You like my face, don’t you, Olivia?
Olivia
In college, I used to fantasize about smothering your face.
Lachlan
But you didn’t. Because you liked it.
Once upon a time,if you wanted your hair done in Sugar Creek, you had two choices: Judy’s Cut Up and Dye, where you could get fifty-cent sodas so cold they hurt your teeth and gossip so warm you’d tip extra. Or Ronnie Mack’s Barbershop, where Ronnie peddled cuts, shaves, and the worst jokes this side of the Mississippi.
Years ago, when the city received a series of grants to spiff up the downtown, Sugar Creek got herself a face-lift, drawing the attention of proprietors who saw an adorable and welcome place to build lives and businesses. Ratify Salon was one of those additions.
The next morning I stepped out of my SUV, smoothed my fitted jacket and wished I were anywhere but here. In the parking spot beside me, Lachlan unfolded his giant body out of his vehicle, and I saw the hesitation on his scraggly face. He wore his old uniform of jeans and a t-shirt, but by now the look had almost grown on me. It suited him. Just not for his role as CEO.
“If it isn’t my better half.” He zipped up his hoodie as the wind ruffled his hair.
“You are excellent at math.” I kept a firm grip on my cup of coffee, taking comfort from the heat.
Lachlan studied the asphalt beneath his feet. “I missed you at breakfast this morning.”
I turned his words over in my head, trying to find the sarcasm, but his face looked completely sincere. “I got an early start today.”
Lachlan and I had stumbled upon an accidental morning routine. After we got ready, we’d meet up in the kitchen where he’d have coffee already brewing. While Lachlan whipped up something quick for breakfast, I’d share a few words on personal brand improvement before the conversation turned to more entertaining topics. Yesterday we’d had omelets, fresh squeezed orange juice, and a lively debate on the best movies of the last decade.
“It was frozen bagel day anyway,” he said. “You didn’t miss much.”
But I had. I’d left for work at six-thirty and found myself wondering what our breakfast topic of the day might’ve been.
We walked toward the salon as the season’s first fall leaves cartwheeled by, their crisp, fragile melodies crackling in the air.
“I’ve got to catch a plane in five hours, so I’m gonna give this salon thirty minutes,” Lachlan said.
“You’ll need to triple that.” I pulled open the door to Ratify. “My stylist gets scissor-happy when she’s rushed.”
“Olivia!” Blaire Stewart, newest owner of Ratify and best stylist in the tri-county area, embraced me with the polite hug of one who did not want her clothes disturbed. “Only you and anyone else who’d offer me five times my going rate would be allowed in my salon at such late notice. My waitlist is four months long. Didn’t hurt that you threw in an invite to your sister’s grand opening.”
The salon bustled with clientele who paid dearly for their visits. The scents of fruit and mint essential oils brewed in the air, and indie pop sang from the speaker. “I hope we didn’t pull you from anything important,” I said.
Blaire’s smile was as tight as her pants. “Only a two-hour massage on my first day off since spring. No big.”
Without thinking, I slipped my arm through Lachlan’s. “This is the man who owes you a fat check and a spa gift card. Blaire, meet Lachlan Hayes.”
Lachlan’s hand covered mine. “Nice place you have here, Blaire.”
“Yes. I know.” Then Blaire did the same thing Paolo had—walked a complete circle around Lachlan, wide-eyed and slightly entranced with the starting point. “This is a lot of hair.”
“Indeed it is.” I was more than a little fascinated by the current of awareness humming through my system. When had my hand in Lachlan’s started to feel right? “What are you thinking, Blaire?”
“That I might need landscaping shears.”
“I meant…in terms of stylistic specifics?”
“I think we cut much, but leave some length on top,” Blaire decided. “Get rid of the Jason Momoa locks.”
“Did you hear that, Olivia?” Lachlan slid his arm around my waist and rested his hand on the curve of my hip. “She thinks I look like a studly superhero.”
“Let’s shave the face.” Blaire turned her spiky head this way and that. “All of it must go.”
