When in Rome(53)

“Well, yeah. I’ve seen you drive my truck. Snails were passing you—flipping you the bird and everything. It was embarrassing.” Amelia laughs and shakes her head, turning her eyes back to the window. And I realize in this moment, I’d do just about anything to make her laugh. What’s happening to me?

Looking through the window, Amelia takes one full breath and then nods once—firmly. She looks up at me again, and this time, she’s determined. There’s fire in those crystal-blue eyes. Determination looks so damn sexy on her. It’s making that fierce desire to kiss her boil up inside me again.

“Okay, I’m doing it. I’m going in there and I’m getting my hair cut. Better get the truck ready, Bo Duke,” she says, bouncing from foot to foot like a prizefighter about to step into the ring. If she had a mouthguard, she’d slip it over her teeth. I need to tape her knuckles. “I’m a woman who eats pancakes and gets her hair cut when she wants to. I’m my own damn boss, and I’m taking my life back!” She heads toward the door, puts her hand on the doorknob, and then quickly lets go and paces back to me. Nope, she passes right by me. She’s zooming toward the truck, and then abruptly freezes again. Slowly, she turns back around and treks her way to the door once again. We repeat that whole process two more times.

So on her fourth trip to the door, and when I can tell she’s about to lose steam again, I go up behind Amelia, open the door, and push my hand against her lower back, nudging her over the threshold. “It’s been entertaining as hell to watch, but I’m starting to get dizzy from all the back and forth.”

She looks at me over her shoulder with a thankful smile. “I was going to go in that time anyway.”

“Sure you were.”

“Are you going stay with me?”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to. Hell, I’d hold her hand in there if she asked me to. But I know I can’t let myself do that. If I’m going to keep myself from falling for her, I’ve got to keep some boundaries. Get some space and clear my head.

I hitch my thumb over my shoulder as I step backward. “I’m supposed to meet someone for lunch. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

I hurry out before Tanya’s heavily eye-shadowed eyes can sweep to the front desk and catch sight of me and Amelia. She’d sink her teeth in me and then I’d end up with a haircut I never asked for. Just before the door closes behind me, I hear, “Darlin’, yes! I’ve been hoping you’d stop in here since I heard you popped into town. Sit down and make yourself comfy. Wanna Coke? I know you’re probably used to wine but I’d have to drive home and grab the box from my fridge and that might take about twenty minutes.”

I just hope she doesn’t come out with a perm.





Chapter 21


    Amelia


I’m faced away from the mirror, like the way hairstylists always do (which I’m convinced is so if they mess up, they can fix it before you notice), and haven’t been given a peek at my hair this entire time. Heather is the twenty-one-year-old daughter of Tanya, and the one who has been working on my hair. It’s been—as Tanya would say—a hoot listening to these ladies volley conversations back and forth. I don’t think I’d even notice or mind if she accidentally shaved my head. Worth it to hear them spill the town tea. I just wish I knew all the people they’ve been southern-politely slaughtering. I’m invested no less.

“Now, give us the scoop about you and Noah,” Heather asks me a touch too loud. Even over the sound of the hair dryer, everyone seems to have heard. All heads swivel in my direction. It’s my turn to spill the tea, I guess.

Tanya and Virginia (the other two stylists) are each working on elderly clients, rolling pink perm rods. Virginia has bright yellow-blond hair that is teased up to the ceiling. She’s smacking her gum while aiming a mischievous smile at me. “I tried to date him, ya know? Hell, I didn’t even need to date him! I offered to climb right into that man’s bed.”

Thankfully they can’t see my hands clenching into jealous little fists under my cape. I try to laugh lightly but there’s a quaver in my voice.

Virginia winks at me. “Don’t worry, baby. He’s too much of a gentleman. Turned me down and sent me home with an apple pie.” She rolls her eyes up to heaven like she’s reliving the taste of it—or maybe trying to see if she can spot the top of her hair. She’ll never find it. “And if that man’s hands can make a pie that good, imagine how delicious the sex would be.”

“Virginia!” Tanya scolds. If I had to guess, I’d say Tanya is about fifty years old with chestnut brown hair, heavy eyeliner, big hoop earrings, and six-inch-tall high heels that she walks in with the same ease as if they were slippers. Jealous. “Don’t be talking like that around Heather.”

Virginia throws her head back laughing and I can see her gum in the side of her mouth. “Oh come on, Tanya. The girl’s getting married soon. Surely she’s allowed to talk about sex now?”

Heather takes this moment to lean down and whisper quietly as Virginia and Tanya argue about appropriate salon conversation. “Mama, God bless her, still thinks I’m a virgin.” She looks at me with a laugh and wide eyes. “She somehow got it in her head that Charlie and I are waiting until our honeymoon to sleep together even though that already happened the day I got my license back in high school.”