“Why, am I making you nervous?”
“Oh, please.” She made sure her hands never slowed as she rolled her eyes at him. “You’re not that cute.”
There was that smile again; the same one she’d seen plenty of times since they first met last summer, the same one that always made her smile back. Why was that?
Focus.
Regan studied him for a few seconds, both his hair and his reflection. No, she wasn’t checking him out, she was simply trying to figure out what to do, and everything about him would help her decide. So what if she took a few more seconds to study the strong line of his jaw, the barely noticeable scar that disappeared into his left eyebrow or the couple days’ worth of stubble she usually hated on a guy? This was all part of the job.
Didn’t explain why she kept staring even after he licked his lips and cleared his throat, though. Ooops.
“Okay.” Regan slid her fingers though the damp length of his hair and stared straight back at him through the mirror. “You’re going to have to trust me here, Carter. We’re going to go short.”
His eyes never left hers as he lifted his shoulder under the cape. “Do what you like; it always grows back.”
She started in, lifting sections slowly, and sending clumps falling to the floor. A few times she dared a peek to see his reaction, but he wasn’t watching his hair fall, he was still watching her.
“Sorry about your place closing,” he said. “You didn’t want to re-sign the lease?”
“Oh, no, I was all set to re-sign; the landlord and I talked it over last summer, agreed on terms and everything, but the day he was supposed to bring me the paperwork to sign, he announced he’d sold the building instead.”
“Just like that?”
“Yup. So if the rumors are true, you’re sitting in what will soon be a fancy little coffeehouse.”
“Another one?” His eyes widened. “But there’s gotta be five or six restaurants on this street already.”
“Eight, actually.” Boy, his hair was thick. Soft, too.
“Can you go work at one of the other hair places?”
“Salons, and no.” Regan shook her head and snickered softly. “There’s only one salon with a chair to rent and the owner and I don’t exactly see eye to eye on certain things.”
“Like what?”
“Like quality of cuts versus quantity of cuts, like how sales reps should be treated, like how it’s no one else’s business if I want to cut Mrs. G’s hair for free.” She grinned, shrugged. “Little things like that.”
“So what are you gonna do?”
“Ideally, I’d like to buy a place of my own.”
“But…”
“But for some strange reason”—she chuckled quietly—“the bank wants more than just a smile and my good word before they’ll give me a mortgage. Look down.” She pressed her fingers against the back of his head and pushed slightly. “Apparently they have a problem with the fact that, unless I can score that checkout job at the CozyMart, I’m about to become unemployed. Go figure.”
“CozyMart?” he choked. “You’re shittin’ me, right?”
“Don’t knock it.” She waved the buzzing razor near his ear in warning. “Retail’s the most thankless job out there.”
“And the most underpaid,” he grunted. “So why the hell would you want to do it?”
“I don’t want to do it,” she said. “But there aren’t many options here in town, and if that’s what it takes to make the bank happy, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll keep styling, too, but I’ll have to take my show on the road for now and go to clients’ homes.”
Carter’s expression summed up exactly how she felt about going mobile.
“Is that it?” he asked. “Those are your only options?”
“It won’t be so bad.” She ran the razor along the back of his neck in short, slow strokes, then pressed her fingers against the back of his ear to protect it from the blade.
Carter jerked slightly, making her pull the razor back.
“Did I nick you?”
“No,” he muttered. “It’s fine.”
Regan knew a fake fine when she heard one but she didn’t call him on it because he hadn’t called her out when she’d dropped her fine earlier. Instead, she pressed her finger against his ear again, gentler this time, and took her time making sure everything was even. Sure, she let her fingers trail down his neck a little, but that was only to brush away the loose hairs. It had nothing to do with the fact his skin was so warm or that her fingers tingled when she touched him.
Funny how they both sighed quietly when she lifted her hand away.
There was little she could do with the double cowlick at the back of his head or the mini-tornado he had going on at the front, but the rest was coming together rather nicely, if she did say so herself. She cut it close around his ears, but left it a little longer and heavier on top. As thick as his hair was, with it cut this way, and with the help of some strategically placed product, she could almost hide the near-bald spot.
She slid her fingers over the top of his head, lifting the hair and studying his reflection in the mirror to make sure the cut was even all over. “These other doctor friends of yours—are they more the Marcus Welby types?”
“Uh, no.” He laughed softly, a warm rumble that settled against Regan’s skin. “Not even close.”
“And could either of them out-hot any of those TV doctors?” She shot him a quick wink, then set the hair dryer to low and used her fingers to section his hair as she dried it.
“Jules isn’t hard to look at, but Rossick…well, guys aren’t my thing, so I can’t really answer that, but he was in one of those fund-raising calendars last year if that does anything for you.”
“Not unless he looks like Mr. October from the firefighters’ new calendar.” She opened her eyes wide and exhaled slowly. “I’d burn my own apartment down if I thought it’d bring him around. Just sayin’.”
A few longish strays needed to be snipped, and the edges evened out along his neck and around his ears. When she was satisfied, she rubbed a tiny bit of product over her finger tips and ran them through his hair, teasing parts of it up, taming bits of it down, and mussing up the rest. Oh yes.
Standing behind him, she fingered the ends of his hair near the front where the tornado-type cowlick twisted almost straight up.
“That’s better,” she said, more to herself than anything. “Much better.”
“If you say so.” His grin held, but his voice sounded skeptical. “So long as you don’t expect me to use that goop all the time.”
“Goop?” Regan fingered the tips of his hair again. She didn’t have to; she just wanted to. “It’s your hair, Carter, what you choose to do with it once you leave my chair is entirely up to you.”
His dark eyes narrowed, mocking her long before he opened his mouth. “Drives you crazy, doesn’t it?”
“What? No.”
“Liar.” He tipped his head a little, his brow raised suspiciously. “You spend all this time fixing me up and then I walk out the door and let it go to hell again. That doesn’t tick you off?”
She pulled the cape from around his shoulders and gave it a quick shake before folding it up and tucking it back in the box. “Only when your laziness gets mistaken for a bad cut.”
“So how ’bout I buy you a drink to make up for letting all your hard work go to hell?”
“Close your eyes.” Regan gave him a thorough sweep with the duster, then bobbed her head toward her ridiculous little paper cup. “I’ve already had a drink.”
“But it’s New Year’s Eve.” He pushed out of the chair, rubbed his earlobe in a slow circle and shrugged noncommittally. “One drink.”
He was standing far too close, so she stepped back and reached for the broom, which she immediately jabbed toward his scuffed boots to get him out of the way. He wrapped his hand around the broom handle, but didn’t try to pull it out of her hands; just stopped her from ignoring him.
&
nbsp; “One drink.” He inched a little closer, crowding her, but Regan just tightened her fingers around the broom handle above his and swallowed.
The more she thought about turning her beloved salon into a mobile unit or, worse, going to work at a thankless minimum wage job, the more she wanted another good stiff drink. And if that drink was with a no-strings-attached kind of guy like Carter, who smelled so amazing (some crazy good mix of shampoo and leather), then more’s the better as far as she was concerned.
It was tempting, no question, but the reality was the sooner she got up to Jayne’s, the sooner she could leave.
After a long moment, Regan finally blinked and sighed softly. “How ’bout you ‘buy’ me a drink at Jayne’s? If we don’t get there soon, she’s going to send out the hounds.”
It took a few seconds before he finally nodded. “Yeah, she would, too.”
He released the broom and stepped around her to grab his jacket off the sink. With slow, deliberate motions, he shrugged into it and zipped it up. “What do I owe you?”
“On the house.” She couldn’t help grinning at the job she’d done. As good-looking as he was before, he was freakin’ hot now. Like Mr. October Fireman hot.
“No, come on…” He pulled a couple twenties out of his pocket and held them out, but she shook her head.
“Keep it.” She refused to take the money, even when he pushed it at her again. “Take me for a spin on your bike one day and we’ll call it even.”
The half grin was back, cockier than ever. “You got it.”
What the hell was she thinking? She’d never been on a motorcycle before—and up until the very second the words spilled out of her mouth, she’d never even considered getting on one.
“It was good to see you.” He backed up as he spoke and bumped into the door before he managed to unlock it and push it open, grinning all the while. “Meet you up there?”
“Yeah. I’m just going to, um…” She thumbed over her shoulder. “Clean up.”
They stared at each other for a long second, his smile kind of goofy as his fingers tapped against the door handle.
“Right. Okay. Thanks for the cut.”
“My pleasure.” She cleared her throat and leaned against the broom handle, staring out into the darkness long after he climbed onto his bike and rode away. When she finally shook the fog out of her brain, she locked the door and set to work cleaning up after Carter’s cut. Everything else was done, but she just couldn’t seem to let herself be finished.
Eleven years she’d been styling hair, almost eight of those in this location, and now she had…what? A couple boxes of leftover product, three dozen white towels, and a couple hundred business cards. The guy was coming tomorrow for the sinks and the chairs, she’d give her keys back to the landlord, and that would be it.
Nothing left to do but find a new job. So what if unemployment was at a decade-long high and the CozyMart hadn’t even acknowledged her application yet? It could be worse, right? And right on cue, her phone rang.
“Hello? Tina? Is everything okay? Is Mom—?” Regan gripped the back of the chair, her eyes clenched, her heart thundering in her chest. “You’re sure? Okay, good.”
She released the breath she’d been holding and forced herself to swallow the leftover panic. Tina Works, chief administrator at Hillcrest Psychiatric Home, took a personal interest in every patient, so it wasn’t unusual for her to phone Regan to discuss her mother’s progress, not even on New Year’s Eve. Or in this case, especially on New Year’s Eve.
“No, nothing yet, but tomorrow’s a whole new year, right?” She smiled into the phone, but she wasn’t fooling either of them. With costs always increasing at Hillcrest, her mom’s disability pension wasn’t enough to cover everything, which meant Regan’s savings were slowly withering, but moving her mom somewhere else would only happen as a desperate last resort.
“Funding? What kind of funding? What would it cover?”
After all the other forms and applications they’d filled out over the years, it was too much to hope this would be any different, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. And while she should know better than to get her hopes up again, she couldn’t help it.
“Absolutely, whatever you need. Can I email copies or do they need originals? Yes, I know, but a long shot is still better than no shot, right?…Great…yup, I’ll get it all back to you right away…Okay, and once they have the application, how long until they make a decision? Yeah, okay, good. Thanks…Me? I’m fine. You’re sure Mom’s okay tonight? Is she watching the movie?…That’s good, she loves Gregory Peck…Any chance she’s up for a visit or a—?…No, that’s fine, I understand…Is it okay if I call back later, just to check? Okay, thanks. Happy New Year, Tina.”
Regan ended the call, leaned back against the wall, and slid down until she sat on the floor, knees tucked up to her chest. She looked around at what was left of her salon.
Yup. Happy freakin’ New Year.
Chapter Two
“You could use a good kiss.”
Han Solo, The Empire Strikes Back
“Sweet mother of God, he cut his hair.” Maya’s soft blue eyes gaped over the rim of her wineglass as Carter made his way from the far end of Jayne’s house and waded into the crowded living room.
From where Regan stood in the kitchen, she had to lean way back to look, then grinned and went back to the platter Jayne asked her to fill.
“Choose your next words carefully,” she warned. “That’s some of my best work you’re looking at.”
She rinsed a bunch of grapes in the sink, patted them dry, and set them between slices of Gouda and Havarti.
“You did that?” Maya was openly gaping now, her eyes wider than Regan had ever seen them. “Well done, my friend. Very well done.”
“Thank you.” Regan filled a few gaps on the plate with more cheese, then leaned back against the island next to her friend so she could gawk at Carter, too. “Blink, Maya. And for God’s sake, close your mouth.”
Maya did as she was told, then blew a long appreciative breath. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
What with the voices in the living room and Mellencamp blasting from the speakers, it was impossible to hear what Nick said to him, but Carter ran his hand through his freshly cut hair and grinned; part cocky, part self-conscious, and totally hot.
“Oh sweet Lord, I think my ovaries just exploded.” Maya’s quiet purr faded to an almost whimper. “Please tell me he’s still single and please tell me I’m imagining that he keeps checking you out, Reg.”
If Maya had any idea how much Regan had been checking Carter out already, she’d shit a duck. It wasn’t funny, but that didn’t stop Regan from grinning.
“Oh my God,” Maya gaped. “You little tramp! What else did you do to him while you had him in your chair?”
“What?” Regan cried. “Nothing!”
“Uh-huh. You’re such a liar.” She rolled her eyes over the rim of her glass and snorted. “You could fry an egg off that sizzle, Reg, and if I were you, I’d ditch this shindig in a heartbeat and go get me some of that. Dollars to doughnuts he’s the best sex you’ll ever have.”
Regan couldn’t decide if Carter heard Maya, or if it was by chance he happened to grin over at them right then. Either way, she wished she hadn’t just taken the last sip of her drink because as she tried to swallow it, she sucked in a breath and ended up choking.
Not just a quick cough, either, but a full-body, set-the-glass-down-and-stagger-from-the-room-before-you-hack-up-a-kidney kind of choke. The last thing she saw as she stumbled toward the bathroom was Carter’s dark eyes laughing at her as he watched her disappear.
Great.
Locked in the bathroom, she tried to keep the coughing quiet, but the more she fought it, the longer it went on, so with a grimace, she forced her lungs to expel everything in a loud ripping cough that would’ve scared a longshoreman.
“What the hell was that?” Maya’s harsh chuckle from the other
side of the door was anything but comforting. “I think there’s a doctor in the kitchen if you need one.”
Over a few more coughs, Regan managed to sputter, “Don’t you dare—”
Her friend’s soft laughter faded away until there was silence on the other side of the door again. Regan leaned over the sink, shaking her head at her blotchy reflection. If she didn’t get back out there pretty quick, Maya would no doubt send Carter in. If Ellie was there, she would have done it already.
She used her hands to cup some water up to her mouth, then pressed her damp palms over her cheeks until the red blotches finally faded. Quick makeup check, a couple long, careful breaths…not so much as a tickle…and she was good to go. Now all she needed was a nice cold beer to help her make a casual reentry.
“You okay?” Carter leaned back against the kitchen sink, a Corona in his left hand, the fingers of his right tucked down the front pocket of his jeans.
Damn it. So much for a casual reentry.
“Yeah, fine. That’s what I get for trying to breathe and swallow at the same time.”
“Never ends well.” His dark eyes crinkled at the corners. “Maya thought you might need CPR.”
“Yeah,” Regan snorted. “I’m sure.”
“Here. Bought you a drink.” Sporting his cocky half grin, he pulled a frosty bottle of beer out of the fridge and popped the top. “Want a glass?”
“No, this is good, thanks.” She reached for the bottle, but he let his fingers linger under hers for a moment before letting her take it. A chill danced up her arm, but when she glanced around, looking for an open door or window, she couldn’t find either. As her gaze came back around, she only hesitated a second on his face before…wait a minute.
“You shaved.” Regan tipped her head a little to the right, frowning slightly. “I could’ve done that when you were in earlier, but I thought the stubble was part of the whole…‘look.’ ”
“I don’t have a look; I’m just lazy.” He rubbed his earlobe between his thumb and forefinger, blew a slow breath over the top of his bottle, and shook his head slowly. “And there’s no way in hell I’d let you shave me.”
Prima Donna Page 2