Chasing Love

by Natalie Ann

  All the stylists had email addresses where they could answer questions as needed.

  She was scrolling through and saw one from Walker HCP. Taking a deep breath in, she opened up the invoice to see the damage to her wallet.

  She had to look twice. There was no way. It had to be a mistake. The only charge was the part. No labor at all. Not even a set service call charge.

  She called the number at the bottom of the invoice. “Hello, Walker HCP. How may I help you?”

  “Hi. This is Meena Dawson calling. I received an invoice this morning and I think there might be a mistake.”

  “Let me just pull it up and check for you. Hang on, please.” Meena waited on hold for a minute until the chipper employee came back. “No mistake. Troy came in this morning and said to just charge for the part.”

  “Is Troy there for me to talk to him?”

  “I’m sorry. He’s gone for the day. Can I take a message?”

  “No. I’ll get ahold of him another way. Thanks.” She disconnected that call and made another one. “Brian. Can I have Troy’s number?”

  “Is there something wrong? Did you lose hot water again?” he asked.

  “No. He only charged me for the part. No labor.”

  Brian laughed on the other end. “I’m not surprised. What’s the big deal? You’ve known him most of your life. He’s my best friend.”

  “That’s right. Your best friend. Not mine,” she argued.

  “Get over it, Meena. He’s just being nice. He’s always nice to you.”

  “Unlike my brother,” she said, wrinkling her nose and wishing he could see it.

  “You love me like no other. But since I’m such a good brother, I’ll text his number over to you anyway. Give him hell for once.”

  “Thanks, Brian.”

  She disconnected the call and then sat there staring at her phone willing Troy’s number to pop up. When was the last time she waited for a guy’s number like this? Probably never. But those guys weren’t Troy and she’d been waiting for Troy for most of her life.

  When it finally popped up on her phone, she hit the button and then listened to the ring before she even figured out what she was going to say to him.

  4

  Not Enough

  Troy was sitting at a light on his way home when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at the screen on his dashboard to see that it was a local number, but not one that he recognized. Normally he’d send it to voicemail, but for some reason he answered it.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Troy?”

  Meena. “Yep, it’s Troy. Hi, Meena.”

  “Ah. You recognized my voice.”

  It was a good thing she wasn’t near him right now or she’d see him blushing. At least he thought he might be. He felt the heat in his face but was too embarrassed to pull the visor down and check.

  “What can I do for you, Meena? Is there a problem with your water heater again?”

  “No. There’s a problem with the bill.”

  He grinned. “What’s that?”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “Sure, it is.”

  “Troy,” she said, sighing like she used to when Brian would tell her to get lost. Troy never did because he hadn’t wanted to see that sad face of hers. The one where her lips turned down adorably and her eyes took on a sad puppy dog look. He wondered if she had that pout on her face right now.

  “Meena,” he said back.

  “You only charged me for the part.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because I’m the boss and can do what I want.”

  She snorted. “I don’t ever remember you being like this before.”

  “What’s that?” he asked. He heard a horn blare and realized the light turned green but he wasn’t paying attention to anything other than the sweet sound of Meena’s voice.

  “Stubborn.”

  “I’ve always been stubborn. Just never around you.”

  “If you aren’t going to charge me the same as you would someone else, then at least let me treat you to dinner or something. A haircut? Name it. It’s yours.”

  “You’re not touching my hair. God only knows what color it would end up when you were done.”

  He realized he shouldn’t have said that out loud, but somehow it slipped. It didn’t seem to make a difference or she wasn’t offended. At least he didn’t think so by the laughter on the other end.

  “But you’d look so cute with green hair. Or how about red like mine? We could be twinsies.”

  “You’re not touching my hair,” he said.

  “Fine. Then dinner. I insist. Let me take you to dinner tonight. Unless of course you’ve got a hot date.”

  “No hot date.” He hadn’t had a date, hot or otherwise, in longer than he cared to admit. “Are you sure you’ve got time in your busy schedule? No party to go to tonight?”

  “I’m kind of double booked on the party front, so I think I’ll just skip them both rather than trying to fit them in.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was joking or not and was really afraid she might have two parties to go to and didn’t want to ask. “So I’m your backup plan for dinner?”

  “Why not?” she said. “I’ll even let you choose the place.”

  He wanted to say no. He wanted to say he was busy. That maybe Brian wouldn’t like knowing that his best friend and his little sister were going to dinner.

  Then he reminded himself that she was just thanking him for working on her heater. Nothing more, nothing less.

  “Why not?” he echoed her words. “It’s not like I’ve got anything else planned.”

  She laughed. “Text me where and when and I’ll meet you there.” Then she hung up.

  He wanted to put her in the friend’s category? Then she was going to meet him there rather than give him her address just yet. There’d be time for that, she knew.

  Nothing else better to do, he’d said. Jerk.

  Of course she’d kind of said the same thing to him so it’s not like she could fault him.

  But she wasn’t planning on him actually answering his phone. She was going to leave him a stern but playful voicemail. Instead, he answered and the sound of his voice sent tingles through her body like the first sip of coffee after a long night.

  As a kid, it was warm fuzzy bunnies that she had no idea meant she had a crush on him.

  Then it turned into heat filling her face with smiles and nervous laughs.

  As she got older, the fuzzies and the heat turned into tingles in all the zones of her body that she’d love to have him touch. This phone call was no different.

  Who would have thought a crush could turn into this? Into still wanting Troy Walker as her own.

  The boy that was nice to her. That treated her well when others didn’t. That sat and listened to her and would come and talk to her when Brian was running around in the yard.

  The boy, turned man, that gave her a hug at her graduation but stepped back embarrassed for doing it. The one she’d dreamed of for so long, then got upset when she found out he had a girlfriend.

  She’d tried to keep tabs on him through Brian for years. Slyly, of course. If Brian knew what she felt for Troy, he’d stop bringing Troy around, she was positive.

  So she kept it all locked away and watched and listened from a distance. Her feelings for him festering and building knowing that there would be no cure until he was hers.

  At times she wondered if she was nuts—that he never really noticed her the way she wanted—but she couldn’t push those thoughts or emotions about him aside.

  She’d tried though. She’d dated a lot. She’d been in relationships. She’d lived with a man for a short period. But they were never Troy. They never seemed to measure up to what she’d built him up to be.

  Would that be a problem now? Had she put all these hopes and ideas in her head that weren’t true?

  Only one way to find out.

>   They were going on a date tonight. He could call it anything he wanted, but in her mind it was a date. Tonight was going to be the start of her relationship with Troy.

  Tonight, she was going to start her journey into the unknown, but she was full of wishful thinking. Those thoughts were going to become reality.

  Now she just needed to get him on the same page. Or at least see if it was possible for him to even open the book she was reading.

  5

  Plan in Place

  Two hours later, Meena was opening the door to the brewpub downtown. Troy was already standing in the foyer waiting for her. She wasn’t late. She was on time.

  He was early. Like always.

  “Hi,” she said, reaching her hand forward and giving his a squeeze. She’d always been accused of being bold before and if any time called for it, it was now. Not that squeezing his hand was bold or forward by any means, but she’d hugged him earlier and didn’t want to scare him away by doing it again.

  She was going to put her plan in place though.

  He squeezed her hand back, then dropped it away. “Hi yourself,” he said back. It was short and sweet and flirtatious… and she was thrilled. He’d never been this way with her before. That had to mean something, right?

  “Are you sure you won’t let me cut your hair? It looks like it needs a trim.” The wind gave it a nice sexy effect that she was dying to get her hands in.

  “Never happening.” But he was smiling, so he took it as it was intended, she was assuming, as a joke.

  “Hope you’re hungry,” she said. “I’m starving.” Her sandwich and donut just weren’t cutting it at this point. She’d never exercised much in her life, but she never sat still either.

  “I’m always hungry.”

  Her eyes traveled the length of him. Another pair of jeans and a green sweater. She couldn’t help herself. “I called it. Green is a good color on you.”

  “For a shirt, not my hair,” he said, his hand coming up like he was going to tug on a strand of hers but falling away as if he caught himself in the act of being a typical guy on a date.

  “Table for two?” the hostess asked.

  “Yes,” Troy said. She followed behind him disappointed he didn’t put his hand on her lower back and usher her to the table. Oh well, wishful thinking on her part.

  They took their seats and a waitress came over right away, taking their drink orders and handing them a menu to look over. “Have you been here before?” Meena asked him.

  “A few times. The food is good. The beer too. You didn’t want one?”

  “Nah. I’m not much of a beer drinker.” She really wasn’t much of a drinker at all, even though most people thought she went out and got drunk all the time. What was it about having wild hair and clothes that people thought you were up all hours of the night doing shots off of guys’ belly buttons?

  “Hmm,” was all he said, like he didn’t believe her. No use trying to argue. She’d given up years ago. “What are you in the mood for?”

  For you to look at me and treat this like a date, she wanted to say, but of course she wouldn’t. She had no clue where he stood and wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize their friendship. The bigger fear was scaring him at the moment and making any future communications awkward.

  “I haven’t had a good steak in a while. I think I’ll get the strip. What about you?”

  “That sounds good too.” He set his menu down and looked at her for a second, then asked, “Why red?”

  “My hair?” she asked.

  “It’s the only red you’ve got on right now.”

  She grinned. “True. I like different colors. I haven’t been red before. Not this shade. It’s different but still more acceptable than the other vivid colors.”

  “That’s acceptable?” he asked, squinting one eye.

  She was trying not to take offense to his comment. He’d never said a mean thing to her a day in her life, but part of her was still kind of hurt. She didn’t have a chance to reply before their drinks were delivered and the waitress said, “I love your color.”

  “Thanks,” Meena said, tilting her head at Troy. “Do you think this color is socially acceptable? More so than, say, blue?” she asked the waitress.

  “Hair is hair. The funkier the better, but I guess red is more mainstream. I wish I had the courage to do it, but I’m afraid I couldn’t handle the maintenance of it. A lot of my friends have different colors and they keep encouraging me to do it.”

  “Like you said, hair is hair,” Meena said. “It can always be changed or grow back. Very versatile if done correctly.”

  “I know. I hear that too. My friends went to Pulse and love it there. They told me if I ever do it, that’s the place to go.”

  Meena laughed, caught Troy’s snort, then said, “I heard it’s pretty rad in there too.”

  “Is that where you go?” the waitress asked. “Who do you see?”

  “I own Pulse. And I’m Meena. Depending on the colors and style, I do it myself. Otherwise one of the other girls does it and they’re all fabulous. You can’t go wrong with any of them.”

  “Oh, wow. I feel like such a fool now. Sorry to take up your time too. Do you know what you want to order?”

  “I love talking about hair.” She pulled her card out of her purse and wrote on the back. “Here. If you decide you want to give it a try, I’ll take twenty percent off the first time.”

  “That’s awesome. I think I might just do it.” Troy was shaking his head at her, but smiling. She figured she’d proven her point. “Anyway, sorry to be dragging on your date like that. What would you like to order?”

  When the waitress left, Meena took that as an opening and said, “So, our first date.”

  Troy was trying to figure out what to say.

  First off, Meena squarely put him in his place. He hadn’t been trying to insult her or hurt her feelings about her hair color. He just wanted to know why she chose red.

  Then before he could get out of it, somehow he tried to crack a joke about it being socially acceptable.

  He should just stick to being basic. To being boring. To being himself.

  Here he was trying to be friendly with a bit of flirty added in. Trying to be something all the women in his past said he’d never be.

  Why he was trying with Meena was beyond him. Maybe because he felt safe with her.

  That she was always the outgoing wild one and that if he tried it and failed it wouldn’t matter because he’d never stand out as much as her.

  Though aside from her hair, she didn’t really stand out that much just now.

  After she’d taken her jacket off, he noticed that she had on dark jeans—another pair molded to her—gray ankle boots and a gray and white shirt. Her hair almost seemed like an accent more than anything right now. An accessory.

  And since the waitress put them on the spot saying they were on a date, he figured Meena was just joking, so he’d do the same. “And you’re buying,” he said with a grin.

  “What’s wrong with women equality?”

  Did he put his foot in his mouth again? “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  She reached her hand over and grabbed his and held on. “I know you’re joking. Or trying to. I did it back. Relax, Troy. You’re tense for some reason. What’s going on?”

  He was afraid to tell her that he was nervous to be out with her right now. That for years he’d secretly wished this day might come about and here it was, but it was only a thank you dinner.

  “It was just a long day. Not much more than that.”

  “And you started it off fixing my water heater. Really, Troy. I can’t thank you enough. I appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem,” he said.

  “Is it hard running the business alone?” she asked him.

  He was surprised she asked that. No one else ever had. None of the women he ever dated. Not even Sabrina who wanted to marry him. He’d held off proposing and knew there was a reason. She didn�
�t understand him and never would.

  “It’s hard enough. Stephanie lives in Hawaii with her family now. Before that, they were in Germany. Even if she wanted a part of the business, she isn’t around to do anything.”

  Stephanie was his older sister who moved around with her husband’s military career. When his father died suddenly, Stephanie said she wasn’t interested in the business, which was left to his mother anyway. His mother turned around and handed it over to him legally, while they worked out a cash buyout for Stephanie.

  He wanted to be fair to his sister. He’d always been that way. Just another thing Sabrina didn’t understand. Said he was crazy to buy his sister out. Sabrina was just greedy on top of it.

  “How is Stephanie doing?” Meena asked.

  “Good. She substitute teaches when she can, depending on where they’re living. The kids are in school now, so she has time on her hands.”

  “That’s a nice normal life,” Meena said.

  Troy laughed. “We know you are far from normal.”

  “Wow. You used to be my favorite. Here we are on our first date and all, and you’ve insulted me a few times.”

  She’d laughed when she said it, but his heart was racing for a multitude of reasons. He’d never wanted to hurt her a day in his life.

  Second of all, he was totally blowing this. When had he become so bad at talking to women? Or better yet, would he ever get better at talking to women?

  “I’m sorry. That’s not my intent.”

  “Okay,” she said, still holding his hand, but she patted it now and pulled it away. “I’m the one that is sorry. I know you’re trying to be funny and I’m just making you feel like you’re failing. My bad. I’ll stop. No, I’ve never been normal. That would be boring.”

  “And you’re anything but that too,” he said, grinning.

  “There you go. Though I’m positive my life isn’t as exciting as many think it is.”