MacKenzie Fire(98)

When I pull into my parking space, I have to stop and do some deep breathing before I can get out. Ian’s standing behind the car when I finally emerge.

“You look like you’re about to drop,” he says, taking me into a warm embrace. He kisses my head as I wrap my arms around him and hold tight. “Just relax, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”

“It is?”

“Yes. Finer than fine. Now come on.” He pushes me off him and holds my hand. “Show me to your salon. I want to see your whole life, starting now.”

“Okay.” I walk down the sidewalk in the heels I changed into once we were off the plane, loving the feeling of solid ground that doesn’t slip under my feet. I’m so much more graceful in Florida than I am in Oregon. “So this is the street that my salon is on. Some evenings the town has big events and this place is packed.”

“It’s nice. Is that a trolley?”

“Yes, but not on tracks. It’s just a glorified shuttle.”

“I like it.”

So far, so good. I smile nervously. “And up there you can see my salon. See the awning?”

“Yep. Looks pretty nice from here.”

I let go of Ian so I can text Jorge. THE EAGLE HAS LANDED.





Chapter Forty-Seven





WE’RE STILL TEN FEET FROM the front door when it flies open and Jorge comes running out on tippy toes.

“Oh my god, she’s here! She’s back! And she brought a beau hunk with her!”

Jorge has convinced someone to shave a side part into his hair for him. The rest of his hair is greased down and slicked into place, the top part still poofy, and a couple curly cues are stuck along the edges of his face for effect. He’s looks like Prince, but the Prince you’d see in an Alice In Wonderland book. He’s also wearing his favorite red skinny jeans paired with a hot pink top that he’s tied at the bottom.

I speak in a low voice. “See? Level eleven.”

Ian whispers back. “Nah, I think he’s more a nine, if you ask me.”

I giggle as Jorge approaches, unable to hold in my happiness at seeing my friend and partner. He really is a special person. “Incoming!” I say in a sing-song voice, letting go of Ian and opening my arms for the embrace I’m about to be tackled with.

Jorge reaches me and wraps his long, skinny arms around me and squeezes while he squeals. “Ooooooo, giiiirl, I have missed you soooo much. Don’t you ever, ever, ever, ever, ever go away for that long again.” He separates himself for a few seconds to look at Ian before going back to hugging me again. “Or just take me with you next time,” he whispers in my ear. “Holy hot cowboy, Candice!”

I know Ian can hear him, but he’s pretending like he doesn’t. He’s just standing there waiting to be introduced, wearing that cowboy hat, a t-shirt and jeans. He’s getting appreciative stares from pretty much anyone walking by, man or woman. For the first time since I met Ian, I’m feeling jealous. What if he falls in love with someone else while he’s out here?

Jorge lets me go and stands up straight to face Ian. He rests his hands on his butt and bends this way and that, getting a good luck at my cowboy lover.

“So you are the one man who finally made the cut.”

“Jorge, shush,” I say, worried about what Ian will think. I didn’t tell Ian that I’ve never brought a man back to the salon before. This place has always been my safe zone, my home away from home. No man has ever made the cut before Ian, Jorge is right about that.

“I guess I am,” Ian says, holding out a hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you. You must be Jorge.”

Jorge slaps Ian’s hand away and opens his arms. “Hugs. We only do hugs around here.”

Ian nods. “If you say so.” He steps in and gives Jorge a hug, which I fully expect to be awkward at best. But he surprises both me and Jorge by grabbing Jorge in a bear hug and lifting him up off the ground for a second before putting him back down and letting him go.

Jorge lets out a girly scream as soon as his feet leave the ground. His facial expression is classic, and I hate that I don’t have my camera ready. He’s in shock, and believe me when I say it takes a lot to shock Jorge.

“Oh my … now that is what I call a hug.” Jorge fans his face, and it’s not just an act. He’s sweating.

“Okay, hormones, relax,” I say. “Let’s go inside where it’s air conditioned.”

“You use air conditioning in the winter?” Ian asks, following Jorge inside.

“Yes. It gets so humid the walls will mold if we don’t. Plus we have the dryers going and all the irons. It gets warm in here even in winter.”

Ian nods his head all the while he’s walking around inside the foyer area. The granite fountain is burbling water into the small koi pond in the floor and the marble tiles make my heels click as I walk over to the reception area. The essential oils we diffuse into the air usually have an immediate calming effect on me, but today they’re not working. I feel like I’m walking the gauntlet with Ian. Will he hate it here? Will he hate my friends? So far things are looking good, but there are a couple more potential roadblocks in the way.

As we approach the front desk, I hold my hand out towards the small, dark-skinned man sitting behind it. “Ian, this is Sunil. Sunil, this is Ian.”