by Landra Graf
“Why? What harm would a trim do?”
She shook her index finger back and forth. “No, that’s what people tell you to get you in the door. We already discussed this. You’re polishing a diamond, not cutting it into a new shape.”
Dev came closer to her, something she didn’t know if she wanted. Since the kiss and the PPE revelations, she’d warred with herself over the attraction to him. He wore another suit today, all clean cut, black, and sophisticated. No tie, though, so the collar button was left undone, gifting her with a hint of his chest and the smattering of dark hair there. “Have you ever heard of the word pamper?”
“Yes, add the letter S, and you’ve got an extremely popular diaper brand. Are you making a reference to me acting like a child?”
The megawatt smile made an appearance. She liked being able to make him happy, to give him an opportunity to showcase one of his winning features. When he looked at her like that, she felt cared about, important to him. Dangerous thoughts indeed.
“I’ll take that as a yes, but I imagine you don’t do much of it.”
She could smell his scent again, swirling around her, tempting and exotic. “Rich women, like your ex, can afford it. I like to spend my money on other things.”
“We’re not talking about money or who’s going to pay for it. I am talking about getting you some pampering. A quick trim of the hair, a blowout, something to show me the possibilities you hide in a ponytail all the time. Whether you like it or not, you’ll have to put forth a little bit of effort for this event.”
Red flags pinged in her brain, and she put a hand on the car door handle.
He reached for her, covering her hand with his. Warmth spread. She liked his touch too much. Enough to keep her from asking him to back off, to stay away and keep her from making a mistake by breaking her deal with Mark.
“I’m not saying makeup or jewelry. Don’t think I’m going to put you out of your element. I’m trying to help you find the element.”
“No hair color or fancy curling?”
He applied pressure to her hand, squeezing it as if to reassure with touch as much as his next words. “If you wanted something like that, I’m sure the stylists inside would be able to make you look fabulous. But you already have amazing color, and I know curlers are not your thing. This is about running through some ideas and giving you a chance to have yourself taken care of for once. Shampoo, a style—that’s it, no pressure.”
His explanation made it sound easy, simple. She let go of the door handle and stepped closer to him. “All right, I’ll give it a shot.”
Beauty Magicians, the salon he’d selected, stuck out like a carnival ride at a refined shopping center. Over the top colors of purple, red, and orange with dozens of framed posters recounting magician acts hung on the walls and in the display windows. She caught herself staring at them, reading the messages from “the amazing wonder” to “a disappearing act you won’t forget.” She wanted to do exactly that.
The main desk was decked out like a stage with red velvet pleated and hanging from both sides, revealing “Beauty Magicians” in fancy block letters. Behind it, a woman in a tuxedo shirt and jacket with a black bow tie stood typing away at a computer. Her long, black-and-white hair flowed around her shoulders, a top hat with a wand sat beside her, and her name tag said, “Ace.”
Dev spoke first. “Good morning, an appointment for Kat Baum?”
Ace didn’t look up or acknowledge them right away. The clickety-clack of the keyboard was the reigning sound amid stage music playing over the speaker system and a blow dryer somewhere in the distance. “A 10:30?”
“Correct.”
She then graced them with a visual cue. “We have you booked with The Charming Chad. If you have a seat, he’ll be right with you to work his magic.” The last word was paired with her picking up the magic wand on the desk and waving it in the air.
Dev provided a thank you, and then they sat. Nerves bundled up in her gut like an angry swarm of bees. She didn’t want to go through with this or hear about her ugly hair. A million and one insults flitted through her brain, and she started tapping her toes on the painted concrete floors. Twice she opened her mouth to tell Dev she’d changed her mind, that she’d realized her fragile self-esteem couldn’t go through with this farce. Each time, a new reason stopped her. She got so wound up in her musings, the yes or no, that she failed to hear her name being called until Dev put a hand on her shoulder.
“We’re up. It’s time to meet your hairdresser.”
She blinked a couple of times to clear the errant thoughts and stood. “Ready.”
Chad was a blond with a mass of tight, spiral curls on the top of his head. He inclined said curly head before stating, “Prepare to experience wonder.”
This came with a wink from one of his light blue eyes. He wore a tuxedo shirt with no sleeves and a bow tie around his neck, very Chippendale’s. The biceps and wide shoulders demonstrated a gorgeous physique, and she realized this was a prank.
“You can’t be serious.”
The smile Chad gave her was wide and perfect. “I’m confident I work wonders.”
“No, I’m not talking skills, I’m talking about the uniform. You look like a stripper.” Kat knew she’d made a faux pas by Dev’s wide eyes and throat clearing, but fuck it.
“Thank goodness; I thought I looked like a sexy magician. Now bring your mouth and follow me.”
Thirty minutes later, her hair had been washed and rinsed and she sat in Chad’s “magic hair chair,” as he called it. He’d combed everything out and then looked at her from all angles. “So refresh me Dev, what do you want to do for her?”
“A basic trim and then some ideas on simple hairstyling she can do from home. Nothing that requires any fancy equipment or more than twenty minutes.”
Chad whistled low. “You’re not asking for miracles, are you?”
The sarcasm and way he eyed her hair were exactly what she didn’t want or need.
“You said you’re the Charming Chad, but right now you’re the cruel, crusty Chad.” Kat reached for the hair cloth covering her. As she began to tug and rip the damn thing off, Crusty spoke.
“That’s a pretty nasty nickname.”
“She’s got one for anybody she doesn’t like,” Dev chimed in.
Ol’ Crusty shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sorry for being cruel. You’ve got gorgeous hair, and I can trim it and show you a few things.”
So he did as promised, a trim, and a dry with some round-brush-thing that he told Kat she could have.
“You need volume, sweetie. No slicking this hair back. Give it lift, and it will love you. Even using the brush and then putting half the hair back.” He lifted up a top layer, where bangs would have been, and showed her a simple half ponytail. “Where do you plan on showing off these luscious locks, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“We’ll be attending the Bentonville Beautification Board’s fundraiser dinner this coming Thursday night.”
Chad dropped the curtain of her hair he’d been fondling. “Excuse me? A fundraiser and you’re going with a simple ten-minute updo? Oh no, honey. Call me Crusty if you want, but you’ll be sitting your sweet bottom in this chair come fundraiser day, and I will have you looking fabulous.”
Kat shook her head. “No, not necessary.”
The look he leveled at her made her feel like she’d gotten caught in a cage match with a wild animal. “It’s not only necessary, it’s essential. Those rich society folks don’t pay attention to anyone who doesn’t try to look like they fit in.”
“The money.”
“Beautiful, it will be taken care of. Right, Dev?”
She looked over at her partner to see him betray her with a nod.
“I don’t like to spend money I don’t have.”
“If it accomplishes our goals, I don’t care about the money, and Chad can help us do that. Besides, hermosa, he’s the expert. If you can’t trust him, then you can’t trust anyone
.”
The two men carried on once more like she didn’t exist. Deep down she loved the special treatment, the hair salon time, and having her locks at the mercy of a professional instead of her poor attempts at a blowout— that’s what scared her.
From the beauty salon, Dev took her to lunch at some swanky Mexican place on the downtown square where the butternut squash enchiladas were to die for, according to him. She settled for something a little more red-meat-style with the beef enchiladas and a glass of sweet tea. Once the waiter walked off with their order, she decided to get some things off her mind.
“You knew he would do that, didn’t you?”
“Hmm?” Dev glanced up from the beverage menu still on the table.
“The offer to do my hair, you knew he’d make it.”
“It was a possibility.”
She’d been played, and she’d fallen in line with his little trick. Even if she enjoyed him helping her past her comfort zones, letting him run the show equated to a risk. Each day they spent together, the getting-to-know-you pieces slipped into place and increased the risk.
“You could still cancel,” he offered. “It wouldn’t take much time to place a call.”
“And throw away a chance to spend someone else’s money? No way.” She tried to make her voice sound as laissez-faire as she imagined Purple People Eater’s might, without a care or consideration. Then she asked another burning question. “Did you help Pru start her downtown project?”
He took a sip of water and reacted slowly and coolly. For the first time she picked up on his tell— moving like molasses before opening his mouth to speak. He hoarded those seconds, a master at the long game. “We both loved this area of the city—the restaurants and the hiking trails. Naturally, we wanted a radius of four to six blocks surrounding the area to be restored to its former glory. The history of this area deserves to be preserved, to gain attention. It hurts to know she perverted our dream in such a way.”
Kat wanted to reach out and take his hand, for comforting only. For a few seconds, she staved off the desire, and then she didn’t. His hand was warm in hers, and if he’d asked, she would’ve confessed to experiencing a tingling sensation at the moment of contact. But he didn’t ask, so she spoke instead. “I’m sorry too, and thank you for what you did with the salon, even if I did hate every minute. It’s very kind of you to keep doing these things for me.”
“They are the right things, so it’s no problem. And your outfit today, the slacks and empire-waist top go well together. The little sweater works too.”
“I’m learning from the best.”
He took his free hand and held it to her forehead; she resisted the urge to lean into it. She also stopped herself from reading too much into how he’d created another excuse to touch her. “You’re not running a fever. Maybe there is a positive, compliment-capable woman inside you after all.”
“Don’t get too excited; this is temporary because I’m empathetic.”
The megawatt smile appeared. “Then I’ll have to give you more reasons to be this way in the future, at least toward me.”
She let go of his hand and pulled back. At that moment, she wanted to kiss him again, but she needed to keep her line drawn in the sand, for her own self-preservation at the very least.
“My turn to ask a question. Where are your parents?”
One inquiry and he’d effectively doused whatever lustful feelings she possessed. Her lunch was officially ruined.
Dev didn’t expect the mood to sour with one little question, but it did. He’d wanted to make simple conversation, to get to know the woman he’d been working with for the last four weeks. She’d become part of his life in ways he hadn’t expected. He looked forward to spending time with her and enjoyed their banter, their moments of conflict, and their moments of intimacy without physical actions. When her lips fold inward and she winced, he instantly regretted sullying their moment.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She took a sip of water. The word sounded hollow, a farce.
“I thought we were past the lying. You can tell me whatever, and I’m not going to judge it.”
“It’s not that. Talking about my parents is uncomfortable for me. Most people have a lot of happy memories with their parents. In my case, not so much since they left me on my grandma’s doorstep when I was ten years old.”
“What do you mean they left you on her doorstep?” The concept sounded foreign to him, a man who’d grown up with loving parents, grandparents, a sibling, and plenty of family all around him. To hand someone over to another person, to give up the ability to guide them and raise them, the idea sounded ridiculous. Yet, she wasn’t the only person who’d confessed stories of abandonment by parents in one capacity or another.
“They wanted to travel, to do things too dangerous for a child, according to them. My gran called them lots of names, mainly fools who couldn’t see their greatest gift. She told me over and over again how thankful she was in the later years for having me around, for not losing me to my parents’ stupid adventures in the wide world. I won’t pretend I didn’t feel anger at them, though. They’d remember to send birthday cards or Christmas presents sometimes.”
“Was their reason really traveling?” His heart broke into a million pieces at the idea of being a child with only a grandmother to rely on for support and guidance.
“My Gran said her children were the product of bad blood, a dismissive father, and not enough goodness. My mother would say she’d never planned on having a kid. In fact, I was unplanned and a mistake. Of course, she followed it up with how adorable I looked, how they didn’t believe in giving me up for adoption because of some horrible story they saw on the news around the time I was born, and how both her and my dad were not fit to be parents.”
“I’m so sorry, Kat.”
She covered his hand with hers, and he soaked in the contact once more. He loved how she trusted him enough with these small touches without him having to initiate them. Giving her comfort was as natural as breathing.
“It’s fine. I’ve had a lot of years to think about things, and I really wouldn’t want my life any other way. If I’d stayed with them, who know how I would’ve turned out. Gran helped me a lot, though I’ll admit being there started my personal curse.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not adept at keeping boyfriends or anyone around, except for Gran. Friends left me; boyfriends hung around until they got what they wanted or realized they wouldn’t get it. Anyways, I think I see our waiter headed our way. Let’s ditch the sad conversation and get back to business.”
He nodded in agreement and kept his promise to help her save her house silent. Actions spoke louder than words, and so far the actions she’d seen from those who should’ve cared for her were less than stellar. There would be time for him to show her, to gift her with caring efforts, and to win her over. She needed true friends, and he could be one of them.
The remainder of their lunch, the trip back to Kat’s house, and the early evening hours were spent in heavy training. They started with conversation skills and small talk, reviewed the names and photos of the board members, and ended with good topics of conversation versus bad topics. He wanted to make sure she got attention. He helped her with subtle cues on when to bring up her house or when to move on. Hard, devilish stuff, which, with their limited time, made it so important she nail as many details as possible.
He’d used the session to move away from their personal moments earlier in the day, the ones where they’d touched or where they’d asked each other questions equivalent to peeling back skin. It was hard admitting to himself the pains Pru had caused, but confessing them to someone else made him feel weak. Not even Mark knew all the deep details. The fact Kat, in turn, shared her deep-seated issues with her parents, an open wound he’d encouraged her to reveal, had brought them closer. Keeping grounded in work, like Kat suggested, by focusing on the current issue at hand and not personal aspects,
seemed the best way to go. He’d been honest when he’d told her that helping others acted as a way to make up for his past mistakes. For letting his ex stay on her rampaging path without doing anything to temper the woman she’d turned into—fiercely independent, but with such a vicious streak.
Staring at her opposite, a woman who’d been taught beauty and worth rested within oneself, the choices he had made so far felt right. “Okay, let’s review again. Pru’s board consists of her and?”
Kat took a deep breath. “Richard Lessing, President of Starfish Marketing; his best friend and a big VP for that giant retailer, Hugh Miller; and the old philanthropist, rich dude Jimmy something.”
“That’s Jim Hunt. He’s Pru’s godfather and is happy to support her in just about any idea she has. And you missed one. Colton Kinyon, he’s a bit of a wild card and the only one on this project who doesn’t sit on my board of investors.”
She hung her head. “I should be able to get all of this, but we’ve reviewed it for hours and I’m still not remembering their names or the details. I’m going to screw the pooch without fail.”
“It’s only nerves, and you’ve got days to get this figured out. We have the index cards you can continue combing over.” The words didn’t seem to help; her body locked rigid, and tension radiated off her frame. “All right. Head up and stand up. We need to shake this off.”
She stood, the frown on her face even more prominent. The look shouldn’t make his insides clench or trigger an immediate desire to help, but it did. Her frown could be wiped away easily, and he saw the way in a flash of images in his mind, from taking her into his arms to molding his lips to hers. Then she’d sigh, lean into him with her breasts against his chest, and he’d get to taste her again. He’d woken from a dream last night that involved her mouth and unique taste.
“All right, I’m standing here.” Kat’s annoyed outburst brought him back to the present.
“Stretching. Those warm-ups we did a few weeks ago?”
“What about them?” She looked adorable when perturbed, and it bothered him how easily he got distracted, how she disordered his thoughts with one angry look.