The brush slipped from Hailey’s grasp and clattered against the tile floor with a clank, clank, skitter, clank.
“Are you all right, dear? You seem a little nervous.”
Hailey got a new brush from her station drawer. “I’m fine.” She so wasn’t.
“You have a little girl, don’t you?” Ms. Francine’s voice was so sweet it could make most people believe she was an innocent little old lady who baked cookies for the local firefighters instead of issuing catcalls.
Hailey knew better.
Every week, when her mom called her to catch up on everything Red River’ish, Ms. Francine and her sister, Clydelle, were always part of the highlights. More alarming to Hailey than anything was that both of the old women had superpowers when it came to town gossip and knowing everyone’s secrets.
The identity of Mel’s father was something Hailey had never lied about. She simply chose never to reveal his name. To anyone. And she’d stayed away from Red River because…because…
Dylan emerged from the back of the shop, whistling the same…melody.
Her heart stuttered.
“The problem must be over here.” He strolled toward the hanging plastic sheets that blocked the construction area. “I’m just gonna poke around.”
Oh, dear Lord.
His poking around had gotten her into trouble once. That had been an entirely different kind of poking, but still, she couldn’t let it happen again. Not on her very first day at work in her new shop. Not after uprooting her daughter, herself, and her career only to let the wonderfully comfortable world she was trying to build for herself and Mel unravel so fast.
Over some damn malfunctioning water pipes.
“How about I make today’s appointment complimentary?” Hailey fluffed Ms. Francine’s hair and spritzed it with hairspray, hurrying to get her out of the shop as quickly as possible.
“Nonsense.” Ms. Francine reached into her purse.
Hailey snapped off the smock and lowered the chair. “I insist.” The last thing she needed was for Ms. Francine to mention Melody in front of—
“I think I found the culprit,” Dylan said, his head appearing between two hanging plastic sheets.
“Go on, dear.” Ms. Francine shooed Hailey with one hand. “I can wait.” She examined her freshly coiffed hair in the mirror. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
Hailey let her eyes slide shut for a beat. Ms. Francine staying right there was precisely what Hailey was afraid of.
* * *
Dylan held the plastic sheeting to one side, waiting for Hailey to join him so he could show her the cause of Cotton Eyed Joe’s water problem. The clock was ticking, and he needed to get the H2O turned back on so he could open for business.
She wadded the purple cape she’d just taken off Ms. Francine and tossed it into a bin before walking toward him.
So, Hailey wasn’t married.
Selfishly, that fact chased away some of the nerves that had caused him to babble like an idiot when he first walked into the shop and realized she was back in Red River.
As she grazed past him, he caught himself breathing in her scent. Fresh and feminine like the spring flowers that were starting to sprout outside in the slowly warming late spring temperatures. Pure like the air on a clear day in the Southern Rockies. Soft like the morning dew that blankets the hillsides outside of Red River’s city limits.
Jesus. That was the kind of talk that had always lit his dad’s short fuse and sparked a string of colorful language, which had usually ended with name calling. None of the names had been flattering, especially when directed at a teenage boy.
Dylan had learned to keep those thoughts to himself and give them a voice through music instead of speaking them out loud. Now wasn’t the time to open his big mouth with flowing, poetic words. She might slap him after the way he’d left things hanging between them years ago.
Of course, he’d prefer she kiss him instead.
He drew in another deep breath. Get. Your shit. Together. There was no way a girl like Hailey Hicks—who’d seemed to know what she’d wanted out of life since she was a teenager—would give a guy like Dylan a second chance. Not after he’d screwed up his first chance so royally.
“Follow me.” He led her through a doorway that was framed with studs but no sheetrock. “Seems this office space taps into a reserve water heater it shares with Cotton Eyed Joe’s.” He walked into the small alcove, barely wide enough to open the small closet door that housed the tank.
“Is that a normal way to design plumbing?” Hailey asked.
He shook his head. “Kind of rigged, but Uncle Joe and the previous owner of this space were both…frugal.” That was putting it mildly. “So they likely never had it fixed correctly.” Dylan pointed to the blue valve in the back right corner. Pipes snaked from it, splitting into opposite directions.
The large tank cast a shadow over the network of pipes, so Hailey leaned toward him and craned her neck to get a better look. Her shoulder pressed into his chest.
Blood pumped hot through his veins.
What the hell?
Sure, he often met attractive women who turned his head. How could he not in the bar and restaurant business where people from all over town, all over the state, all over the country, came to unwind? And he had been a member of a famous band that had girls lining up to get various parts of their anatomy signed by the band members. Talk about a hefty dose of reality for a small town guy like Dylan who wasn’t interested in the whole rockstar man-whore scene. None of the girls had ever made his pulse race the way Hailey had just managed.
Especially not while discussing a water heater.
Still, he couldn’t force himself to step out of the alcove so she could have more space. He liked the warmth that spread through his chest from her standing so close. “Looks like your contractor turned off the valve. Do you know why?”
She frowned. “I don’t, but I’m sure Brianna knows. I’ll have to call her at home.” Hailey retrieved a cell phone from the pocket of her black apron and tapped the screen. As she held it to her ear, she shrugged playfully. “One of the perks of having a business partner is one can take time off when they need a break and the other can cover.” Then she gave him a smile that matched her flippant shrug.
It was cute as hell.
Whoa.
There were two problems with that thought. One, dudes didn’t use the word cute. And two, dudes didn’t use the word cute.
Under any circumstances.
Unless they were infatuated with a girl. Which he certainly wasn’t. He had to keep his head on straight now that he was on the brink of finally taking over Joe’s. No distractions. No mistakes.
A woman would complicate his life and get in the way of his objective. Running Joe’s on his own would take up every minute of his time, and then some. He wouldn’t ask a woman to take a back seat to his career. Especially not a woman who he’d already ditched once to run off—like the stupid kid he’d been—and pursue a pipe dream.
They both stood in the confined space while she explained the situation to her cousin. Hailey listened, then held the phone away from her ear.
“Brianna doesn’t know either.”
“Can we get your contractor over here?” he asked.
Hailey repeated his question into the phone, listened, then hung up and dropped the phone back into her pocket. “She said he contacted her this morning and was called away to an emergency job, but she’ll try to get in touch with him.”
Joe’s had to have working water.
Dylan scratched his temple. “Mind if I open the valve and try to find the problem myself? I really need to get the water working again.”
Her gaze lifted to meet his. “You’re familiar with plumbing?” For the briefest of moments, her tone went silky and something clouded over her beautiful eyes.
The small space around them seemed to shrink even more. He shifted, his chest brushing against hers. “I’m pretty familiar wi
th your plumbing.” No earthly idea what possessed him to say something like that to a woman he hadn’t seen in years. “If you’ll let me, I can have it humming to life in no time.” Apparently, that’s how his mouth rolled.
A soft breath slipped through her parted lips.
He couldn’t stop himself. He really fucking couldn’t. He braced a hand over the doorframe just above her head. He held up his other hand and waggled all five fingers. “I’m a musician, so my fingers are extremely nimble. I might even be able to have it working as though it had never been shut off at all.”
That time, she sucked in a deep breath that wasn’t so soft.
Her phone blared to life, and she jumped. Scrambled out of the closet doorway and had the cell out and answered at lightning speed. “Hello?”
But she hadn’t answered quite fast enough. Not before Dylan heard enough of the ringtone to know that Hailey must’ve spent as long trying to forget him as he’d spent trying to forget her. And it was likely they’d both failed.
The tune her phone had belted out before she’d rushed to silence it was a song he’d written. The best one on an entire album of hit songs from the band he’d once been part of and toured with. The band that had pushed him out and stolen his work to claim as their own. Sure, his picture was on the cover. His name was listed as a band member. But the songwriter listed on every song wasn’t Dylan McCoy.
He’d written that song, though. Written it right after he’d left Hailey and joined the band in L.A. Missing Her had hit number one on the charts, and the album went platinum.
The familiar sting of betrayal spiked in his chest.
He had missed her so much once he’d left Red River and realized Los Angeles was a lonely, superficial place. He’d used those emotions, tapped into the sorrow of leaving her so soon after they’d gotten together, and churned out the best work he’d ever written.
“I see,” she said into the phone. “No, don’t worry about coming in, Brianna. I’ve got this.” When Hailey hung up, hot pink brightened her cheeks, and she couldn’t look him in the eye. “The contractor said he can’t get here until tomorrow.” She didn’t miss a beat. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
The confidence that had caught his attention years ago was etched all over her beautiful face. Obvious in the fearless set of her shoulders. Apparent in her determined tone.
Dylan felt a song coming on as his nerve endings tingled with creative energy.
“I’m going to call a plumber instead of waiting on the contractor.” She tapped the screen of her phone.
Things moved slowly in a small town. Hailey obviously had a different way of doing things after living in a big city for so long. Thank God, because Dylan couldn’t wait around for their contractor to decide to show up for work again.
“I just need to search for one in the area who is available now,” she said, tapping on the screen. “I haven’t lived here in…” Her finger stopped scrolling down the screen. “…in a long time.” The muscles in her slender neck moved as she swallowed. Then she refocused on her phone.
“In the meantime,” against his better judgment, Dylan reached for the blue knob because he was that desperate, “let me see if I can fix it myself.”
The second he opened the valve, the sound of gushing water filtered in from the front of the shop. He shut it off, and they both ran for the front.
Hailey skidded to a stop the moment she stepped out of the hall.
Dylan bumped into her from behind.
Both of her hands closed around her head. “Oh, my God. It’s my first day of work, and I’ve ruined the salon.”
Oh. Shit. Dylan took in the flooded area. To calm her down, he tapped a boot against the floor. “It’s cement, so the water won’t hurt it, and the leak is only on the construction side of your shop.” Great for her business.
Awful for his.
Looked like he’d have to rescind his offer to send Uncle Joe home. Someone had to hold down the fort while he worked on getting the water running again. “I guess I’m your new plumber. At least until we figure out how to get my water working without flooding your salon.”
Dylan had no choice. She really did need help with her plumbing, and he was just the guy to help her out with that.
Chapter Three
Three hours, five clients, and at least a half dozen SOS calls to find their damn contractor or a plumber so Dylan would leave, and Hailey was getting frustrated.
This could not be happening on her first day.
This was her space, and Dylan was invading it. His constant presence while he worked on the leaky pipe had thrown her off her A-Game all morning. Having to rely on a man, especially this man, was the reason for her distraction, definitely not because of his exotic dark Spanish complexion. Absolutely not because of his dangerous, black pirate eyes.
Nope, none of those things bothered her.
She simply didn’t like a man taking charge in her life. That, and the fact she’d had to sidestep a lot of questions because—per Hailey’s request—Brianna hadn’t told a single client Hailey was the new stylist starting to work that day. With Dylan within hearing distance, the questions had her discombobulated.
Two clients had complained that Hailey cut off too much length. Another had wanted more trimmed off, and yet another preferred blonde highlights to the copper color Hailey had used.
At least she’d finally been able to convince Ms. Francine to leave, even if the old lady stopped in twice more to see if Dylan had let his jeans droop in the back like a real plumber so she could have a peek.
Oy vey.
Hailey ran a credit card payment for her last morning client, waited for them to leave, then turned on a heel to go find the object of her frustration. When she shoved the plastic sheeting aside and stepped into the construction site, Dylan was bent over, working on the pipe with a wrench.
Damn, but those jeans cupped and hugged in all the right places.
Hailey caught herself ogling. Ogling was out of the question. Especially when the oglee was the person she wanted to leave her salon.
She averted her eyes. “How’s it going?”
Dylan kept working the wrench. “It’s more of a mess than I expected. To tell you the truth, I’m in over my head. We need a real plumber.”
He shifted, his shirt hiking up to reveal the hint of a tattoo on his side just above the waist. Two staffs dotted with musical notes twisted up toward his ribcage and disappeared under the shirt.
She angled her head to one side.
Then caught herself and cleared her throat. “Brianna’s been on the phone all morning trying to find someone, but Red River is growing so fast that every contractor, house painter, plumber, and electrician in town is spread thin.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” he said, his head still down. “At least Ms. Francine finally left.” He shook his head. “If she’d asked to watch me work one more time, I swear I would’ve lost my shit.”
Hailey leaned against one of the weight-bearing beams that separated the salon from the new construction area. “I told her I’d have to charge admission if she wanted to watch the show.”
He shivered dramatically. “Thanks for getting rid of her for me.”
Hailey blinked innocently. “Oh, that didn’t get rid of her. She offered to pay double.”
“I see you’re still a smart ass,” he said without looking up from his work.
Which was one of the things he’d found most attractive about her six years ago.
“Takes one to know one,” Hailey said.
He straightened and lifted a shoulder in a guilty as charged gesture. “Then how’d you get her to leave?”
Hailey shrugged. “Told her the firefighters were thinking of washing the engine today because the weather is finally warm enough.”
Their gazes locked. Then both of them broke into laughter.
So not good.
“Thanks for having my back,” he said with a chuckle.
His dimple
s glared at her. Chipped away at her resolve. Turned her insides to mush.
Nu-uh.
Not happening. Not again.
“Don’t thank me,” said Hailey. “She’ll be back once she figures out the firefighters aren’t going to make an outdoor appearance. What’s one more groupie, anyway? I’m sure you’re used to groupies of all ages.”
His dimples disappeared, and his eyes clouded. “That was another life.” The lightness in his tone turned to a hard edge. “I’ve capped the leak temporarily so we can turn the water back on at Joe’s. It’s a weekday, so we’re not missing out on a ton of business, but we still need to open.”
“Sorry this is disrupting your workday.” She really was sorry. It was screwing with hers, too, and they’d both be better off if the problems with the salon’s remodel were solved and they could both go back to running their businesses. Separately.
“These buildings are so old, there’s no way to tell what problems are beneath the surface until that surface is actually torn away.” He upended a bottle of water. The plastic crinkled, and the muscles in his throat ebbed and flowed as he chugged.
The tip of her tongue darted out to trace her bottom lip. Then she snapped her mouth closed.
He wiped his lips with the back of one sleeve. “And since most of the buildings along Main Street share adjoining walls, things like this are bound to happen.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t make it suck any less for my business, though.”
“Well, thank you for helping out since our contractor can’t get back here until tomorrow.” She shifted from one foot to the other. Being polite was one thing, getting too friendly was another. Now, if she could get him to leave, she’d be golden. His presence had her knocked so far off balance that at the rate she was going, her two o’clock hair color appointment might turn out orange instead of auburn.
Not exactly the impression of top-quality service she’d intended to deliver on her first day of work.
“How ‘bout we try the water again and see if the cap holds?” Hailey hurried toward the back of the shop.
It’s In His Song: Book 6 Page 3