“She’s just here for a short time, and you’ve only known her a few days,” his mother reminded him.
“I know. Don’t worry, Mom.”
Despite the fact that he was flirting with temptation, he had to follow up on the party invitation. Not that he wanted to retract his offer to take Scarlett to Dewey’s. He wanted to be with her, socially or otherwise. He knew intimacy wasn’t a wise choice for them; at the same time, he wasn’t sure that knowledge would stop him from kissing her again.
On Friday he left a few minutes early for lunch so he could stop by the salon.
He paused just outside the window of Clarissa’s House of Style. The brightly colored lights framed Scarlett, who wore a jaunty Santa hat with her green sweater and jeans. The little belly button ring twinkled in the overhead lights. As she brushed out the curls of Mrs. Casale, who owned the grocery store with her husband, James smiled at the picture Scarlett presented. She looked as out of place as the blue-and-yellow parakeet he’d seen at his mother’s bird feeder did among a flock of sparrows. But Scarlett seemed perfectly at home, especially at Christmastime, with her red hair and green sweater and built-in sparkle.
“Hi,” he said, after walking in.
Her smile faded and her eyes got round as she stopped brushing Mrs. Casale’s hair. “Um, hi.”
“Are you free for lunch?”
“No! Sorry, but I have someone else coming in soon.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to talk to you between customers again,” he said, using his best smile. “Hello, Mrs. Casale.”
“Good to see you, James.” She looked at him above her bifocals. “Is that a new hairstyle you’re sporting?”
“Why, yes it is. Scarlett cut my hair the other day.” He ran his hands through the choppy strands. “Do you like it?”
“You look a little like Ty Pennington. He’s a hottie.”
“Good to know,” James replied, his smile fading as he wondered what Mrs. Casale considered “hot.”
“Is this about the Christmas party?” Scarlett asked.
“Yes. I need to see what time to pick you up.”
“Well,” she said, concentrating on fluffing her customer’s hair, “about that. I told Clarissa that I’d go with her.”
He felt his smile fade like ice cream on a hot day. “I thought we were going together.”
She held up a comb. “I never agreed.”
“Hmm, I must have misread your intentions.” Would that be while she was so busy exploring his mouth?
“You might want to stand away,” she said, brandishing a can of hair spray. He stepped back and she sprayed Mrs. Casale’s dark blond hair.
He smiled at the grocery store owner as she gave Scarlett a tip, looked him over one more time, then went to pay Clarissa. He stepped closer as Scarlett swept clippings from the linoleum.
“Why don’t you want to go with me?” he asked, moving near so they could have a semiprivate conversation.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“You thought spending time together was a good idea two days ago, when you asked me to drive you around.”
“Yes, I did, but I guess it wasn’t.”
He leaned even closer and said softly in her ear, “Because of the kiss, right?”
She moved back with her broom and long-handled dustpan. “That wasn’t a good idea, either.”
He silently agreed with her, but didn’t voice his opinion. “We had a good time. I didn’t read any more into it than that,” he assured her.
She took a deep breath, which made her short sweater rise an inch or so above her waistline. Enough for him to see the little silver moon and gold star in her belly button ring. Oh, boy. Was he in trouble. Despite what his lips were saying, his body wanted more than to drive around, chat and have a good time.
“Hey, my eyes are up here,” she declared. He looked away from her tempting flesh into her angry eyes.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…” He took a deep breath. “We don’t see many of those around here.”
“Waists?”
“No, those rings. Those little charms. In your belly button.” He frowned. “Didn’t that hurt?”
“Yes, but not for long. Now look, Mr. Curious. I’m sorry if I made you think I was looking for more than just some friendly time together.”
“You didn’t.” He’d come up with ideas on his own.
“I really am leaving soon,” she said softly, then caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Her bravado deflated. “It’s just…I ran into a roadblock with Claude.” Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked quickly. Then she sniffed delicately and turned away.
James put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
She hugged her arms around her middle and hurried out of the salon area, to the room where she slept. James followed, unsure if she would stop or continue out the back door.
She halted and turned. Sniffed again. “He hasn’t been able to find an engine.” She lifted her big, luminous eyes to James. “If I have to buy a new car, it’s going to take all the money I need to find an apartment and live on until I get my first paycheck, which won’t be all that much, since I’m on an internship.” She paused and sniffed yet again. “I don’t think I can get my car fixed.”
“Ah, sweetheart, please don’t cry,” he said softly, folding her in his arms. She kept her own arms firmly around her middle, so it wasn’t much of an embrace. More like a comforting hug. Poor Scarlett. Her big dreams were threatened and she was all alone.
She should have family around her, he thought fiercely. Family and friends who could help her emotionally and financially. “I know things seem bad right now, but we’ll find a way. Even if it doesn’t seem like it right now, there’s more than one answer.”
“I don’t know how,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt and jacket. “I should have paid more attention to the gauges. It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not. The car is old, right? Technically, maybe you could have noticed the gauges a few minutes earlier, but you still would have been out on a fairly deserted road.”
“Also my fault, for taking the wrong turn and deciding to drive all the way up to Oklahoma on a rural route.”
“Those kinds of things happen. Hey, you weren’t lost, were you? You knew where you were going and how to get there, didn’t you? You were very resourceful, and instead of falling apart or calling someone to come rescue you, you got a job with Clarissa. You do your best to give everyone from teenagers to senior citizens an updated style so they’ll feel better about themselves.”
“I just fix hair. I’m not a social worker,” she claimed, leaning back. She unwound her arms to wipe her eyes, which were a little smeared with some kind of eye makeup. He thought she looked adorable, which made him realize he was in way over his head.
When had Scarlett become adorable and compassionate and so…personal? Why couldn’t he have stopped at quirky and lust-inducing? He’d lost once with a woman who didn’t share his values and dreams. He wasn’t about to risk anything—his time, his heart, or his reputation—on someone who was just passing through. He’d forgotten that the other day when he’d kissed her in broad daylight, when he’d laughed about the bridge-playing ladies seeing them together. He would remember it from now on.
Just because something made you feel good temporarily didn’t mean it was good for you. Ice cream, chocolate chip cookies, alcohol and Scarlett included.
“Look, if you still want to go to Dewey’s Christmas party with Clarissa, I understand. In the meantime, I’ll check with Claude and see if we can think of alternatives.”
Scarlett patted her eyes dry and looked up. “Okay. That would be great. Just don’t do anything without my approval. I mean, with the car.”
“No, of course not. I’m just trying to be a good friend. Friends try to help out, right?”
“Right.” She frowned a little, then stepped back.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night
,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Well, I’d better get going. I’m off my lunch schedule,” he said with a slight grin that probably fell flat. Who was he trying to convince that he was in a carefree mood—himself or Scarlett?
Chapter Five
On Saturday, Scarlett’s one o’clock cut and style arrived accompanied by her hovering mother. Scarlett watched as the girl’s father dropped them off at the door. He drove a Ford F150 pickup and looked as worried as his wife.
Bemused, Scarlett adjusted her reindeer antlers, softened the spikes in her hair and pulled her long-sleeved red T-shirt down past her waist. No sense alarming the folks even more. She didn’t want the mother to swoon over a belly button ring. Or stare, as James had yesterday.
James. Darn him. He came on strong, telling her how she made him feel great, and kissing her in broad daylight, then backing away from going to the Christmas party with her as fast as his topsiders would carry him.
The frail looking girl, perhaps ten years old, stared at Scarlett with wide eyes as Clarissa smiled and pointed to a chair. The mother put a supporting arm around her as they tentatively approached.
“Hi! You must be my one o’clock appointment,” Scarlett said cheerfully. “I’m Scarlett.”
Both mother and daughter focused on her red hair.
“My name is Jennifer Wright. This is my daughter, Hailey.” The woman carefully removed a fleecy hat from Hailey’s head. “Her hair is growing back in and it’s gotten long enough to need a little trim.”
Scarlett stifled a gasp. The girl’s thin, blond hair was obviously growing back from chemotherapy. No wonder she seemed so pale and frail. Oh, poor baby. Scarlett wanted to hug the girl and tell her everything would be okay.
Which was so obviously the wrong thing to do. “Oh, it is! What a pretty color, too.”
“I like the color of your hair,” Hailey said in a surprisingly strong voice. “I love the color red, and your style is just so…phat!”
Scarlett chuckled at the compliment. “If I had pretty blond hair like yours, I’d just keep it that way forever.” That was almost true. She’d tried light blond, but her coloring wasn’t right. She’d looked like an albino Italian pixie with her light olive skin and short curls.
“Mommy, can I have red hair? My old hair was kind of reddish-blond, wasn’t it?”
“Well, yes, a very light strawberry-blond.”
“My hair grew back different. Can it be red again?”
“You can’t have red hair, Hailey. It would look odd—on you, I mean. It’s fine for Miss Scarlett.”
Scarlett laughed. “Please, just Scarlett. Otherwise, I feel as if I stepped off the set of Gone With the Wind. I’m from Atlanta, you know?”
She hunkered down so she was eye level with Hailey. “You know, your new hair is still growing in and I know it’s different. But you know what? Lots of girls and women pay a lot of money for pretty, soft blond hair like yours. I think that we should let it grow back a little more, see what it looks like by summer. If we tried to make it red right now, it would probably break and get all dull and wouldn’t be as pretty as it is now.”
“Can you fix it so it doesn’t just flop all over my head?”
“I sure can. I’ll cut it and show you how to use a gentle product to get it to behave just like you want.”
“Okay then. It doesn’t have to be red like yours.”
Scarlett looked up at Jennifer and saw her breathe a sigh of relief. The two of them shared a smile.
“Come on up here in my chair,” Scarlett said to Hailey. “Let’s take a look at your brand-new hair. How exciting, to get new hair!”
As she swirled a cape around Hailey’s thin shoulders, she noticed Venetia across the aisle, blinking back a tear.
THE CROWD AT DEWEY’S WAS in full celebration mode when James pushed his way through the door at eight o’clock Saturday night. His “date” pressed close to his back. “I’m moving as fast as I can,” he told her.
“It’s cold out here, James,” his mother complained.
Finally, he managed to close the massive, rough wood door behind them. His mother shuddered. She never could stand the cold, but wouldn’t wear the down-insulated, all-weather coat he’d gotten her last year. “I look like a sausage,” she’d told him, and gone back to her tried-and-true wool coat, thin leather gloves and plaid scarf.
At least he wasn’t that much of a slave to tradition. Tonight, for example, he’d purposefully worn a bright red plaid Western shirt with mother-of-pearl snaps, and new Levi’s. Entirely different than the button-down-collar shirts and the chinos he normally wore to the office. Plus, he’d finger-combed and shaped his hair, duplicating the style that Scarlett had intended, even exaggerating the choppy tufts a little more than she’d done.
“Oh, look,” his mother said. “There’s Ida Bell and Venetia at a table. Let’s join them.”
James escorted his mother through the happy crowd, getting some back slaps and “hellos” on the way. Apparently the Dewey’s crowd had come considerably earlier than the eight o’clock advertised time to get in prime party mode.
He greeted several friends and clients on the way to Ida and Venetia’s table. Beside them, Troy Crawford stood with his arm around his fiancée, Raven York. James had recently learned they’d planned a “destination wedding” someplace tropical next May. Troy had said something about swimming with rescued dolphins. It sounded like fun, since they didn’t have much family except Troy’s brother, Cal, who was in the military. Troy said Raven’s mother was flying down from New Hampshire for the ceremony with several of Raven’s friends.
James knew that if he were to ever remarry, he’d plan something right here in Brody’s Crossing so all his family, friends and neighbors could attend. Not that he had any plans to tie to knot. First he’d have to find a sweet, attractive and understanding woman who wanted to stay right here. No more climbing the professional or social ladder. When he and Babs had married, her family in Fort Worth had insisted on a large church wedding for three hundred of their closest friends.
At least the bride’s family had paid for that extravaganza. He didn’t have anything against his former in-laws, so he hoped his former father-in-law had at least paid off the wedding before the divorce was finalized.
“Merry Christmas, everyone,” he said once his mother had greeted their friends.
“Good to see you,” Troy said, shaking his hand. James could see him checking out his hair, but he didn’t say anything.
“I thought you might have a date,” Ida added.
“No, just my mom. Dad’s hip is acting up with all this cold weather.”
“Hmm,” Venetia said, loudly enough to be heard over the music. “You sure did try to talk someone into a date.”
All eyes turned to him for confirmation, but he just shrugged. “Let me buy a round of drinks,” he offered to change the subject.
As he looked for a waitress who could bring them cocktails, soft drinks or beer, he knew he had to talk to Scarlett sooner or later. He had some information he needed to share.
He heard the people at the table talking, heard chairs scraping on the hardwood floor, and tried to scan the smoky room for someone who could bring him a much-needed drink.
Twila came by and everyone ordered, then James found a chair and pulled it up next to Raven. “How are you enjoying your first Texas Christmas?” he asked.
“It’s very…lively,” she answered, pushing her long black hair behind her shoulder.
Troy leaned forward. “What she means is she can’t wait to get back to her quiet farm and attend a modest gathering at a quaint New Hampshire inn.”
James laughed, then let his eyes wander again. Who was he looking for this time? He was afraid he knew the answer to that one: another stranger in town. Another person who’d come west and was stuck here, at least for a while. She probably wouldn’t be around for Christmas, though, and that shouldn’t bother him as much as it did.
&nb
sp; “Why, look who’s here!” Ida exclaimed. “Clarissa, come join us!” She waved her arm. “Oh, it looks as if that new hairdresser is with her.”
“Have you met her?” James’s mother asked.
“No. She sure is different.”
“Different can be good,” Raven said, glancing at Troy.
James stood up and turned toward where Ida was waving. He took in Scarlett’s appearance with a hungry gaze and gut-clenching reaction. She wore a form-fitting, long-sleeved, white velvet top with a fake-fur neckline. Her dark, tight jeans hit just below her waistline. The little silver moon and gold star belly button ring twinkled in the Christmas lights strung along Dewey’s rough-hewn rafters. Her red hair sparkled, even in the dimly lit bar.
He thought he’d be okay with seeing her again, now that he’d convinced himself there could be nothing more than casual friendship between them.
He’d been wrong.
SCARLETT STOPPED NEXT TO the crowded table where James’s friends sat with beers, cocktails and soft drinks. Ida motioned for one of the guys to pull up a couple more chairs, which was getting difficult because of the crowd. Apparently the whole town turned out for the annual Christmas shindig.
Clarissa tugged over a chair and squeezed in between Venetia and Ida. That left Scarlett to sit by James and a very pretty woman with a pale complexion and long black hair. His date? But no, when she leaned toward the man beyond and smiled, Scarlett felt herself relax.
This was not a good reaction. She shouldn’t care if James had a date, since Scarlett had turned down his invitation.
With a sigh, she took her seat.
“Everyone,” Clarissa said in a loud voice, “in case you haven’t met her, this is Scarlett. She’s working at the salon for a while.”
“Scarlett, do you know Troy Crawford and Raven York?” James asked.
Texan for the Holidays Page 6