“A man ought to know the name of his future wife.”
Wasn’t this one bold. And so young. “You don’t know me yet, handsome. Maybe I’m not the kind of gal you take home to meet your mama.”
His neck went blotchy red, and Josephine suffered a ping of guilt for being so blunt. She suspected he was more untried than he let on. He’d been in the chair five minutes and hadn’t once gone for the “accidental” body graze.
“My mama’s gone,” he said. “But my daddy’d like you.”
She chuckled. “I’ll just bet he would, sugar.”
He kept on, trying his best to impress her, but Josephine toned it down. Even if he caught her—which was never going to happen—she suspected he wouldn’t quite know what to do with her.
She chatted him up as she trimmed his golden-brown hair. He hardly even needed a trim, but she’d had a couple of those this week. Curiosity, she supposed. All the single men checking her out. As long as it kept customers in her chair, Josephine was just fine with that. And if a little flirting kept them coming back, she was happy to oblige.
In the barbershop lobby Noah flipped blindly through the pages of Blue Ridge Country, his ears tuned to the conversation beyond the trifold partition. Even if he hadn’t recognized the blue Ford truck out front he’d have known Bryce Collins’s voice. He was a good kid, nearly ten years Noah’s junior, but he was giving it his best shot with the new gal in town.
Good luck with that, he thought, shifting on the old church pew that served as waiting-room seating. He’d yet to lay eyes on Copper Creek’s newest resident, but he’d heard she was quite the looker. And, if she was twenty-six as rumored, closer to his own age than Bryce’s. The boy’s mama would roll over in her grave at his forwardness.
As for Noah, he was only looking for a trim. He already had his share of dates, and he wasn’t ready to settle down, much to his mother’s dismay. He was just glad not to have to drive to Ellijay for a haircut anymore.
He ran a hand over his hair. He was recently returned from a short stint in the marines, but his “high and tight” had long since grown out. Nothing much had changed around here while he’d been gone, but he kind of liked that. He’d needed the time away to grow up and decide if Copper Creek and the family business was really what he wanted. He’d come home more certain than ever that it was.
The conversation continued in the next room, and Noah found himself drawn by the woman’s low, sultry voice. He wasn’t sure about her styling skills, but she sure had the womanly wiles thing going for her. Poor kid didn’t stand a chance.
Though her manner was Southern flirtatious, he detected an edge of cynicism in her laughter, in her quick responses. Cynicism was a protective mechanism—he knew this firsthand from his granny. Tell yourself people can’t be trusted, then you won’t be disappointed when they let you down.
His curiosity about the new gal was growing. What had put that jaded note in her tone, he wondered.
It wasn’t a mystery why she’d gone into the barber business. He had yet to test her styling ability, but it didn’t matter much. As long as she didn’t leave her customers bald, she’d keep a full clientele with those people skills alone.
The buzz of the clippers stopped, followed by the ripping sound of Velcro. “There you go, hon.”
“Looks great, Josephine. I’ll definitely be back.”
“You tell your friends to come on by now. I give 10 percent off for referrals.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Bryce came around the partition, a silly grin on his face, fishing his wallet from his back pocket. His eyes locked on Noah, and his ears went instantly red. “What’s going on, Noah?”
“Not much. Just finished up for the day. How’s your daddy doing? Haven’t seen him in a few weeks.”
“Aw, he’s good enough. Busy with work mostly.”
The boy kept talking, but just then the new stylist came around the partition. She fixed her blue eyes—twin pools of heaven—on Noah, and he went blind and deaf to everything else.
Her red lips curved into a lazy smile. “Be right with you, hon.”
“No hurry,” Noah croaked, his throat suddenly dry. His eyes swept down her slender curves before she disappeared behind the counter.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she rang up Bryce. She had shoulder-length blond hair that was tousled artfully around her pretty face.
Though pretty didn’t do her justice. Her creamy skin was almost pale against her lush lips. She hadn’t given in to the tanning craze that the rest of the country had taken to, and it suited her. Long, dark lashes fanned against her cheeks as she reached into the drawer.
No wonder poor Bryce was smitten. She was a bombshell. A siren. Even her movements—the knowing toss of her chin, the confident sway of her hips—exuded raw sexuality. But it was her eyes that stopped him cold. A pale ice-blue, they somehow seemed years older than the rest of her. There were secrets behind those eyes, and suddenly he wanted to know them all.
Josephine aimed another smile his way. “I’ll be right quick. Just give me a minute to sweep up.”
Noah realized Bryce had left. The glass door was still falling shut beside him, and the jingling bells over the door played back in his memory. He couldn’t even recall if he’d given the boy a proper good-bye.
He tried to remember everything he’d heard about her. Paul Truvy was her father, and he’d left her his estate when he passed away last fall. She’d come up in the early spring from Cartersville, where she’d worked in a salon, to open her own barbershop.
She’d given Beamus Jenkins, the town drunk, a free haircut after hours on her first Saturday open, and he’d shown up in church the next morning for the first time in twenty years. There was probably more going around, but Noah wasn’t one to gossip.
His family’s construction company had bid on phase one of the small renovation project that got her business up and running. His brother, Seth, had quoted the project; he remembered the file lying around the office. A competitor got the job though.
He looked around the lobby. The place still needed a lot of work, from what he could see from here. The original wood floors needed refurbishing, and the trifold partition that separated the lobby wasn’t enough. She was losing air through the front door. It would be a major problem once the sweltering summer weather arrived.
He’d put up a pony wall that went up about three-quarters of the way to the ceiling. And he’d sand the floor just enough to remove the old stain, but leave the scars and character of the wood. An espresso color would be a nice contrast with the old brick wall to his right.
Josephine reappeared around the trifold. “Come on back, hon.”
His dopey heart leaped in his chest at the endearment. He got up and followed her to the chair, racking his brain for something to say. But he felt like he’d been clobbered in the head with a two-by-four.
His eyes were working just fine though. Josephine was petite, he noticed, now that he was on his feet. At least nine inches under his own six-foot-one frame. Square shoulders, slender waist. Curves like a mountain road.
He took a seat in the chair and met her eyes in the mirror.
His voice seemed lodged in his throat. What the heck was wrong with him? Maybe he wasn’t a smooth-talking devil, but he never got tongue-tied. Noah mentally gave Bryce credit for keeping it together. It was more than he was doing.
“I’m Josephine Dupree.” She swung the black cape around him.
“Noah Mitchell.”
“Pleased to meet you, Noah.” She set her hands on his shoulders, and he felt the touch clear down to his toes. “What are you looking for today?”
He jerked his eyes from her reflection and stared at his own. “Need about an inch and a half off.” His voice cracked like he was seventeen. Heat crawled up in his neck as he cleared his throat. “It’s been awhile.”
She swiveled his chair around, and he suddenly remembered that he’d signed in for a wash too. He re
gretted it now. Especially when she lowered the back of his chair and leaned over him, putting her generous curves up close and personal.
His heart beat up into his swollen throat as he closed his eyes. And that’s when he became aware of her smell. Sweet, with a hint of spice. Intoxicating.
The water came on, and her fingers threaded through his hair, followed by a rush of warm water. His pulse jumped, and he worked to steady his breath. His body was humming like a tuning fork.
Get a grip, Mitchell.
“You have real nice hair,” she said in that smoky voice. “Lot of men would kill for a thick head of hair like yours.”
His mouth worked. What was he supposed to say to that? Thanks? You too? While he pondered his response, the seconds ticked away until it was too late to say anything at all. She probably thought he was addle-brained.
She raked her fingers through his hair as she wet it. His heart pummeled his rib cage, and a shiver passed down the back of his neck. Jeez O’ Pete. You’d think you’d never been touched by a woman before.
He shifted in the chair.
“Too hot?”
He cleared his throat. “Um, no. It’s fine.” Four words. You’re on a roll, buddy.
The water shut off, and her fingers began working the shampoo into his hair.
He kept his eyes closed, letting her smell assault his senses. He could feel the heat from her as she leaned close to reach the back of his head. Her breath brushed the hair at his temples, making every soapy cell follicle sit up straight.
The water finally kicked on again, and she began rinsing away the suds. Almost done. He realized his hands were balled into fists. He relaxed them, wiping his sweaty palms down his thighs.
When she turned off the water, he waited for the towel, needing some space. But instead her fingers began working through his hair again, and a pleasant musky smell mingled with her perfume.
“Doesn’t this stuff smell like heaven? It’s my favorite. It’ll leave your hair feeling like silk too.”
“Smells great.”
“How’d you hear about my shop?”
“Uh, word of mouth, I guess. You’d just bought the place when I returned from serving overseas.”
“Well, thank you for your service, Noah. Which branch?”
“Marines. Actually, my family’s company bid on your renovation. Mitchell Home Improvement.”
She worked her fingers at the base of his neck in a mini-massage that was just about the best thing he’d ever felt. He swallowed hard, wanting to lean into her touch and scramble from the chair all at the same time.
“Oh, sorry ’bout that. Sawyers was a little lower, and I’m having to watch every penny.”
“They’re a good company. Good folks.”
“I’m taking bids on the next phase. One of your guys is working up an estimate for me. Billy, I think his name was. I’m on a pretty tight budget, what with just getting started up.”
She turned on the water and began rinsing out the conditioner.
He suddenly wanted that job more than he wanted his next breath. These days he mostly handled the bigger projects. They had several capable crews, and there was always a lot to do in the office too. But he was tempted to take a hands-on approach with this one—so to speak.
“I’ll take a look at the bid. See what I can do.”
“Well, aren’t you nice. I’m looking to get started as soon as possible. One chair isn’t going to keep me in business long.”
“You’re wanting to expand?”
“Yes, sir. I got some secondhand chairs and sinks from a shop that went out of business in Atlanta. Plus the floor needs some work, and I need a wall or two put up.”
“Looks like the ceiling up front sprang a leak at some point.”
“That’s from my bathroom upstairs. The leak’s fixed, but the ceiling needs repaired.”
“You’re living up there?” That apartment had been closed up for years. He couldn’t imagine what kind of condition it was in.
“For the time being.” She shut off the water and blotted his hair with a towel before sitting him up in the chair. “To be honest, based on the one bid I already got, I’m probably going to have to work out some kind of deal.”
Vivid visions of moonlight kisses flashed in his mind. He blinked them away. “What kind of deal?”
She pumped up the chair, then ruffled his head with the towel, soaking up the rest of the water. Moving to his side, she dragged a comb through his hair. “I was thinking I could lend a hand. You know, during the evenings and on my day off.”
“You mean . . . with the construction?”
She paused, her eyes locked on his, glinting with amusement. “I’m good for more than just standing here looking pretty, you know.”
Heat flooded into his cheeks. “I didn’t mean . . .”
Her chuckle was low and sultry, and her eyes arched into half-moons. “Relax, sugar. I’m no handyman, but I know a flathead from a Phillips. And I’m a quick study. I was hoping an extra set of hands might help offset the cost a bit.”
She leaned closer as she gathered up his bangs, bringing her intoxicating scent with her. “You think you might be open to something like that?”
He’d like to meet the man that wouldn’t be.
Still, from a business perspective, he’d be a fool to agree. All manner of things could go wrong. She’d probably end up slowing him down. No doubt she’d be as distracting as all get out. And that didn’t even address the issue of insurance.
But he looked into her guarded eyes as she snipped his hair, focusing on her task. There was more to her than met the eye. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Josephine Dupree, and he couldn’t think of a better way to learn. If that made him a fool, so be it.
“I’d definitely consider that,” he said. And your smile will do for a down payment.
“Glad to hear it.”
Noah took advantage of her focus on her work to examine her at leisure. Even up close her porcelain skin was flawless. Her dark lashes were ridiculously long and curled. Delicate eyebrows arched mischievously over almond-shaped eyes. His gaze dropped to her full red lips. Perfection itself.
Oh yeah. Come hell or high water, he was getting this job.
Chapter 4
Sweetbriar Ranch
Present day
Noah opened Rango’s stall and led him toward the grooming area. The horse’s breath fogged the air, though it was almost midday. A bank of clouds obscured the sunlight, and the scent of pine hung heavily in the air.
Rango nickered softly. Brushing ranked right up there with eating where this horse was concerned. Noah led the paint into the stall and released the lead. “Stand.”
All the horses at Sweetbriar Ranch were trained to ground-tie. Rango was fairly new though, and still had a tendency to wander.
He began brushing the horse’s black-and-white coat. “Got yourself into some burrs, huh? Sometimes I think you do it on purpose, big fella.”
Rango sighed. The rest of the horses, eleven of them, were already fed, checked, and in the pasture. If it got much colder, he’d have to put their coats on.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he checked the screen. Finally. He’d called the courthouse at ten on the dot this morning and had been waiting for them to check their records and get back with him.
“Mitchell here.”
“Hi, Mr. Mitchell, this is Cheryl from the courthouse.”
“Hi, Cheryl. Thanks for getting back to me so fast. What’d you find out?”
“Well, I did a record search and found out you’re exactly right—your divorce never went through. I’m afraid you’re still married.”
His pulse jumped. “Still married,” he muttered to himself. No matter how many times he had the thought it didn’t seem to sink in all the way.
“Afraid so. It’s still pending though, so that’s good. Just a matter of getting freshly dated papers and signatures. Your next step would be to contact your at
torney.”
“Will do. Thanks so much, Cheryl.”
“You’re welcome. Have a good day, now.”
Noah wasted no time. He got hold of Joe, who promised him a freshly printed divorce decree by the end of the day. Noah thanked him and hung up.
Tomorrow he’d go into town and pick up the papers, sign them, have Josephine sign them, and drop them back off.
No, not tomorrow, he thought as he mentally reviewed his schedule. He was meeting with a potential boarder in the afternoon, then the chiropractor was coming to work on a couple of the horses.
And Wednesday afternoon he was meeting with Mary Beth to go over the summer camp schedule. Plus, there was cold rain and wind coming in from a big storm system sweeping over the area. He’d need to get the horses stabled before it hit. He wouldn’t have time to drive all the way into town. His sigh came from deep inside. Thursday, provided the weather cooperated, he had two trail-riding groups in the afternoon.
He wouldn’t be able to get down the mountain until Friday. A complicated mix of emotions washed over him. It was so bizarre to think he and Josephine were still married.
Not for long though. By next week, if the judge were merciful, all this would be over. Except for the taxes. He’d have to refile those, and he’d need Walt’s help. This was just getting better and better.
He looked up the number for Josephine’s Barbershop on his phone and dialed, hoping she was too busy to answer. For once things worked in his favor. Her low drawl came on the line, giving instructions to leave a message, and his mind went back to Saturday when he’d gone to confront her at her shop.
She hadn’t changed a lick, in looks or manner. Still flirted her way through life, trampling hearts along the way. Some small part of him—the part that remembered her tender heart for the needy and the raw vulnerability she hid so well—protested the thought. But he quieted that voice. He didn’t want to like Josephine anymore.
A beep sounded in his ear, and his abrupt tone came naturally. “It’s me. Just got off the phone with the courthouse and everything’s still . . . pending. Joe’s drawing up the papers today. I can’t come into town till Friday afternoon, so you need to get over there and sign them sometime this week.” He hung up, not bothering with a good-bye.
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