom and her family might hate my father, but they all agreed he had charisma. And his talent.

  See, he hadn’t just left us. He’d left us to play music.

  Looks and talent? All in all, I couldn’t complain. I mean, I wasn’t about to send him a father’s day card anytime soon, but I was definitely grateful for the music and the girls.

  With that thought came a flash of one girl in particular. One gorgeous, long-haired angel who’d given me hell for flirting with her friend.

  Do better. Be better.

  The memory had a smile tugging at my lips even as my lungs grew too tight to breathe easily.

  My uncle’s voice was a low growl in the background as I focused on the phone in my hand, the party to come, and the girl I was about to see.

  My uncle wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t heard a million times before—bad work ethic, no ambition, yadda yadda yadda.

  “Well?” he finally said.

  I’d zoned out so thoroughly that his question caught me off guard. “Sorry, what did you say?”

  My uncle huffed, but his exasperation was tempered with affection. “What am I going to do with you?”

  I grinned. “Train me to be the best chef in all of New York?”

  It was an age-old joke, and it made him chuckle. “Won’t that interfere with your plans to be a big rock star?”

  I shrugged. I didn’t bother to explain that I had no such ambitions. He wasn’t wrong about me being ambitionless, I guess. Or maybe I just hadn’t been hit with whatever bug it was that compelled my dad to pursue the limelight. I just liked to play music. It was the one and only thing I was good at—aside from handling my liquor and hitting on girls. But I wasn’t holding out hope that it would be my career.

  See? Like he and my mom always said—no drive. I was okay with that. I liked working at the restaurant. I preferred being in the kitchen, but I didn’t even mind the catering part. I liked what I had going on, so long as I got to play music in my free time.

  My uncle waited for me to speak, but I kept silent. Arguing or justifying my actions only ever made these sort of lectures drag on.

  He picked up a black notebook that always sat beside the phone and tapped the edge of it against the desk. “Don’t you have some excuse for why you were late?” He arched his brows. “Most of the guys would hit me with an excuse right about now. Something about a dog dying or an old auntie in need of a lift.”

  Would it matter? He wouldn’t believe me anyway. I met his gaze evenly. “No excuses.”

  “Hmph.” And then he said what he always said. “Taking advantage of the fact that you’re blood, huh?”

  I shrugged, still smiling. It was an old refrain. Me, the ungrateful nephew. Him, the begrudgingly indulgent uncle.

  We all had our roles to play in this family, and I knew mine.

  “So no excuses,” he said again.

  “Nope.” I was already backing up toward the door. The end was in sight.

  He gave a grunt of amusement. “Funny, your girlfriend made a pretty good case on your behalf.”

  His words stopped me in my tracks. I literally had one hand outstretched toward the doorknob and paused with it dangling in midair, my jaw doing the same.

  His low laugh was one hundred percent at my expense, and I didn’t care. “My girlfriend?”

  His laugh grew louder. “Oh, that’s what had you looking shell shocked, huh? Relax, kid. She didn’t say she was your girlfriend. Said her name was Willow. I just assumed any girl who’d go to all that trouble to get you off the hook was someone special.” He arched his brows. “Am I wrong?”

  I shrugged. I wasn’t about to say yes, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to say no either. “She’s a friend.”

  “And what do you suppose she told me?” he asked.

  I couldn’t say. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she’d called here. For me. To help save my butt from getting into more trouble. I gave my head a shake because my uncle was narrowing his eyes, and there was a suspicion there that made my gut twist.

  I didn’t care that he didn’t believe me, but I hated the idea that he’d doubt Willow’s word.
r />   “Willow told you the truth,” I said. I didn’t even have to know what she’d said to know that much. I wasn’t sure Willow was capable of telling lies. My mind flashed back to the way she’d deftly avoided answering any questions. Evading the truth, maybe. But she wouldn’t tell lies.

  Uncle Albert folded his arms over his wide chest. “Then what did she say?”

  He wanted to compare stories. Suddenly I was a suspect in an interrogation, and my uncle was here to check my alibi.

  I took a deep breath and let it out through puffed cheeks. “That she’d had an appointment at the hospital. She’d needed a ride. I waited for her to be done.” I shrugged as his crossed arms fell and the suspicion turned to shock.

  “You waited for her at the hospital, and you gave her a ride to work,” he confirmed.

  “That’s what I said. So?” There was a distinctive defensiveness to my tone, but I didn’t really care. It was one thing to always expect the worst. It was something else all together that he couldn’t bring himself to believe I’d done something decent even when it was laid out for him by Willow herself.

  He picked up the notebook again and went back to tapping it on the desk. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

  I glanced away with a loud exhale. “Would you have believed me?”

  “Probably not.”

  I shrugged to say there’s your answer, and by the time I turned back, I had that devil-may-care grin back in place. That was what my mom always called it. Devil-may-care. Right before she’d sneer and say I’d gotten it from my father.

  Uncle Albert called it my Cheshire Cat smile, and he eyed it now with a considering look. “Look, kid, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

  I arched a brow when he hesitated. Uncle Albert was not one to hesitate.

  “How serious are you about being a musician?” he asked.

  I blinked a few times because—this was the first time anyone had point blank asked me. Normally they just assumed it was all I cared about.

  “I enjoy playing with my band,” I said slowly. “I’m proud of the progress we’re making…”

  I waited for him to exhale in disgust and cut me off, but he waited for me to continue.

  “I love playing guitar. It’s basically the only thing I do well,” I said. I added a rueful laugh like I always did when we talked about me and my guitar.

  “So you want to pursue music then?” he asked.

  No judgment. Not a lot, at least. And then he leaned forward like he’d honestly listen to my answer.

  “Not as a career,” I said. “No.”

  He nodded. “You gave up on that idea then, did you?”

  If there was some bitterness in my smile, it couldn’t be helped. “It was never my idea. You and Mom got that into your heads because you’re so certain I’m gonna turn out just like my dad.”

  The words settled between us and made the small office feel tiny. My uncle’s stare was heavy and more serious than I’d ever seen it.

  “Hmmph,” he said when his scrutiny was done. Then he sat back in his seat like something had been decided. “Okay then.”

  I arched my brows. “Okay then,” I repeated.

  I started to move, assuming that was my okay to leave, but he stopped me once more. “You ever give any thought to having a future here?”

  I glanced around pointedly. “Here? Like at the restaurant?”

  He dipped his chin in a slow nod. “I’ve got ideas for expanding,” he said slowly. His tone was serious, no joking, no teasing.

  “Yeah?” I straightened, my gut tightening, because this might possibly be the first time in my life he was talking to me like an equal. Like a grown up and not his slacker teenage nephew.

  He nodded, crossing his arms again as he considered me. “I’m gonna need more help around here, someone I can trust.”

  My chest expanded like a rubber band had just snapped off. For the first time in my entire life, I actually had a glimpse of a future that didn’t look like a dead end. “Yeah?” I said again. Even I could hear the eagerness there, which should have been a little embarrassing, but I didn’t really care.

  My uncle’s lips twitched upward, but he squelched the smile before it could spread. “There are conditions, though.”

  I nodded, my heart was picking up its pace. “Sure.”

  “College.”

  I winced as that single word slammed into me like a punch in the gut. College was about as likely for me as winning the lottery. Not only were my grades...let’s just say sub-par, but I hadn’t even bothered to take the SATs.

  My uncle seemed to be following my thoughts because he nodded. “The local community college might take you...if you can get a decent score on the SATs.”

  “Isn’t it too late for that—”

  “No. It’s not too late.” He tapped the desk again. “It’s never too late.”

  I wasn’t sure about that, but his confidence brooked no arguments.

  “So what do you say?” he said.

  I had no idea what to say, but I was nodding before he’d even finished his question. “Yes,” I said.

  His eyes lit with something alarmingly close to pride and that made my chest swell some more as my stomach took a dive toward the floor. Could I do this?

  Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  “You’ll have to work hard.” He was eyeing me, like he was waiting for me to protest.

  “I can do that,” I said. Hard work had never scared me. That’s what I liked about being in the kitchen. I was good with my hands, and not just with the guitar.

  “You’ll have to get good test scores.” He arched his brows.

  I couldn’t give a quick response to that one because we both knew that was the challenge for me.

  “You might need to find someone to help you,” he said, his expression growing wary. “Most kids prepare for these tests while still in school, so you’ll have to—”

  “I got it covered,” I said.

  He arched his brows at my sudden grin.

  I owe you one, that’s what she’d said right? And if that meant I got to spend some more time with her—some time one on one? All the better.

  I headed toward the door. “I know just the person who can help me out.”

  Seven

  Willow

  * * *

  Isla was making me and Savannah laugh with her impersonation of old Mrs. Barons when I heard Callie’s exclamation.

  “Roman’s here?” Callie’s voice carried from the living room, and the mention of Roman’s name had me straightening as if I’d suddenly been zapped by lightning.

  He was here? I’d started to think he wasn’t coming. I’d spent the past hour telling myself it was fine if he didn’t show. It didn’t mean anything. He probably had other parties to go to, or maybe he was just tired after working all evening. And then there was the fact that I shouldn’t have invited him in the first place. It had been a whim.

  I didn’t do whims.

  But now… I held my breath as Callie appeared in the kitchen doorway. Now he was here.

  “What’s Roman doing here?” Her gaze moved to Savannah. “You two aren’t…” Her brow furrowed with suspicion as her voice trailed off.

  Savannah rolled her eyes. “Please. How many times do I have to tell you he’s not my type.”

  “Who is your type?” Isla shot back. “Have you ever dated anyone?”

  “She’s holding out for a prince,” Callie said with a laugh. “Too bad William and Harry are taken, huh, Savannah?”

  Savannah rolled her eyes again, but I was barely paying attention. I was too busy trying to figure out why my stomach was churning. I eyed the chips I’d set out on the kitchen table. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten so many.

  Yes. That was it. It was the chips. Not the fact that Roman supposedly had a thing for Savannah. How could I have forgotten that? Wasn’t that exactly what Callie had been stressing about for the past few months? I’d heard her say
countless times how much it sucked that Roman noticed Savannah but not her.

  But I guess I’d forgotten. To be fair, it hadn’t really mattered to me all that much. But now…

  Now it still didn’t matter. It had been crazy to invite him in the first place.

  “Right, Willow?” Callie said, interrupting my thoughts.

  I blinked and cleared my throat. I had no idea what she’d just asked, but more importantly, I was desperately in need of an out.

  “I need to go…” I started. My friends all stared at me. I headed around Isla toward the back door. “I’m just going to make sure the music isn’t too loud for the neighbors.”

  “I can barely hear it and I’m in the house,” Savannah said.

  But I was already heading out the back door that led to our deck. The fresh air helped my head to clear and the churning in my stomach to ease.

  I was an idiot to have forgotten that Roman had a thing for Savannah. Or at least, that was what Callie believed. And he probably did. Why wouldn’t he? She was hot, there was no doubt about it. Beautiful and confident, and she had a certain sassy charm that guys seemed to love.

  I gripped the banister of the porch.

  So of course Roman liked her. Why wouldn’t he?

  Better question, what did I care if he did?

  I didn’t.

  My hands gripped the railing harder. So hard it hurt my knuckles. I didn’t care. I went to shove all thoughts of Roman and Savannah into that part of my brain where I tuck these things away. My therapist called it compartmentalizing. Apparently I was a pro. But this time, it wasn’t working. The emotions lingered, and I couldn't shove them out of sight no matter how much I tried.

  I shouldn’t have invited him. Not when he made my already out-of-whack emotions go even further into the red zone.

  I should never have sent that text. I shouldn’t have—

  “I was hoping I’d find you out here.” Roman’s voice behind me had me spinning around.

  There he was, in all his glory. Hands in pockets, leaning against the doorframe, he looked like he belonged on a movie set or something. There was that ever present little smile like the whole world existed for his amusement. And the sight of that smile aimed at me left me breathless.