Chapter 3
3
AURORA
Mom: Good morning. This is me asking for sign of life again.
Me: I’m alive.
It’s the only answer I can get myself to give her.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket immediately after hitting Send. The bottles of shampoo on the shelves in front of me have begun to blur. Labels upon labels, brands upon brands. They all do the same thing, in my opinion, but the customer up front demands one with a price tag that lets me know she’s not struggling in the finance department.
I find the deep blue bottle of shampoo with a fancy label tucked behind a row of grey ones and snatch it from the shelf. Bryce finished inventory quickly yesterday, but obviously, she isn’t as anal with the order of the shelves as me. I could spend hours organizing supplies until everything is perfectly laid out, whether in alphabetical order or sorted by colour. Maybe both, if I have the time to burn.
The bell above the front door chimes, and I leave the storage room quickly, hoping my lack of pep in my step hasn’t sent a customer leaving without what they came here for. It’s still hard for me to comprehend that Anna can make a living here in Cherry Peak with a population so small, but from what I’ve seen, she isn’t struggling in that department. Somehow, there never comes a day where she isn’t either busy with clients or chatting up a customer who’s curious about something. Just yesterday, a woman came in from Edmonton, having driven five hours just for a cut and colour.
I’ve been tempted to ask her to fit me into her schedule for a trim, but from my inches of dry, dead ends, clearly, I haven’t.
My sneakers hit the floor in quick procession as I round the corner and paste on a smile for the customer I left waiting. Only it isn’t just the customer anymore. Not by a long shot.
“I’ll have to give Daisy a call, Johnny. Thank you so much,” the woman who asked for the shampoo coos, a hand decked out in a long-tipped french manicure sweeping over the exposed skin of his bicep.
The same half-white, half-tan, rippling-with-muscle bicep that shows only because he decided against wearing a shirt with actual sleeves today and instead wore one that’s torn at both shoulders to expose a hint of his obliques, as well. A goddamn DIY tank top that’s tucked into the front of his tight jeans and behind a belt buckle the size of my fist.
His hair is long, wavy, and so, so black. It’s kept half hidden beneath a dark brown cowboy hat instead of a filthy baseball cap like the night we met, and suddenly, all I can think of are the words he spoke into my ear the moment I mentioned it.
“There’s a rule when it comes to a man settin’ his hat on a woman, Aurora.”
I fight back a familiar shiver and straighten my posture before letting the bottle hang at my side as I walk past the two of them to the front desk. Ignoring the burning side-eye coming from where I know Anna’s standing at her station, I walk a bit faster.
Everyone that was at Peakside the night I let Johnny pull me out of the booth and into his arms for far too many dances has clung onto the moment with steel claws, refusing to let it drop and move on. Anna and Poppy especially. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve told them that it meant nothing until finally, they stopped bringing it up, their hopes crushed. I know that doesn’t mean they believe me in the slightest, though.
It’s fine with me if they don’t. I know what it meant, and that’s that. It meant DANGER in all caps with red lights flashing. It was a warning not to ever allow myself to fall into that position again because it’s not what I came here for. Even after only a few minutes in his presence, I knew everything I needed to.
That he would be bring me nothing but utter heartbreak.
That night was my first time ever meeting the outgoing cowboy that the girls said would be in attendance at the bar, and I wasn’t expecting what I found.
From the moment he appeared at the edge of the table with a giddy, confident glint in his eyes, I knew I was in trouble. It was obvious that I should have taken off. But I didn’t. Johnny has an uncanny ability to yank you into his orbit without warning, and once you’re there, it’s nearly impossible to break free. Which is why the moment I could, I did.
And I’ve done everything in my power to avoid taking another trip to Johnny Land since. This sudden appearance has thrown a massive cowboy-sized wrench in my plans.
“I’ll let ’er know you’ll be calling. She’s home for a couple weeks now before she heads off again,” Johnny replies, and I can hear the grin in his voice.
Is it dimpled? Like it was that night?
Doesn’t fucking matter.
I keep my eyes down and set the bottle on the desk before reaching for the debit machine and putting in the price. That tingle you get when you know someone’s watching you hits me a beat later, and I know without having to glance up that it’s not Anna looking at me this time.
Maybe he won’t even speak to me. Who’s to say he hasn’t forgotten all about our dancing? I’ve done a great job of keeping to myself since that night, and he seems like a smart guy. Smart enough to read and understand the signs I’m showing him.
“You get sweeter with age, handsome. I appreciate it,” the customer adds.
I wish I knew her name. She probably mentioned it earlier, but I’ve always been terrible when it comes to remembering them.
“I have your shampoo,” I blurt out, the debit machine already extended over the raised edge of the desk.
Thank God for the soft music playing throughout the salon. Without it, the silence as the woman walks to the desk and takes the machine from me would have been too much.
I lift my stare to hers and give my best customer service smile. “Was there anything else you were wanting today? To book an appointment, maybe?”
“No. I’ve got all I came for,” she tells me kindly before turning to flash another grin at Johnny. “Thanks again. I’ll see you around, I hope?”
I can’t help but look at him as he grins right back at her and waves. There’s nothing but a calm sincerity in his eyes.
“Sure thing. See you.”
The machine beeps, and I print off her receipt before handing it to her along with the shampoo. She takes them both and strides out the door, her designer purse hung over the crook of her elbow.
Dropping my gaze again, I bend at the waist and start fidgeting with everything in the top desk drawer, waiting for Johnny to leave. I don’t know what he came here for, but the sooner he walks back out the door, the better.
Anna, the little traitor, doesn’t say a damn thing as I try not to run and hide. If I had to guess, I’d assume she’s not even around anymore. Most likely hiding in the back room like the scheming woman she is.
I feel it in the air the moment he takes a step toward me. His boots clap on the floor with every step until a moment later, they come to a stop. I swallow, accidentally slamming the drawer shut after dumping the debit machine inside of it. Once I’ve reinforced my blank expression, I stand straight and meet his waiting eyes.
The soft blue shade of them reminds me of a winter morning sky. Maybe comparing them to one of my favourite things is what had me lost in them only a month ago. Refusing to go there again, I blink and divert my stare to the blotches of deep brown freckles over his face. A safer space, but one just as beautiful.
Johnny is a gorgeous man. I’d have to be blind not to recognize that. Rugged and pretty all at once, he’s wrapped into a package with a bright red bow on top that begs me to tug on it and explore what’s beneath with eager hands.
I focus on his chin and the small dimple in the centre of it when he speaks, avoiding looking at his naturally pouty lips.
“Good morning, darlin’,” he says, all deep drawl and confidence. “Long time no see.”
“Good morning,” I reply stiffly, ignoring his last sentence.
“How are you?”
“Fine. How are you?”
I watch his lips curl from where I stare at his chin.
“Peachy. Got a good night’s sleep and managed to push my start time at the ranch this morning just in time to make my appointment.”
Right. He works at Steele Ranch, Anna’s boyfriend’s family ranch. That’s how he knows every single person in the friend group I’ve found myself being welcomed into.
“Appointment?” I ask, confused.
“My hair appointment, Rory,” he says cheekily.
“You’re here to get your hair cut?”
“’Course I am. Did you think I came here just to see you?”
Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “No.”
His grin grows at my blunt response, dimples popping. “Well, I won’t lie. It was actually a bit of both. ”
“You weren’t on the schedule.”
“Were you looking for me on there?”
I huff, dropping my attention to the computer screen as I bend again and jiggle the mouse to wake it up. The schedule is already open, today’s date and every appointment scheduled for today sitting right in front of me. Ten, one, and four fifteen. A quick glance at the corner of the screen tells me it’s only 9:21, and there isn’t anything written down to tell me he should be here.
Clicking out of the schedule, I plop my hands on my hips and stare at Johnny, keeping my mouth in a firm line. “No, I wasn’t looking for you. It’s my job to know when clients are coming in. You’re not on the schedule.”
“Do you like coffee?” he asks.
“What?”
He leans forward against the desk and levels me with an innocent stare, his fingers tapping a quick beat. His question came out of left field, but he looks content with it.
“What does coffee have to do with anything?”
His shoulder lifts. “I’m wonderin’ if I should have brought you some. It seems I have quite a bit to do still to get you to warm up to me, and if you do like it, then I’ll slip out and go get you some right now.”
I cross my arms over my chest, needing to put more than just this desk between us. Coffee sounds really damn nice right about now. Especially if it’s coming from the place down the street where I’ve become a regular. But I’m not about to tell him that.
“I don’t need coffee. I don’t need anything .”
“Come on, sugar. Give me something here.”
The nickname has me physically reeling back, revolted. He doesn’t miss my reaction, and the laugh that comes out of him is deep and proud.
“Alright. No to that nickname, then,” he notes.
“No to any nickname,” I push out before rounding the desk and attempting to leave him standing there all by himself. “I’ll get Anna for you.”
“That your coffee on the desk there?” he asks before I make it all of three steps away.
I spin on my heel. He’s bent over the desk, his hand reaching for the empty clear cup beside the computer monitor with my name scrawled over the side. It’s empty, has been since before I got to work because I gulped the entire thing down on the walk over. I forgot to throw it out. Figures.
“Don’t touch that! God, you are relentless,” I snap, rushing right back toward him.
It’s already clutched in his massive hand, and his eyes are scrunched as he reads the printed white label stuck to the side of it.
“A caramel macchiato with extra caramel,” he says before glancing over at me with a smirk. “You got a sweet tooth just like me.”
“Don’t be creepy, Johnny,” Anna says, appearing on the left with her shiny black apron on and hair pulled back out of her face. “Come sit down so I can get started. How much am I taking off, anyway? You didn’t mention that in your text.”
Johnny whips his head to smile at her. “I’m not creepy. I’m just trying to figure out Aurora’s coffee order. And like . . . a quarter of an inch?”
“Oh. I could have just told you that. It’s a caramel macchiato with extra caramel,” she says before patting the spinning chair in front of her station. “And a quarter of an inch? That’s nothing. Definitely not emergency appointment worthy.”
“I just don’t want a lot off,” he says, the picture of innocence.
He doesn’t have hair so long that it looks shaggy or unkempt. It only hits the middle of his neck, but it’s healthy and silky. If I were him, I wouldn’t be cutting it at all today. There’s no need to. Not even a quarter of an inch.
Anna nods and pats the chair again, careful to keep her expression neutral as she looks between him and me. Johnny doesn’t bother with the same coyness. He winks at me before moving his tall body to the chair and flopping down onto it. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I hate that I enjoy the view.
For some reason I don’t know, Johnny looks at me like a man who sees something in front of him that keeps drawing him in. Something that has and will have him coming back over and over again, even if I give him nothing in return. It’s the same look now as it was in Peakside. It had me running that night, and it has me running today.
Well, not running exactly. But rather, disappearing into the washroom until I know he’s gone again.