“Well, if you need any help, Detective, let me know.” I touch the top of her head then stand to my full height and raise a brow at Ellie. “I thought you were off today?”
“I was, but Selma called and asked if I could come in and do her and Sejla’s hair for some big party they have to attend tonight,” she explains before she drops her eyes to Hope who is now sitting at my feet, going through all the gadgets and gizmos in her bag.
“Don’t pull that all out, honey. Daddy will be here in just a little while to pick you up, and you don’t want to lose anything.”
“Okay,” Hope agrees, shoving everything she has taken out back in and looking up at me. “Can you paint my nails?”
“Of course I can. Go pick out your color,” I tell her, and her eyes get big with excitement right before she stands and skips off to the back of the shop, with her new backpack bouncing behind her on her back.
“You spoil her,” Ellie mumbles, and I shrug, making her roll her eyes. “Is Frankie in?”
“He’s in his office doing a stock order.”
“Cool, I’m going to get my stuff set up. You okay out here?”
“You know I am.” I give her smile then turn when the bell on the door dings again. The smile on my face slides away as Sage steps inside, looking as beautiful as ever wearing a pair of dark jeans and a long-sleeved dark gray cotton shirt that is molded perfectly to his frame. “Can I help you?”
“We need to talk,” he says, taking a step toward the counter I’m still standing behind. Feeling my muscles get tight when he starts to get close, I see his eyes change, and he stops moving as his jaw clenches.
“I know you know I lied and—”
“I don’t give a shit about that,” he cuts me off, taking another step toward me. “I deserved that after the things I said.” He didn’t deserve for me to lie to him. I should have just had a backbone and been honest. “We need to talk,” he repeats.
“We don’t have anything to talk about.”
“You know that’s not true,” he says quietly, and it’s at that quiet tone I start to get annoyed. I don’t need this right now. I might not need it ever, but I definitely don’t need it right now.
“Okay then, I don’t want to talk to you,” I state, and he opens his mouth to speak, only to close it as Hope yells “Uncle Sage!” while running through the salon at full speed right toward him. Smiling at her, he leans down and scoops her up into his arms.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I came to ask Kim to have dinner with me,” he tells her, and my eyes narrow on him right before I put a fake smile on my face for Hope, who swings her head around to look at me.
“You’re going out with Uncle Sage?” she breathes with wide eyes that I can see are filled with visions of a fairy tale in the making.
“No, sweetie. I’m not.”
“Oh.” She frowns, looking at Sage, who is looking at me with a somewhat amused, somewhat annoyed expression on his face. Oh well, he’ll have to get over it. Just because I no longer have a fake boyfriend doesn’t mean I want to go out with him.
“Yet,” Sage rumbles, staring at me.
“Yet?” Hope repeats, tipping her head to the side and studying him.
“She’s not going out with me yet,” he says, pulling his eyes from me to look at her.
“You have to do something heewowick to win her, don’t you?” Hope asks, and I press my lips together to keep from laughing, because I know she means heroic, but the way she says it is way too cute.
“Something like that.” He gives her a squeeze before he sets her feet to the floor. The second she’s down, she comes over to me.
“Can we paint my nails now?”
“Absolutely. What color did you pick?” I ask, ignoring the fact Sage has now moved closer, causing his scent to fill my lungs.
“This one.” She opens the palm of her hand, showing me the color, which is pink, of course.
“Good choice. Go get in the chair, sweetie. I’ll be there in just a second,” I say gently, touching the top of her head, and she nods at me then turns to face her uncle.
“You should bring her flowers. Mama always says yes when Daddy brings her flowers.” And with that bit of advice delivered, she takes off, leaving me alone with Sage once again.
“Would that do it?”
“What?” I pull my eyes from Hope’s back to look at him at his question.
“If I brought you flowers, would that make you change your mind?”
“No.”
“So what would change your mind about having dinner with me?”
“A million dollars,” I snap, and he stares at me for a long time before his lips tip up and he turns for the door.
“All right,” he says, right before he pulls it open and steps out, letting the door close behind him.
“Shit.” My eyes close and panic fills my stomach, because I know without a doubt I somehow just threw down the gauntlet. With a shake of my head, I move to the back of the salon, put a smile on my face, and paint my favorite girl’s nails.
Standing at the front counter after saying bye to Hope and Ellie’s husband Jax an hour later, I watch Chris come to the front window and put his forehead to the glass, making a funny face. Laughing, I move to the front door and open it then squeak when he picks me up and swings me around.
“Put me down, you idiot.” I smile down at him, hitting his shoulder.
“If I must.” He drops me to my feet and follows me into the salon. “Are you off soon?”
“No. Well, kind of, but not really. I have a client who should be here any minute, and then I need to get to the grocery store. And after that, I’m going over to watch the kids for Elizabeth.”
“All right, I’ll hang with you here then we can go to the store together. I need to get some stuff for my place anyway, so that will give us a little time to chat.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I agree, right before I turn to watch my client walk in. “Hi, Mrs. Ethel.” I smile at her as she picks up her tiny dog and puts him in the bag she’s carrying.
“Kim.” She doesn’t smile, but that doesn’t surprise me. Mrs. Ethel never smiles. Ever. The only time I’ve ever seen what could be described as happiness on her face was when she told me that her son was getting a divorce from the ‘floozy’ he married.
“Are you ready?”
“Would I be here if I wasn’t?” she asks, and I press my lips together as Chris turns and heads for the back of the shop, with his shoulders shaking in silent laughter as he goes.
“I guess not.” I smile, taking the bag holding her dog. Knowing the drill, I carry him over to my station, set him next to it, open the side pocket, pull out the small collapsible bowl there, go to the sink, and fill it with water. Then I take it back, setting it inside his bag, while Mrs. Ethel removes the scarf around her neck along with her ever-present pearls. Once she’s seated, I drape a cape around her then turn her to face the mirror. “Are we doing the usual?” I ask, and she rolls her eyes.
Taking that as a yes, I spend the next two hours trimming her hair, coloring it an off shade of grayish purple, and then teasing and hair spraying the crap out of it. By the time I’m done, she looks the same as she always does, just a little more refreshed.