Colton's Christmas Baby

by Karen Whiddon

  “That’s why you joined my mother’s quilting group?”

  “Yes. And I haven’t actually joined yet. I’m still trying to get up the nerve to go to a meeting.”

  Really? Maisie Colton, frightened of something? “What are you afraid of?”

  Taking a deep breath, Maisie met Eve’s gaze, unsmiling. “Those other women don’t like me much.”

  Eve didn’t know what to say. Maisie had spoken the truth and to try and dilute that with platitudes or reassurance would only undermine it. Still, she had to say something.

  “Do you know how to quilt?”

  “No.” Maisie brightened. “But your mother promised to teach me. I want to make a quilt for my son, sort of an heirloom thing.”

  Touched, despite herself, Eve nodded. “And you came here because you want me to help you figure out how to get along with all those women?”

  “No.” Maisie Colton shook her head, sending her wayward hair flying. “I came here because I want you to cut my hair.”

  Then, while Eve was still reeling from this shocking news, Maisie made a scissoring motion with her fingers, right below her chin. “I want it cut short. Very short.”

  Still staring, Eve swallowed. “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.” Stalking over to Eve’s chair, Maisie sat. “Let’s get busy. You’ve got to get me finished before your next client comes in.”

  True. Shaking out the vinyl cape, Eve draped it around Maisie’s shoulders. “Let’s get you shampooed.”

  Maisie’s hair was thick and lustrous, much like her brother’s. Eve shampooed and rinsed and wrapped her in a towel, before leading her back to the chair and combing her out. “Now tell me what kind of a haircut you want.”

  Maisie grinned. “I’ll do better. I’ll show you.” She grabbed her purse, rummaging inside and finally pulling out a folded square that had obviously been taken from a magazine. “Here you go. It’s Rihanna. A pixie crop with a sweeping fringe.”

  “So it is.” Eve glanced from the picture to Maisie. “You do realize this will involve me cutting off at least six inches?”

  “Sure.”

  Relentlessly determined, Eve continued. “And you’ll have to use styling products and a flat iron after you blow-dry?”

  “I already do. Let’s go for it.”

  “Fine.” Eve grabbed her scissors and began. She couldn’t help but wince as the long locks fell to the floor. “Does your brother know you’re doing this?”

  “Which brother?”

  “Any of them,” Eve said, refining her cut around the back. “Wes, Finn, Brand, Perry, Duke or Damien.”

  “No. But then I’m not in the habit of consulting my brothers before I get a new haircut.” Taking a deep breath, Maisie closed her eyes. “He was with you last night, wasn’t he?”

  Eve was so busy snipping away that Maisie’s words barely registered. “Who?”

  “My brother. Damien.”

  Eve nearly cut off a huge swath of Maisie’s silky hair. Accidentally, of course. “Ummm, maybe,” she said hesitantly. “Why?”

  Maisie opened her eyes. “I just want to know what your intentions are toward him.”

  Dumbfounded, Eve met the other woman’s gaze in the mirror. “My intentions?”

  “Yes. Damien’s fragile. He doesn’t really know how to react to the regular world. He’s only been out a few months.”

  “Fragile. Huh.” Resuming cutting, Eve couldn’t seem to get past repeating parts of Maisie’s words. “I think you should ask him.”

  “I tried.” Pouting, Maisie sounded disgruntled. “He told me what he did in his spare time was none of my business.”

  Relieved, Eve began to shape the hair at the side of Maisie’s face. “He’s right, you know.”

  “Maybe. But someone has to look out for him. No one else will, so it might as well be me.”

  This struck Eve as both touching and funny, for some reason. The image of Damien hiding behind his slender and glamorous sister made her want to laugh. Her mouth twitched, but she succeeded in holding it in.

  Almost.

  “Don’t laugh,” Maisie complained. “I’m serious.”

  “I understand.” Brandishing her scissors high, Eve smiled. “Did it ever occur to you not to shock the woman who’s cutting your hair?”

  Maisie’s perfectly made-up eyes widened. “You wouldn’t,” she breathed.

  “No, of course not. I was just trying to get you to lighten up.” She shook her head. “I’m a professional. Plus, I’d like you to come back. I know if I do a good job, you might.”

  Finally, Maisie’s shoulders relaxed. “I was tense, wasn’t I? I’m sorry. I try so hard, but I’ve never really gotten along with other women.”

  That was the understatement of the year.

  The jingle bells signaled the arrival of Lacy’s client. Emerging from the back room, Lacy did a double take to see Eve cutting Maisie Colton’s hair. Eve shot her a warning look and the other stylist went to collect her customer, who also stared hard at Maisie. The news that Maisie Colton had gotten her hair cut at Eve’s Salon Allegra would be all over town before the end of the day.

  Finishing the cut, Eve sprayed Maisie’s hair with a root booster and began blow-drying, showing the other woman how to style with a roller brush, then using a flat iron.

  When she’d finished, she stepped back to survey the results before turning Maisie around to face the mirror.

  “This might just be the perfect haircut for you,” she said, letting Maisie see.

  “Wow!” Maisie breathed, turning her head this way and that. “It looks really good.” She shook her head, experimenting. “My head feels really light. I never realized how heavy all that hair was.”

  Removing the cape, Eve smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

  After Maisie had paid and left, Eve checked her watch. Mrs. Peterson, her next customer, was late. As she was walking to check her appointment desk, the phone rang. It was Mrs. Peterson, canceling. Which meant Eve had an entire hour before Damien was due to arrive for his haircut. She went in the back to put her feet up and, she hoped, take a catnap.

  She’d actually dozed off when the sound of the bells woke her. Peeking out front, she saw that Lacy’s client had left. And the second she did, Lacy hurried back and plopped down into the chair next to Eve. “Tell me, tell me everything.”

  Covering her mouth while she yawned, Eve found herself feeling oddly defensive on Maisie’s behalf. “Tell you what? There’s nothing to tell. She wanted a haircut. I gave her one. That’s what I’m in business for, right?”

  Lacy looked unconvinced. “Well, yeah. But Maisie Colton never stoops to having her hair cut here. You know as well as I do that she always goes to Billings. We’re not sophisticated enough for her.”

  “Maisie Colton is trying to change.”

  Lacy opened her mouth to argue when the bells jingled again.

  Glancing at the clock, Eve stood. “My next client.” She wondered if she should warn Lacy, then decided not to. It would be fun to see her face.

  “Mine should be here any minute, too.” Lacy would surely get her second shock of the day.

  Usually having sex put Damien in a good mood, freed his pent-up tension and relaxed him. Not this time. The entire weekend, he’d been tense and restless, unable to stop thinking about Friday night and making love with Eve. Already he’d wanted her again; he’d reached for her first thing when he woke on Saturday morning. He’d never done that before and it worried him.

  The rest of the weekend hadn’t been any better. He’d wanted her at odd moments during the day. In fact, he’d had to force himself not to go to the Corner Bar on Saturday night, not wanting Eve to think he needed more than she was willing to give.

  Evidently he hadn’t gotten her out of his system yet.

  Sunday and Monday had both been much of the same. He’d kept himself busy, rising at the crack of dawn and saddling up to ride out in the early-morning chill. He and his gelding had slog
ged through snow, keeping an eye out for any straggling cattle, and watching the sun come up over the mountains.

  Days like these made him wonder how he could ever leave Montana or this ranch. The land was in his blood, as vital to him as fresh air. Sometimes he thought if he had the land, a horse and a few hundred head of cattle, he wouldn’t need anything else.

  Except sex, he amended. Again, he thought of Eve and shifted in the saddle. She could easily become an addiction. He craved her, craved the feel and scent of her, the satiny smoothness of her skin.

  Again, he was struck by a sharp sense of need. Eve. No, he told himself. It didn’t have to be her. Any woman would fit the bill. He wanted more sex. Lots of it, plain and simple. Not Eve.

  But he knew he was only lying to himself.

  Damn it to hell. She’d done something to him. Usually, the physical release after sex lasted him at least a week, sometimes longer if he kept busy.

  But not this time. After making love with Eve, all he could think about was being with her again. He felt as if he’d been literally starving and she’d been a feast. A feast he couldn’t get enough of.

  He had to stay away, prove he could tough this out.

  Still, he was glad he’d made the hair appointment with her for today. He needed a haircut and that would be a perfect time to prove he was immune to her lure.

  After performing his morning chores, he’d plowed through lunch. All day he’d had an eagerness lurking low in his gut.

  When it had come time to drive to town, he’d felt unaccountably nervous and edgy. He, who had faced down a three-hundred-and-sixty-pound enraged, territorial prison inmate, dreaded facing slender Eve Kelley. As if she could simply take one look at him and know he’d spent the last fifty-six hours thinking about her.

  The walk from his truck to her salon door seemed far too long. Boots crunching in the frozen snow, he reached the door, wondering for the eightieth time why he hadn’t just gone to the Old Time Barber Shop like he, and all the other Colton men, always did.

  But he knew the answer to that. He wanted to see Eve.

  Little bells jingled as he yanked open the door to Salon Allegra. Approaching the front counter, he saw the shop was empty and breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he needed was to have a bunch of women with foil or curlers in their hair staring at him.

  Then Eve emerged from the back, her smile so warm, so welcoming, he felt he could face down an entire army of gossiping women. He barely noticed a second woman following Eve, then stopping in her tracks and staring at him, openmouthed.

  “You made it!” Eve sounded glad—and surprised.

  Nodding, he smiled, managing to keep the smile plastered on his face while she introduced the other woman, Lacy Nguyen.

  Eve whisked a cloak around him. “Follow me. We’ll get you shampooed, then you can tell me how you’d like me to cut your hair.” She took him to the back, waited until he had taken a seat, then ran the water.

  Spraying his head with warm water, she began to massage his scalp with shampoo. Her deft fingers felt so good, he nearly moaned. Instead, he closed his eyes.

  Apparently as nervous as he, Eve kept up a constant monologue as she worked. “Poor Lacy doesn’t know what to think. First your sister, then you—”

  He snapped open his eyes. “My sister? Maisie came here?”

  “Yes. She had me cut her hair really short. The cut she wanted wouldn’t work on just anyone, but on her it’s fabulous. Wait until you see her.”

  “I’m more interested in what she had to say.”

  Eve colored, a dead giveaway. Rinsing his hair off, she wrapped his head in a white towel, then began to do a quick towel-dry. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then, she lifted one shoulder in a quick shrug.

  “She asked me what my intentions were toward you.”

  He laughed. “What did you say?”

  Glancing around to make sure Lacy couldn’t hear, Eve leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “I told her they were purely sinful.”

  Shocked by both her words and the quick flick of her tongue on his ear, he froze.

  Her laugh was more musical than the bells on her door.

  “Really?” he managed. “I can just imagine Maisie’s reaction.”

  “Just kidding,” Eve continued merrily, as if oblivious to her effect on him. “In a roundabout way, I told her it was none of her business.”

  “Did she take that well?”

  “Well, she didn’t throw a temper tantrum or anything, so I guess so.” She ran her fingers through his hair, testing texture and length. “Now tell me how you want this cut.”

  Fifteen short minutes later, eyeing himself in the mirror, Damien admitted she’d done a good job. She’d trimmed his unruly hair into a much neater do, managing to make his longish style look both hip and clean. “I won’t be spraying any of that stuff on it after I shower,” he warned her. “I usually just towel-dry and go.”

  Her blue eyes widened. “You go out into the subzero temperature with wet hair?”

  “It dries long before I head out.” He got out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

  She waved him away. “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

  An awful suspicion worried him. “Did you cut my sister’s hair on the house also?”

  Eve grinned. “Nope. I charged her thirty-five bucks.”

  “For a haircut?”

  Her grin widened. “No need to sound so shocked. She pays twice that at the place she normally goes.” She licked her lips, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’m worth it.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, even as his body stirred. “You are.” He got out two twenties and placed them on the counter. “Here you go.”

  “Men’s cuts are only twenty.” She slid one of the bills back toward him.

  He slid it back. “Then this is your tip.”

  Coloring, she nodded. “Okay, then. Thanks.”

  Conscious of the other woman watching, he leaned closer. “Are you busy later on? I was thinking we could hang out tonight, if you want.”

  Again she flashed him a smile as her lashes swept down to cover her eyes. But only for a second, then she lifted her chin and her clear blue gaze met his.

  “I’d like that,” she said softly. “Where and when?”

  “I’ll pick you up at your place. Say, seven? We’ll go grab a bite to eat.”

  “Why don’t you bring food over instead?” she murmured, apparently also conscious of Lacy’s inquisitive stare. “I don’t think I’m going to feel much like going out.”

  Zing. Just like that, she had the capacity to stop his heart. “Okay,” he managed. “What time?”

  “Six is good. The earlier the better.” Then, while he was still reeling from the possibilities in her smile, she walked away, waving goodbye at him over her shoulder.

  He left the salon in a daze.

  “Do you have a date?” Lacy followed Eve into the back room.

  “No, of course not.” Eve knew her denial came too quickly. Another dead giveaway would be the rush of color staining her cheeks.

  “I swear I heard Damien Colton ask you out,” Lacy persisted. “And I’m pretty sure you answered yes.”

  “First off, we’re not going out.” Truth, since they were staying in. “And secondly, Damien and I are just friends.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since high school,” Eve shot back, shooting her employee a look that plainly told her to back off. “Nothing to gossip about. Just two old friends catching up.”

  “Okay, have it your way.” Clearly skeptical, Lacy shook her head. “But let me point out that if the two of you are such good friends, Damien’s been home for months and this is the first time he’s been in the shop.”

  Since Eve didn’t have an answer for that one, she let it go. Time to change the subject and try to put things back on a normal footing.

  “Speaking of the Coltons, today’s turning out to be a Colton Monday,” Eve said, finger on he
r appointment book. “First Maisie, then Damien and next Sharon, though she’s the only one who actually had an appointment in advance.”

  Sharon Colton, Darius Colton’s wife, was due in for her usual highlights and cut. She had a standing appointment once a month and was meticulous about keeping her frosted blond hair looking exactly the same. Though some found her standoffish, Eve liked the older woman, who had a lot to cope with in marrying into the Colton family as she had, especially since she was Darius’s third or fourth wife. She rarely left the ranch, and when she came to town, it was either to get her hair or nails done, or to eat at Eve’s family’s famous barbecue restaurant.

  Even the Coltons were unable to resist the perfection of the Kelley’s slow-cooked brisket or smoked ribs. The restaurant was especially busy this time of the year with its smoked holiday turkeys.

  “Better you than me,” Lacy said, yawning and apparently giving up. “This has been a long day. I’m ready to call it a day.”

  “Me, too. I just have this one more customer, then I can lock the place up and head home.”

  The bells over the front door tinkled, telling them Sharon had arrived. Hurrying out into the salon area, Eve stopped short at her first glimpse of her client. Usually, Sharon Colton looked like a less dramatic version of Maisie—perfectly put together, remote and fashionable. Not today.

  Though she wore one of the many full-length fur coats her rich cattleman husband had given her, her heart-shaped face looked drawn and pale. The huge circles under her blue eyes made her look tired, and every tiny line stood out in stark relief. Many of the townspeople believed she went to Bozeman on a regular basis and got Botox treatments, but looking at her this morning, Eve doubted it.

  “Are you all right?” she asked softly.

  Sharon looked up, swaying slightly. “I think so. Or I will be, once I finish getting pampered.” Her tight smile didn’t reach her eyes. As usual she spoke with a hint of a Southern accent, the kind that blurred her words and softened consonants.