by Lucy Score
“Don’t forget carless,” he added.
I rolled my eyes. “And carless.”
“I’ll get the truffles I hid in your bedroom,” Stef volunteered.
“I really wish you were straight,” I said.
“If I could be straight for anyone, it would be you,” he said, clinking his glass to mine.
“Where did these glasses come from?” I asked, frowning at the barware.
“These are my car wine glasses. I always carry a pair.”
“Of course you do.”
Dear Naomi,
Your father and I are having a wonderful time even though you haven’t been updating us on what’s going on in your life. Barcelona was beautiful, but it would have been even more beautiful if we knew our daughter wasn’t spiraling into a depression or some sort of mid-life crisis.
Guilt-tripping over. You should have seen our tour guide, Paolo. Hubba hubba as the kids say. I attached a photo that I took. He’s single if you want me to bring you back a souvenir.
Love,
Mom
SEVENTEEN
MAN-TO-MAN
Knox
It was too damn early for someone to be banging on my front door. They deserved what they got. I yanked on a pair of gym shorts and stumbled down the stairs, rubbing sleep out of my eyes.
“Someone better be dead,” I muttered, nearly taking a header over Waylon, who put on the speed on the last three steps.
“What?” I said, yanking the door open.
The obnoxiously good-looking Stef—stupid, misleading name—peered at me over his expensive sunglasses.
“Good morning to you, too,” he said. He wore golf shorts and one of those patterned button-downs that only lean guys who spent hours a week at the gym could pull off.
My dog shoved half his body out onto the porch and gazed lovingly up at the intruder.
“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a handsome boy?” Stef said, squatting down to pet him.
Waylon basked in the attention.
I rubbed a hand over my face. “What do you want?”
Mr. Smooth held up two cups of coffee in a to-go tray. “Coffee talk.”
I snatched one out of his hand and stomped away from the door into the kitchen. Waylon trotted after me anticipating his breakfast.
I popped the lid off the coffee and guzzled while I scooped up a helping of kibble.
Dog fed, I shoved my head under the faucet and turned on the cold water, willing the shock to wake up my brain.
I came up for air and found a hand towel hovering in front of my face.
I took it without a thank you and dried off.
“Why are you bringing me coffee at an inhuman hour?”
“To talk about Naomi, of course. I assumed you were quicker than this.”
“I am when my sleep isn’t interrupted.”
So maybe it hadn’t been the sleep I was pissed off about. Maybe it was the dream involving Naomi’s cherry-painted lips that had just been getting warmed up when this asshole decided to be social.
“My apologies. I figured this talk couldn’t wait,” he said, pulling out a stool at the counter.
I crumpled up the towel and threw it in the sink. “Is this the part where you tell me to back off your girl?”
Stef laughed.
“Something funny?”
“You’re one of those straights with baggage that complicates everything,” he said, leaning on the counter.
“You have until I finish this coffee before I throw you out.”
“Fine. I appreciate you looking out for Naomi. You hear a stranger is asking questions around town looking for her and you got her and Waylay out, made sure they were safe. She’s not used to someone taking care of her like that.”
“Didn’t do it because I want to get in her pants.”
“No, even though you do. Because you’re not stupid. You did it because you wanted to protect her. So even though you’ve got this whole Oscar the Sexy Grouch thing going, you’re already miles beyond Warner in my opinion.”
I kept my face neutral, not willing to show any interest in this new topic.
“Warner used her. And I tried to warn her. Hell, I even warned him. But Naomi did what she’s always done.”
“Cleaned up everyone else’s messes,” I said.
Stef raised an eyebrow. “Well, well, well. Look who’s been paying attention.”
Waylon let out a hearty burp from the floor. He sat staring at his now empty dish as if expecting it to magically refill.
“What’s your point?”
“She’s spent her entire life trying to make up for her sister, who sucks, by the way. And it keeps biting her in the ass. Be the perfect student. Get the perfect job. Marry the perfect guy. Now she’s signed up to take care of an eleven-year-old in a strange place and is hoping that if she can just be good enough, she can stop her parents’ hearts from breaking again.”
I shoved a hand through my hair. “What does any of this have to do with me?”
Stef held up his hands and grinned. “Look. I get if you’re in that whole ‘I’m not interested’ phase. The last thing Nomi needs right now is a hot and heavy relationship that’s going to get messy because of your baggage. But if you keep looking out for her like you did yesterday, we won’t have a problem.”
“And if I don’t?”
“If you use that accommodating nature of hers against her, then we’re going to have a huge problem. I can be very creative when it comes to finding ways to make you regret being an asshole.”
It was ballsy. I had to give it to him. Showing up to a stranger’s house with coffee and then threatening him. It felt like something I might do, minus the coffee thing.
“What kind of creative problem is this Warner asshole having right now?”
Stef took a long sip of coffee. “Right now I’m letting the humiliation of being left at the altar by the woman he told his friends was ‘beneath his class’ do its work. But if he comes near her again, I’ll ruin him.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
He blew out a breath and took a sip of his own coffee. “I didn’t know specifics until last night and I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
“Bad?”
Stef’s jaw clenched. “Bad,” he agreed.
I didn’t like that this guy had Naomi’s confidence. That he had access to her secrets, and I was on the outside left guessing. But I could think of a few dozen things that fell under the category of Bad. Any one of them would be worth breaking an asshole’s jaw over.
“He better hope he’s never dumb enough to step foot in town limits,” I said, putting my empty cup down.
“Hate to break it to you,” Stef said, looking up from the full-body scratch he was giving Waylon. “He’s definitely that dumb. Besides, where else would he go when he realizes that Naomi’s the one who solved every problem he ever had? He’s already emailing her every day. It’s only a matter of time before he figures out where she is.”
“I’ll be ready for him,” I said grimly.
“Good. I’m still sticking around for a while. At least until I know she’s okay. But I can’t be next to her at all times. It helps to know there’s someone else looking out for her.”
“She wouldn’t take him back, would she?” I surprised myself with the question.
Stef seemed to enjoy the fact that I’d asked the question. “No. But she’s soft enough that she might try to help him clean himself up.”
“Fuck.”
“There’s nothing our girl loves more than getting her hands on a disaster and making it shine.” He gave me a long, even look, and I didn’t much care for the connotation.
I wasn’t a disaster. There was nothing wrong with me. I had my fucking life figured out.
“Fine. So what do we do in the meantime?”
“Money’s tight for her. She spent most of her own savings on the wedding.”
Fucking romantics. Never even considering that things could and would go
horribly wrong.
“She’s prickly about taking loans or handouts. Though she might have no choice once her parents catch wind of the situation.”
“They blow into town pissed off at Evil Twin and then try to take care of down-on-her-luck Good Twin,” I guessed.
He tossed me a salute. “That about sums it up.”
I blew out a sigh. “She’s got no car, no computer. She’s picked up some bar shifts from me.”
But it wasn’t enough for a family of two to live off of for long. And the best paying shifts were nights, which meant someone had to watch Waylay.
Single moms were the world’s unsung fucking heroes.
Stef took his phone out of his back pocket, thumbs moving over the screen. “I’m going to apply some charming pressure and push her to put her house up for sale. She’s only had it two years, but she had a decent down payment, and property values are going up in that neighborhood. There should be enough equity there to help her cash flow problem.”
I searched my memory for something that was niggling in the back of my head. “Librarian said something about a part-time gig if a grant comes through. I could make sure that grant lands.”
He looked at me over his screen. “Putting those lottery winnings to good use?”
So Mr. Smooth had looked me up. It wasn’t exactly a secret. And I’d have done the same in his place.
“What exactly do you do?” I asked.
He shrugged, still typing. “A little of this. A little of that. I’ve got a guy who can deal with the house. As soon as she gives the okay, we’ll have an offer within a week. Two tops,” he predicted.
I drained the last of the coffee. “So she didn’t live with this asshole?”
“Not officially. He was going to move in with her after the wedding. Reluctant bastard liked having his own place. Especially since Naomi cleaned it for him and took care of his meals and laundry. I hope that fucker is sitting in a pair of dirty underwear sobbing into a pot of Campbell’s.”
I stared at him a beat. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Me?” Stef laughed, stowing his phone back in his pocket. “I’m the best friend. Naomi is family.”
“And you two never…”
He sat there smugly and waited for me to say it. “Never what?”
“Never…dated?”
“Not unless you count taking her to senior prom because Tina got caught with her mouth on Naomi’s date’s dick in the locker room at school.”
Fucking Tina.
“Naomi’s been my ride-or-die before ride-or-die was a thing. She has never once let me down and she’s forgiven me for the handful of occasions that I’ve let her down. She’s the most amazing woman I know, and that’s counting her mother, who’s pretty fucking awesome too. I don’t like it when people fuck with my family.”
I could respect that.
“I’ll take that grunt to mean we have an understanding. You’ll watch out for her. You won’t fuck with her. And together we’ll make sure Warner Fucking Dipshit the Third never gets within a city block of her.”
I nodded again. “Fine.”
“Give me your phone,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Why?”
“Oh, you want me to text Naomi when Warner shows up looking for her?”
I handed it over. Stef held it up to my scowling face to unlock it. “Huh. Wonder if it would unlock if you were smiling.”
“I don’t know. Never tried.”
He smirked. “I like you, Knox. You sure you’re not interested in our girl?”
“Definitely not,” I lied.
Stef studied me. “Hmm. You’re either dumber than you look or you’re a better liar than I thought.”
“Are you done? I’d like to get back to not having you in my house.”
EIGHTEEN
MAKEOVERS FOR EVERYONE
Naomi
“Surprise!” Stef said as he pulled into a parking space directly in front of Whiskey Clipper.
Uh-oh.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
“Back-to-school hair,” Stef said.
“Seriously?” Waylay asked, biting her lip. She couldn’t quite pull off the bored pre-teen vibe, and I knew it was going to be a good idea, even if it meant braving a run-in with Knox.
“Deadly, darling,” Stef said, hopping out from behind the wheel of his spiffy little Porsche SUV. He opened the back door for her. “First day of school is a fresh start for everyone. And from the reviews, this is the place for hair.”
I climbed out and joined them on the sidewalk.
Stef slung an arm around both of us. “First hair. Then lunch. Then nails. Then fashion show for first-day outfits.”
I grinned. “Outfits?”
“You’re walking Way to the bus. You need something that says ‘responsible yet hot aunt.’”
Waylay giggled. “Most moms just show up in pajamas or in sweaty workout stuff.”
“Exactly. We need to make a statement that the Witt women are fierce and fashionable.”
I rolled my eyes.
Stef caught me and crossed his arms in impatience. “What have I always told you, Naomi? And you listen to this too, Way.”
“When you look good, you feel good,” I recited.
“Good girl. Now get your cute little asses in there.”
The interior of Whiskey Clipper was cooler than any salon I’d ever set foot in. Instead of the muted pastels and spa music typical in most hair establishments, here it was brick walls and ’70s rock. Black-and-white photos of Knockemout in the early part of the 20th century hung in stylish gallery frames. One entire wall was dominated by a bar of decanters and bottles of whiskey. Exotic flower arrangements occupied the low, curved front desk and the whiskey bar.
The waiting area looked more like a VIP lounge with its leather couches and glass side tables. The concrete floor was covered with a faux cowhide rug.
It felt cool, a little steam-punky. And a lot expensive.
I turned to my friend and lowered my voice. “Stef, I know you were being nice, but money—”
“Shut your stupid beautiful face, Witty. This is on me.”
He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to argue. “I didn’t get you a wedding present.”
“Why not?”
He looked at me dryly for a long beat.
“Right. Of course you predicted it.”
“Look, you’re getting your ‘my fiancé likes my hair long’ shit cut into something you love. And that adorable smartass niece of ours is getting a style that is going to be more interesting to those little fuckers in the sixth grade.”
“You’re impossible to argue with, you know that?”
“You might as well save your energy and quit trying.”
“Hello, ladies and gentleman,” Jeremiah called from a station with an ornate mirror and a scarlet cape draped over the chair. “Who’s ready to change their lives today?”
Waylay sidled up to me. “Is he serious?”
Stef took her by the shoulders. “Listen, shorty. You’ve never experienced the miracle of the kind of haircut that is so good it parts the clouds and makes the angels sing. You’re in for a treat today.”
“What if I don’t like it?” she whispered.
“If you don’t like it, our next stop will be Target, and I’ll buy you every hair accessory in existence until we find the perfect way to style your new hair.”
“Your hair is yours. You get to decide what to do with it,” I assured her.
“You get to decide how you show up in this world. No one else gets to dictate to you who you are,” Stef said.
I knew he was saying it for Waylay’s benefit, but the truth resonated deep down inside me too. I’d lost myself while trying to convince someone else that I was what he wanted. I’d forgotten who I was because I’d let someone else take over the definition.
“Okay,” Waylay said. “But if I hate it, I’m going to blame you guys.”
“Let
’s do this,” I said with conviction.
“There she is,” Stef said, booping my nose and then Waylay’s. “Now, let’s get started.” He made a beeline for Jeremiah.
“Your friend is weird,” Waylay whispered.
“I know.”
“I kinda like him.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Maybe it was the second glass of champagne Jeremiah poured for me. Or maybe it was the fact that having a man’s fingers massaging my scalp and playing with my hair was a long-forgotten delight. But whatever the reason, I felt relaxed for the first time in… I couldn’t count backwards that far.
It wasn’t that I didn’t have things to worry about. There were plenty of those looming. Like the guardianship. And money. And the fact that I still hadn’t told my parents about their granddaughter.
But right now, I had a gorgeous man’s hands rubbing delicious circles into my scalp, a glass full of bubbles, and a niece who couldn’t stop giggling over whatever Stasia was saying to her while they worked on temporary lowlights.
Stef and Jeremiah were deep in conversation about hair textures and product. I wondered if I was imagining the hint of spark between the two. The lingering smiles, the long flirtatious glances.
It had been a while since Stef had been in anything resembling a relationship, and the gorgeous, talented Jeremiah was definitely his kind of catnip.
I heard the roar of a motorcycle out on the street. The engine revved once before cutting off abruptly. A few seconds later, the front door opened.
“Hey, boss,” Stasia called out.
My bubble of bliss popped.
The responding grunt had my heart trying to flutter its way out of my chest like an anxiety-ridden butterfly trapped in a glass jar.
“Stay,” Jeremiah said firmly, pressing a hand to my shoulder.
I couldn’t see Knox. But I could feel his presence.
“Knox,” Stef drawled.
“Stef.” I opened my eyes, wondering when the two of them had gotten on a grudging first-name basis.
“Hey, Way,” Knox said, his voice a little softer.