by Ann, Natalie
“Hi,” she said simply.
“Hi yourself,” he replied lamely, then pulled it together. “Do you have time for a quick trim?”
“Sure, come on back.”
***
She could do this. Or so she tried to convince herself. It was her job. She did it all day long. Just because she had a crush on him didn’t mean she couldn’t be professional. Even if it meant running her fingers though his hair. Oh man, she needed to get her mind back on track. It was a haircut, nothing more, nothing sensual there. Only she couldn’t seem to convince herself of that.
Once Mac was seated in her chair, a black smock on, this one with a teal embroidered Mitchell’s on the front, she asked, “What can I do for you?”
Ignoring the muffled cough by Mitchell hovering a few feet away in the guise of product inventory, Beth continued to look at Mac’s reflection in the mirror in front of her. She saw his eyebrow rise and fought not to blush at the loaded question she asked. “With your hair. What do you want done?” she said, clarifying her question.
“A trim I guess,” he replied easy enough.
“OK,” she said, pulling a blue comb from the glass jar on her counter. Running her fingers through his hair first, testing the weight and feel of it, she tried to convince herself once again it was just a haircut, for God’s sake. “Feels damp.”
Mitchell’s snort caused her to turn her head sharply and glare at him while he arranged products without skipping a beat.
“I took a quick shower at the end of my shift.”
Trying not to imagine him in the shower was an effort, but she could do it. She hoped. “That makes it easier then. I’ll just spritz it down a bit more.”
Running her hands and the comb through his hair, turning, and angling her head, she tried to decide where she wanted to start on the wavy locks. “You’ve got quite a bit here.”
Mitchell suddenly had a coughing fit behind her and had to excuse himself, Charlotte seemingly joining in.
“Sorry about them. They’re both getting over a cold,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound as stupid to him as it did to her.
“No problem,” he said with a knowing grin.
“So what are we doing here?” she asked again. Flustered, she completely forgot he already had addressed the question.
“Oh, I think you know what we are doing here,” he answered with a wicked gleam in his eye.
Oh boy, she thought, way out of her comfort zone. Pull it together, she scolded herself, pull it together. Choosing to ignore his loaded answer, she picked up her scissors and went to work. “Ever think of trying something new?” she asked, and then regretted it almost immediately as she felt the heat creep back up her neck.
Mac continued to grin at her obvious discomfort. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, seeming to enjoy the banter.
I’m a professional, she reminded herself. “Nothing major, tighten up the sides and back, go a bit shorter on top, maybe. It would be easier, too. You could probably run a towel through it and go. You’ve got enough waves, so it looks like it will fall in place on its own. Want to give it a go?” Crap, she shouldn’t have phrased it that way.
He sent her a look that had her holding her breath, his eyes challenging hers, a sensual smile spreading across his handsome face. “I’m willing to risk it, are you?”
Placing her scissors down, she grabbed the clippers and tentatively smiled back at him. She could play it cool. “Sure.”
Afterward, Beth made her way back to her station and saw Mitchell finishing up with the broom, so she sat in her chair, buried her face in her hands and groaned. “Thanks for embarrassing me, Mitchell.”
“What? What did I do? I’m not the one that said ‘You’ve got quite a bit there,’” he said, mocking her with a wiggle of his shoulders.
She groaned louder and then looked up at him sharply. “Ugh, I meant the picture you took. But did I really say that to him?”
“Oh, well, the Style Monitor was your idea.” He pointed to the flat screen TV mounted on the wall between his and Beth’s station. A twin TV was on the other side mounted between Charlotte’s and Laurie’s stations, with a much larger TV out front for waiting clients to view. The last TV was in back by the nail dryers. The slideshow of color, cuts and styles had been Beth’s brainchild, and a good one at that, showcasing the stylist’s best work.
“Besides, that was a pretty awesome cut. How did you make the back graduate in length like that as you moved up from his neck?”
Glowing with satisfaction, she said, “Simple. I switched out the blades on the clippers, and then I blended a bit with the scissors. I hope to be able to do the whole thing freestyle soon.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing I took the picture for others to see. Don’t worry. I used artistic talent, just an angular shot from the side and back. I think black and white for a bit of drama. No one will even know it’s him.”
Rachel walked back to where Beth, Mitchell and now Charlotte were all tidying up for the night. “I’ve got envelopes,” she said.
Mitchell had long ago realized that the clients preferred to leave their tips anonymously. All employees, from the salon to the spa, had a stack of empty envelopes at the front desk with their names on them allowing clients to discreetly leave their tips.
There were still a few old fashioned clients who tipped when they were done, but with less and less people carrying cash on them this was the perfect alternative. They could pay with their credit card, and then Rachel would exchange the tips for cash at the end of the night.
Mitchell reached out a hand and laughed. “Hand those babies over. Let’s see who wins the prize tonight.”
“Why do you even ask that?” Charlotte said, chagrined. “You always beat us.”
“True,” Mitchell boasted, “But the competition makes you girls work harder.” Then he chuckled at their glares.
Beth ripped open the first five and was pleased. But she was surprised when she opened the last one, not only did it contain a generous tip, but also a note. She sat down and opened the note to read silently. Unfortunately, Mitchell dashed behind her and read it out loud. “Give the princess a hug for me.” At the bottom was a phone number. “Little Ms. Beth, you go girl!” He did a little happy dance behind her chair and made a grab for her phone. “Call. Right now.”
“No,” she shouted a bit too loudly, then lowered her voice. “I don’t know. He’s so out of my league, it’s not even funny. And the last thing I need is Zoe getting attached to someone when I doubt it could possibly go anywhere. She already thinks of him as her Prince Charming.”
Mitchell looked at Beth critically. “So, what is wrong with Mommy looking at him like that too? Not all guys are dillweeds, you know.”
Beth sighed. “That fantasy dream train left the station four years ago, and now I’m left with the nightmares of reality.”
Compliments
Who would have thought a little haircut could garner so much response. It was downright embarrassing at this point. He had no less than three compliments by staff throughout the day yesterday, and now he received another from a teenage patient’s mother, no less. Then she followed it up with wanting to know where and who gave him the cut while she looked pointedly at her rebellious son’s long mop of straight hair hanging over his eyes.
Shaking his head over the ridiculousness of it all, he walked into his office for a quick lunch break, where he heard his cell phone vibrating on the desk. Picking it up, he read the message in shock and confusion.
***
It was Friday morning. One week after Zoe’s follow-up appointment. Six days since the fan installation and two days since the haircut. Not that Beth was counting.
She still hadn’t made the next move. She had never made the next move with a guy, or the first move, or any move at all. Her one and only relationship—if it could even be called that now—ended horribly.
Since Zoe came along, Beth had steered clear of men altogether. She hadn’t
even thought of being in a relationship for that matter, until recently.
But now all those childhood dreams of Prince Charming saving her from despair that had been crushed time and time again while growing up were rearing their pretty little heads, setting her up for frustration and disappointment. Only this time it wasn’t just herself that she had to think about—she had Zoe. And she would protect her little girl from anything that might hurt her, which was part of the reason she’d moved to Saratoga to begin with.
Now there was Mac. He was everything she’d dreamed of growing up—tall, dark and handsome. He was sweet, but not overly sweet so that it came off cheesy, more like considerate. Plus he was great with kids. Who didn’t love a guy who was great with kids?
She really wanted to make the next move, really did. But she had no idea what to say, so she kept putting it off. She needn’t have worried, because the next move when it came wasn’t from her or Mac.
Finishing up her last client of the morning, Beth took notice that Laurie was still in the salon working on a color, so she decided to run to the break room to eat her sandwich. The minute she walked in, she heard her phone chiming in her purse on the desk that she kept in the backroom. Looking down at the screen, she frowned at the unrecognized number and read the message. Beth? 4 and still counting...
What the heck did that mean? Glancing up further, she saw a previous message sent from her phone. Only she hadn’t sent it. How many compliments have you gotten? Huh? Realization dawned and she stomped back to Mitchell’s office, ready for murder.
“How could you, Mitchell?” she said, scowling in his direction, steam all but coming from her ears.
“What?” he said in feigned innocence.
“You know darn well what. What is wrong with you? And that isn’t even something I would have said. How am I supposed to respond now?” she asked helplessly, though still annoyed.
“First off, I was sick of you beating yourself up over this, so I gave you the push. You can thank me later,” he said, smirking triumphantly. “Because I know you will, so store that in the back of your brain for now. Second of all, what did he say?” He made a grab for her phone.
She pulled it out of his reach. “No way. No more messages from you.”
“Then tell me what it says.”
Sitting down in the chair across from him, she took a deep breath and relayed the message. “Now what?”
“That’s awesome. I told you that was a killer cut,” he said proudly. “OK, let’s think, what would I say?”
“No, not what you would say, what should I say?”
“Well, if I don’t help you, it will be days before you reply. So back to what I would say.” He tapped a finger on his chin while he looked at the ceiling.
She reached across and grabbed his diet soda despite his protests and took a large gulp. “Fine, give me some options.”
Rubbing his hands together in glee, he laughed mischievously. “Oh I’ve got some options all right.”
“Clean options. Options, that wouldn’t sound like they were coming from a single mother who’s trying to jump him.”
“But you are a single mother who is trying to jump him.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her snort.
“You know what I mean. And any woman in her right mind would want to jump him. I’m not dead, or blind.”
“Fine, fine, how about you say only 4?”
“No, that sounds too cocky, it’s not me.” She shook her head. “Forget it. On second thought, I’ll do it on my own,” she said, standing up to leave the room.
Mitchell stood up, grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “No, do it now. I’m not letting you out of this room until you respond. I know you, and it will be days again. Don’t let this one get away. Trust me on this, please. Respond now.”
She sat back down, thought for a minute while Mitchell glared at her impatiently, and finally texted back. Sorry, yes, it’s Beth. Glad everyone liked it.
“That is such a lame response. My grandmother could have come up with something better than that.”
She didn’t have a chance to debate him since the phone rang in her hand. “Crap, what do I do?” she asked Mitchell helplessly, waving the phone around in front of her face as if it were on fire.
Chuckling, he told her, “Answer it.”
“Oh, yeah right,” she mumbled and touched the flashing screen on her phone. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Mac said in return, his voice chipper. “Am I bothering you?”
If he only knew, she thought secretly. “No, I’m on my lunch break. You?” She shot daggers at Mitchell across from her when he rolled his eyes.
“Same here. How’s Zoe?”
Her face lit up, how could it not? “She’s good. Still chattering to her dolls over Dr. Mac and his ruby ring.”
He chuckled softly. “That’s good to know I rate well with three-year-olds.”
“Oh, I’m sure you rate well with all ages.” Crap, again that sounded worse than she meant, particularly when she saw Mitchell’s teeth gleam back at her with a thumbs up.
“I’ve got to get back to my patients,” he said, hedging. “But do you have any plans tomorrow? Or Sunday, if you do have plans tomorrow?”
“Ah, no, no plans,” she replied hesitantly. “Just chores around the house.” She waved an impatient hand at Mitchell, who was grimacing at her now.
“I was wondering if you could help me pick out some paint colors for my house. I liked the way your place looked, and I told you I was having some work done, right? They’re pressuring me to make some decisions and I can’t seem to decide.”
She frowned. Well, he did say he liked what she had done to her apartment, only she hadn’t really believed him. “Oh, sure, I can help you with that,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment. Maybe he wasn’t interested in her after all? “What time works for you?”
“How about midmorning? Then maybe we could take a boat ride on the lake? Do you think Zoe might like that?”
“I don’t know. I mean, sure, that sounds great, but I don’t know if she would like it. She’s never been on one before. But I’m sure she’ll enjoy it,” she said, ending her ramble, hoping she didn’t sound too much like an idiot.
“Great, I’ll text you my address in a bit. See you tomorrow. Bye.”
“Bye.” She disconnected the call and looked at Mitchell's curious face. “He asked me to help him pick out colors and such for his house that is being remodeled.” She watched Mitchell’s puckered brow and realized he felt the same disappointment as she did. “Then he asked if we wanted to go for a boat ride on the lake afterward,” she said grinning like a fool, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Woohoo, you go, girl!” He raised his hand and she slapped his palm.
Naptime
“Dr. Mac,” Zoe said, squealing from the backseat when Beth pulled her aging compact Honda behind Mac’s BMW.
Beth’s first shock came from the house. Remodeling my butt, she thought, looking at the new structure being added to the right side of the house, more than doubling the size of the current cedar-sided home.
“In a minute, Zoe. Let me get out of the car first.”
“Out, out, out.” Her little legs were kicking the car seat as she tried to unhook the straps holding her in.
“No,” Beth said, scolding. “You don’t let yourself out, not until Mommy tells you. Do you want to see Dr. Mac?” she asked with a sharp mother’s eye.
“Yes,” Zoe replied happily, her excitement bubbling over.
“Then you need to be a good girl.”
Zoe held her finger up showcasing the ruby ring. “I’m a good girl.”
“Yes, you’re a good girl.” Beth opened the back door, reached in and unhooked Zoe, then set her tiny feet on the driveway. Before she could even shut the door Zoe was off on a full-fledged run.
“Dr. Mac.” Zoe was screeching while her little legs pumped in an effort to reach him with her arms up in the air.
He p
icked her up and settled her on his hip.
Beth got her second shock. Mac hadn’t shaved. She hoped she wasn’t drooling because she was pretty sure her mouth was hanging wide open. When he raised an eyebrow at her and grinned that knowing look of his, she knew she had been caught.
Grabbing her oversized purse from the passenger seat, she turned to see Zoe running her hands on Mac’s face and felt a jolt of jealousy over her little girl.
“Soft,” Zoe stated and giggled.
“I bet it is,” Beth mumbled to herself, and made her way toward Mac.
“Need a hand?” he asked, obviously noticing the two bags over her shoulder.
“No, I’m fine, but thanks,” she answered nervously. What was she doing here? She couldn’t stop wondering that in her mind.
He led her up the two steps of his front porch, which was barren of any furniture, then through the front door centered in the middle of the house.
A few steps past the foyer he pointed to a door on right. “Half bath, in case someone decides they need to go at the last minute,” he said, nodding his head at Zoe, who was content to remain in Mac’s arms. A few more steps in and they were in a wide-open living area. To the left, a recently remodeled kitchen took up the entire half of the house from front to back. Well, almost. There was a small breakfast nook, but that was also bare at the moment.
Mahogany cabinets lined three walls, stainless steel appliances, off-white quartz countertops and cream and mahogany-colored subway tile made up the backsplash. A massive four-stool island was in the center. It was a chef’s dream kitchen, and Beth was afraid she might be salivating once again. Too bad the walls were off-white. It really needed some color.