“Maybe I’ll just do it myself,” she said, thinking out loud. How hard could it be? All she needed was a screwdriver and maybe a drill.
This time when he laughed, it was definitely at her. “I’ll send over a subcontractor in the next few days.”
Delaney looked up at him then. Up past his chin, his full sensuous mouth, and cool gaze. She didn’t trust him. His offer was too nice. “Why would you do that for me?”
“Suspicious?”
“Very.”
He shrugged. “A person could easily crawl through the vents from one building to the other.”
“I knew your offer wasn’t made out of the kindness of your heart.”
He leaned forward and planted his hands on the wall beside her head. “You know me so well.”
His big body blocked the sunlight, but she refused to feel intimidated. “What’s it going to cost me?”
A wicked smile lit his eyes. “Whatcha got?”
Okay, she refused to show him that he intimidated her. She lifted her chin a little. “Twenty bucks?”
“Not enough.”
Trapped within his arms, she could hardly breathe. A thin slice of air separated her mouth from his. He was so close she could smell the scent of shaving cream still clinging to his skin. She had to turn her face away. “Forty?” she asked, her voice all squeaky and breathless.
“Uh-uh.” He touched his index finger to her cheek and brought her gaze back to his. “I don’t want your money.”
“What do you want?”
His eyes moved to her mouth and she thought he would kiss her. “I’ll think of something,” he said and pushed away from the wall.
Delaney took a deep breath and watched him disappear into the building next door. She was afraid to think of what that something might be.
* * *
The next day at work, she made a sign offering free nail polish with a weave or color. No takers, but she did spray Mrs. Vaughn’s gray hair into the shape of a helmet. Laverne Vaughn had taught grade school in Truly until she’d been forced to retire in the late seventies.
Evidently, Wannetta had been true to her word. She told her friends about Delaney. Mrs. Vaughn paid ten dollars, wanted her senior citizen discount, and demanded a free bottle of polish. Delaney took the sign down.
Friday she shampooed and styled another of Wannetta’s friends, and Saturday, Mrs. Stokesberry dropped off two wigs to be cleaned. One white for everyday wear, the other black for special occasions. She picked them up three hours later, and insisted on placing the white wig on her own head.
“You give a senior citizen discount, right?” she asked as she pulled at the hair about her ears.
“Yes.” Delaney sighed, wondering why she was putting up with so much crap from so many people. Her mother, the gray-haired ladies, and Nick. Especially Nick. The answer came to her like the ringing of her cash register. Three million dollars. She could put up with a lot for three million big ones.
As soon as the woman left, Delaney closed the salon early and went to visit her friends Duke and Dolores. The dogs trembled with excitement as they licked her cheeks. At last, friendly faces. She rested her forehead on Duke’s neck and tried not to cry. She failed, just as she was failing with the salon. She hated finger waves and spraying hair into domes. She really hated washing and styling wigs. Most of all, she hated not doing what she loved. And what Delaney loved was making ordinary women look extraordinary. She loved the sound of blow-dryers, the tempo of rapid snipping, and the smell of dyes and perming solutions. She’d loved her life before she’d come back to Truly for Henry’s funeral. She’d had friends and a job she loved.
Seven months and fifteen days, she told herself. Seven months and then she could move anywhere she wanted. She rose to her feet and reached for the dogs’ leashes.
Half an hour later, she returned from walking the dogs and put them back in their pen. She was just about to open her car door when Gwen stepped outside.
“Can you stay for dinner?” her mother asked, wrapping a beige angora sweater around her shoulders.
“No.”
“I’m sorry I had to leave your party early.”
Delaney fished her keys from her pocket. Usually she bit her tongue and held it all inside, but she wasn’t in the mood. “No, I don’t think you are.”
“Of course I am. Why would you say such a thing to me?”
She looked at her mother, at her blue eyes and blond hair cut in a classic bob. “I don’t know,” she answered, deciding to back down from an argument she would lose anyway. “I’ve had a crappy day. I’ll come to dinner tomorrow night if you want.”
“I have plans for tomorrow night.”
“Monday then,” Delaney said as she slid into her car. She waved good-bye, and as soon as she’d returned to her apartment, she called Lisa. “Are you free tonight?” she asked when her friend picked up. “I need a drink, maybe two.”
“Louie’s working late, so I can meet you for a while.”
“Why don’t we meet at Hennesey’s? A blues band is playing there later tonight.”
“Okay, but I’ll probably leave before they start.”
Delaney was a little disappointed, but she was used to being alone. After she hung up the telephone, she took a shower then dressed in a green belly sweater and a pair of jeans. She fluffed her hair, applied her makeup, and put on her Doc Marten’s and leather jacket to walk the three blocks to Hennesey’s. By the time she arrived, it was six-thirty and the bar was filled with the after-work crowd.
Hennesey’s was a fair-sized bar, with the top level looking down on the lower. The tables on both levels were crowded together, and a portable stage had been set up on the large dance floor. For now, the lights inside the bar blazed and the dance floor was empty. Later, that would all change.
Delaney took a table near the end of the bar and was on her first beer when Lisa arrived. She took one look at her friend and raised a finger from her glass and pointed at Lisa’s ponytail. “You should let me cut your hair.”
“No way.” Lisa ordered a Miller Lite, then turned her attention back to Delaney. “Remember what you did to Brigit?”
“Brigit who?”
“The doll my Great-grandmother Stolfus gave me. You cut off her long gold ringlets and made her look like Cyndi Lauper. I’ve been traumatized ever since.”
“I promise you won’t look like Cyndi Lauper. I’ll even do it for free.”
“I’ll think about it.” Lisa’s beer arrived and she paid the waitress. “I ordered the bridesmaid dresses today. When they get here you’ll have to come to my house for a final fitting.”
“Am I going to look like a tour guide on a Southern plantation?”
“No. The dresses are a wine-colored stretch velvet. Just a real simple A line so you don’t draw attention away from the bride.”
Delaney took a sip of beer and smiled. “I couldn’t do that anyway, but you really should think about letting me do your hair for the big day. It’ll be fun.”
“Maybe I’ll let you do a braid or something.” Lisa took a drink. “I booked the caterer for the wedding dinner.”
When the subject of Lisa’s wedding was exhausted, conversation turned to Delaney’s business.
“How is your salon doing these days?”
“Crappy. I had one customer, Mrs. Stokesberry. She dropped off her wig, and I shampooed it like it was a roadkill poodle.”
“Cool job.”
“Tell me about it.”
Lisa took a drink then said, “I don’t want to make you feel worse, but I drove by Helen’s Hair Hut today. She looked fairly busy.”
Delaney frowned into her beer. “I’ve got to do something to steal her business.”
“Do a giveaway. People love to get something for nothing.”
She’d tried that already with the fingernail polish. “I need to advertise,” she said, silently contemplating her options.
“Maybe you should do a little show or something at Soph
ie’s school. Cut some hair, get some of those girls looking good. Then all the other girls will want you to cut their hair, too.”
“And their mothers will have to keep bringing them back.” Delaney sipped her beer, and thought about the possibilities.
“Don’t look now, but Wes and Scooter Finley just walked in.” Lisa raised her hand to the side of her face as a shield. “Don’t make eye contact or they’ll come over.”
Delaney shielded her face also, but looked through her fingers. “They’re just as ugly as I remember.”
“Just as stupid, too.”
Delaney had graduated with the Finley brothers. They weren’t twins, just repeat offenders. Wes and Scooter were two shades darker than albino with spooky pale eyes. “Do they still think they’re chick magnets?”
Lisa nodded. “Go figure.” When the Finley threat had passed, Lisa lowered her hand and pointed toward two men standing at the bar. “What do you think, boxers or briefs?”
Delaney took one look at their shirts with the big red Chevron logo, their Achy Breaky hair, and said, “Briefs. White. Fruit of the Loom.”
“What about the guy third from the end?”
The man was tall, rail thin, with perfectly layered hair. The yellow sweater tied around his neck told Delaney he was either new in town or a man of great courage. Only a very brave man would walk the streets of Truly with a sweater of any color, let alone yellow, tied around his neck. “Thong, I think. He’s very daring.” Delaney took a drink of her beer and turned her attention to the door.
“Cotton or silk?”
“Silk. Now it’s your turn.”
The two women turned and stared at the door, waiting for their next victim to walk through. He entered less than a minute later, looking as good as Delaney remembered. Tommy Markham’s brown hair still curled about his ears and neck. He was still lean rather than beefy, and when his gaze landed on Delaney, his smile was still as charming as a wayward boy’s. The kind of smile that could make a woman forgive him almost anything.
“You’re driving my wife crazy. You know that don’t you?” he said as he approached their table.
Delaney looked up into Tommy’s blue eyes and placed an innocent hand on her chest. “Me?” There had been a time when the sight of his long lashes had made her heart flutter. She couldn’t help the smile curving her mouth, but her heart was just fine. “What have I done?”
“You moved back.”
Good, she thought. Helen had spent their whole childhood needling Delaney, driving her crazy.
Turnabout was certainly fair play. “So, where is the old ball and chain anyway?”
He laughed and sat in the chair next to her. “She and the kids went to a wedding in Challis. They’ll be back tomorrow sometime.”
“Why didn’t you go?” Lisa asked him.
“I have to work in the morning.”
Delaney looked across the table at her friend, who was doing the “he’s married” signal with her eyes. Delaney grinned. Lisa had nothing to worry about. She didn’t sleep with married men-ever. But Helen wouldn’t know that. Let her worry.
Nick hung up the telephone and rolled his chair backward. The fluorescent lighting hummed overhead, and a smiled played across his lips as he looked out the plate glass window. The sun had set and his own reflection stared back at him. Everything was coming together. He had three contractors jumping to invest venture capital with him, and he was in the process of talking to several lenders.
He tossed his pencil onto the desk in front of him, then ran his fingers through the side of his hair. Half the town of Truly was going to shit bricks when they learned of his plans for Silver Creek. The other half was going to love it.
When he and Louie had decided to move the company to Truly, they’d known the older residents of the town would resist development and growth of any kind. But like Henry, those people were dying off and being replaced by a whole influx of yuppies. Depending on whom you listened to, the Allegrezza boys were either businessmen or land rapers. They were loved or hated. But then, they always had been.
He stood and stretched his arms over his head. The specifications for a nine-hole golf course and the blueprints for fifty-four two-thousand-square-foot condominiums lay before him. Even with a conservative projected budget, Allegrezza Construction stood to make a fortune. And that was just the first stage of development. The second stage was bound to make even more money, with million-dollar houses built within spitting distance of the green. Now all Nick needed was clear deed to the forty acres Henry had bequeathed him. In June he’d have it.
Nick smiled into the empty office. He’d made his first million building everything from starter houses to lavish homes in Boise, but a guy could always use spare cash.
He grabbed his bomber’s jacket off the coat tree and headed out the back. After he finished with his plans for Silver Creek, he would think about what he wanted to build at Angel Beach. Or maybe he wouldn’t build on it at all. He paused long enough to switch off the lights before locking the door behind him. His Harley Fat Boy sat in the space next to Delaney’s Miata. He glanced up at her apartment, and the green door illuminated by a weak light. What a hole.
He could understand why she’d want to move from her mother’s house. He couldn’t be around Gwen for three seconds without wanting to choke her. But what he didn’t understand was why Delaney had chosen to move into such a dump. He knew Henry’s will provided her with a monthly income, and he knew she could afford a better place. It wouldn’t take much for a man to kick the damn door off the hinges.
When he got the time, he still planned to replace the locks on her shop. But Delaney herself wasn’t his problem. Where she lived or what she chose to wear didn’t concern him. If she wanted to live in a little hole and wear a strip of vinyl that barely covered her ass, that was her problem. He didn’t give a damn. He was sure he wouldn’t give her more than a passing thought if she weren’t living practically on top of him.
Swinging one leg over the Harley, he righted the bike. If he’d seen any other woman in that skimpy vinyl crap, he would have appreciated the hell out of it, but not Delaney. Seeing her shrink-wrapped tighter than a deli snack had made him itch to peel back the plastic and take a bite. He’d gone from zero to hard in about three seconds.
He kicked the stand up with the heel of his boot and pressed the ignition button. The v-twin engine roared to life, shattered the still night air, and vibrated his thighs. Getting hard for a woman he wasn’t planning on taking to bed didn’t bother him. Getting hard over that particular woman did.
He gunned the bike and shot down the alley, barely slowing as he turned onto First. He felt restless and was home only long enough to take a shower. The silence set him on edge, and he didn’t know why. He needed a diversion, a distraction, and he ended up at Hennesey’s with a beer in his hand and Lonna Howell in his lap.
His table looked out onto the dance floor, pitched in darkness and filled with slow shifting bodies, moving to the sensual rhythm and languid blues flowing from five-foot speakers. Slivers of light shone on the band and several rows of track lighting illuminated the front of the bar. But mostly the tavern was as dark as sin so a person could get away with sinful things.
Nick didn’t have any particular sin planned, but the night was still young and Lonna was more than willing.
Chapter Six
Delaney locked her fingers behind her old boyfriend’s neck and moved with him to the slow pulse of blues guitar. Being so close to Tommy again felt a little like deja vu, only different because the arms holding her now belonged to a man, not a boy. As a boy he’d had no rhythm, he still didn’t. Back then, he’d always smelled like Irish Spring soap. Now he wore cologne, not the fresh scent she’d always associated with him. He’d been her first love. He’d made her heart pound and her pulse race. She felt neither of those things now.
“Remind me again,” he spoke next to Delaney’s ear, “why can’t we be friends?”
“Because
your wife hates me.”
“Oh, yeah.” He pulled her a little closer, but kept his hands on the small of her back. “But I like you.”
His shameless flirting had started an hour ago, right after Lisa had left. He’d propositioned her twice, but was so charming about it, she couldn’t get angry with him. He made her laugh and made her forget that he’d broken her heart by choosing Helen.
“Why wouldn’t you sleep with me in high school?” he asked.
She’d wanted to-really wanted to. She’d been madly in love and filled with the juices of raging teen hormones. But overpowering her desire for Tommy had been the terror that her mother and Henry would find out she’d been with a boy. “You dumped me.”
“No. You dumped me.”
“Only after I caught you boffing Helen.”
“Oh, yeah.”
She pulled back far enough to look into his face, barely visible on the darkened dance floor. His laughter joined hers when she said, “That was horrible.”
“It sucked. I always felt really bad about what happened, but I never knew what I should say to you after that,” he confessed. “I knew what I wanted to say, but I didn’t think you’d like it.”
“What?”
His teeth flashed white in the murky light. “That I was sorry you caught me ‘boffing’ Helen, but could we still go out anyway?”
There had been a time when she’d written his name all over her notebooks, when she’d envisioned living the picket-fence dream with Tommy Markham.
“Would you have gone for it?”
“No,” she answered, truly grateful he wasn’t her husband.
He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “That’s what I remember the most about you. The word ‘no’,” he said against her skin. The music stopped and he pulled back and smiled into her face. “I’m glad you’re back.” He escorted her to the table and grabbed his jacket. “See ya around.”
Delaney watched him leave and reached for the beer she’d left on the table. As she raised the bottle to her lips, she lifted her hair from her neck with her free hand. Tommy hadn’t changed much since high school. He was still good-looking. Still charming and still a hound. She almost felt sorry for Helen-almost.
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