Chapter 3
“Well, wasn’t that something special, him coming to the shop? You should’ve got his number, Chelsea.”
Chelsea watched the man walk away, surprised at how easily he had shaken her usually steady nerves.
“I really messed up his hair. What did he expect? He asked me for a haircut—a trim, he said—but he barely has half an inch of hair. Then he looked at me with that smile and that ridiculously handsome face. I don’t get it, Eve. He's not even my type.”
“Tell me what you really think, Chelsea. Wow, he didn’t even leave the front sidewalk. Go get his number. Or better yet, let me do it.”
With her hand on the door, Eve threw her a smile, her eyes sparkling with something like the childish trouble she and her old high school friends used to play. “Don’t you dare!”
Voice hushed, Chelsea moved swiftly, clamping down on her friend's hand just as he was crossing the street. “For goodness sake, that’s all I need is a date with a guy like that who brings out the worst in me, and we’ve only just met. Can you imagine how Cocoa would react?”
Eve let go of the doorknob and walked away, her heels clicking on the tile as she shrugged. “That dog would be more than happy to know her mama has a love interest. These heels are killing me. I don’t know how I’ll last more than fifteen minutes in them.”
“If you’d just worn sneakers until your knight in shining armor showed up, you’d be fine. Go grab a pair of the customer slippers, put them on, and if anyone asks, we’ll say you are breaking them in.”
The salon door burst open so fast it hit the counter with a loud thud, and the bell rang wildly. “Well, I’ve got bad news, and I’ve got bad news. Which do you want first?”
Taylor, the town’s resident gossip, had a good story, and Chelsea could see it in her eyes. Wishing for another cup of coffee to go with the news flash, she smiled. “Well, get on in here and let it all out, Taylor. I could use a good story to make my day. So far, it’s been miserable.”
Taylor wasted no time parking herself at the pedicure booth, her shoes quickly kicked off in favor of the bubbly water in front of her.
She slowly dunked them in, no longer in a rush now that she’d arrived.
“Oh wow, my feet have been hurting so bad. Chelsea, you’ve got to order me one of these for my bathroom. ”
Hands waving in the air, her way of expressing herself while she relaxed, she kept going. “I promise it won’t take away from my time here at the salon. I just need this every night before bed, and well…”
She chuckled, brushing a stray strand of grey hair from her face. “And probably first thing in the morning, too. I sleep all weird, and my feet get cramps.”
Chelsea, despite feeling exhausted, quickly handed Eve a towel, and she sat down to get busy. “You were going to share some gossip. Who is it this time? Carlie, the new bank teller, or Jerry, home from college and working at the convenience gas station, who’s smitten with Karen at the grocery?”
Chelsea listened to Taylor’s gossip that was going around town.
When Taylor was done with her pedicure, Eve let Taylor know what had happened earlier with Chelsea.
“Before you go, Taylor, I should tell you that Chelsea had a really handsome guy in her chair this morning. Boy, were the sparks flying, and I only witnessed it briefly. I can only imagine the flying daggers and rushing lightning bolts. She messed up his hair, but I couldn’t see it.
He was mad as could be, yet he wanted to hang out and talk to us.
If he’s not smitten with her, I don’t know who is.
And she, well, I’ve never seen her so upset and yet melting. ”
“You’re kidding! Chelsea! Well, who is this guy? Do tell!”
Chelsea clamped her mouth shut, knowing full well Taylor would have her story plastered all across the local news if there was, in fact, a story to tell. Mindlessly, she shuffled brochures and hair supplies around to make the showcase look more presentable and keep her hands busy.
“I don’t know what you two are talking about. I messed up a man’s hair, some new guy in town, and now my name will probably be all over the news. Not good.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. I’d bet a million dollars he can’t stop thinking about your beautiful eyes. He hasn’t forgotten all about that lousy haircut, and has everything else etched in his brain. Besides, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, was it, Eve?”
Taylor stood at the door, her hand on the knob, carrying a week's worth of new supplies. Her mint-green hair and pink ties made her smile even brighter.
“Not really, it was so small, but depending on whether he’s one of those guys, it might upset him. In which case, he’s definitely not your type, Chelsea.”
“Who cares? Let's drop it, shall we?”
“I guess. I’m off. Make sure everyone knows. Whoever sees her first has dibs on being the first to let me know what that ring looks like. I’m betting it’s at least five carats.”
Eve laughed, her eyes dancing. “Maybe seven carats.”
“Have a good day, ladies. Thanks, as always.”
The quiet was short-lived after that. Two teenage girls were looking to get a spa treatment—nails, hair, tanning, facials, the works. By the time the day was over, Chelsea was exhausted, but Grant didn’t pop into her head.
Thank goodness he left without a fuss. I just hope he doesn’t turn this into a front-page story. Goodness me, it’s not the way I want to be featured, bad press and all.
That thought stayed with her all night, well into the late hours.
Cocoa nuzzled up next to her on the bed, the television buzzing quietly.
She couldn’t get his smile out of her head, and she stared mindlessly at the ceiling.
“Why is it always the good-looking ones, the ones that truly aren’t my type, that stop me in my tracks? ”
Throwing back the covers, Chelsea made a beeline for the kitchen and the last grape ice pop in her freezer. “Might have to start chasing the ice cream truck.” She smiled at no one in particular. “I need to stop thinking of Grant. That man is trouble.”
Later that night, while Chelsea was sound asleep, her phone rang. It was her daughter, Addison. “Sorry to wake you, Mom. Do you have any chest rubs? Abby caught a cold, and I need something natural. The pharmacy is closed till 8 a.m.”
Shivering from the cold breeze coming through the open window, she got up. In less than thirty seconds, she had her shoes on, still in her pajamas, and keys in hand. “I’m on my way. My baby boo is sick, and Grandma’s coming to the rescue. Do you think you need anything else? Does she have a fever?”
“No, Mom, no fever. I’m regretting bugging you at this hour. Let me guess, you're already driving?”
Tired, her daughter sounded more exhausted than she’d ever heard her. Worried, Chelsea rushed back to the house to grab the herbal box of tea she’d just brought. “Colds in the summer are hard to get rid of. The weather doesn’t know if it's going to be hot, cool, and so on.”
Half paying attention to the road, half on the phone, and still somewhat blurry-eyed was not the best way to be driving through Dragonfly Cove at 4 a.m., even if no one else was around. “I’ll be there in five?—”
Her bare foot jammed on the brakes just as another car came rolling through the stop sign. She pumped it wildly, just barely stopping to prevent the collision she knew would have occurred.
Through the dimness of night, she could see the image of a man, his eyes glaring at her across the space.
The rent-a-car Grant secured before dinner wasn’t to his liking.
It was too small, not fast enough, and definitely not his color, but he wasn’t about to make an issue where one wasn’t needed.
He needed transportation, and this was all the car rental company had when he left New York. It was a take-it-or-leave-it deal.
Just as he expected, he couldn’t stop thinking about Chelsea since leaving her shop. Her uneven haircut and mysterious eyes kept coming back to him. Afterward, he made his way through the building, introducing himself to everyone he’d be working with at the newspaper.
Some he already liked; others he knew weren’t fit for the news. He liked changes, yet he also liked the challenge of insisting that some things needed to stay the same. He’d smiled, chatted, and remembered faces and names, but none stuck with him as hers did—Chelsea.
“Not my type—” The quick slam on the brakes from the car approaching the intersection with a stop sign wouldn’t have been a big deal had he not seen her.
Her hair floated in the breeze. Her eyes kept her secrets, and her face showed a soft look—part irritation, part fear. “Well, I’ll be?—”
Slowly, he approached, moving purposefully as the car slipped closer. With the window rolled down, he smiled, ready to rile her up. “Looks like you should be at home instead of out here, almost hurting people and maybe yourself.”
He caught on quickly and spoke before she could say anything, taking her parted lips as a sign. “What could you possibly be doing up this late at night?” Then a surprising thought crossed his mind. “Could it be a midnight rendezvous?"
Grant saw the appalled look on her face before she masked it behind the professional persona she was clearly good at maintaining. “I beg your pardon. I merely couldn’t sleep. It's not a crime, you know.”
“I never said that. I was just curious. It doesn’t seem very dangerous around here, at least from what I can tell.”
Sparks flew from her eyes, tightly contained behind a mask of disapproval and anger. “No, you're right about that. Hence, why I’m out here getting some fresh air, not that it's any of your business.”
“Touché. I’ll leave you to it then. Be safe.”