But when her friend opened her mouth, what came out was, “How about a makeover?”
“A makeover?”
“Yes!” Scarlett bounced in her seat as excitement fizzed up inside her, as visible as bubbles in a champagne glass. “How you’re feeling goes deeper than something a new dress or a new pair of shoes could fix. What you need is a new outlook. A new look.” She raised her brow suggestively. “That’s exactly what you need. A facial, a new brand of makeup, maybe some clothes, a haircut.”
“My hair?” She fingered the ends of her below-shoulder-length, thick mane. Though it was gray, she was lucky it hadn’t faded into that brassy tone some older women got. Veins of pure white and a deep slate enriched the color, making her hair one of the few things she loved about herself at this stage of her life. “What about my hair?”
Scarlett’s excitement wasn’t waning, but her attention was. She waved off Iris’s concerns as she picked up her phone again and tapped to wake up the screen. “Don’t worry, Iris; we won’t ruin your hair.”
She hoped to God not. “So what are we going to do? And what do you mean, ‘we’?”
Scarlett paused in her typing. “That depends. Is that a yes?”
“Um…” Was it?
She paused, taking a deep look inside at how she’d felt the past few weeks.
Why not? What did she have to lose besides a day of pampering? She didn’t have to let them cut her hair if she decided not to. “Okay, yes.”
Scarlett let out a whoop, making Iris jump. “I’ve got just the thing.” She returned to texting.
By the time Scarlett set her phone back down, doubts were settling in. “Scarlett, I don’t know—”
The phone rang, cutting her off. Scarlett answered. “Lily? Yeah. Come over to Casa Blanca. Yeah, bring her.” She hung up. “Lily and Erin are on their way.”
Nerves fluttered in Iris’s throat. “To do what?”
“We’ve got plans to make.” Scarlett’s grin was downright giddy. “Are you ready?”
“God, no.” She smiled wryly. But she did want a change, didn’t she? Scarlett was right: she needed a new outlook to go with her new life. Maybe then she could grow her way out of this morass of grief. If Scarlett and the others wanted to help, now was the time to go after it. Time to put her big-girl panties on, so to speak. “I will be ready, though. Let’s do this.”
Three
She was still the prettiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on, despite the fact that he’d first seen her a decade ago. Jamie knew his smile was strained with worry, but it was genuine—as he watched the pure black mare circle her stall, his heart felt tight in his chest. She’d stolen it the moment she was foaled ten years ago, and he figured she’d own it till the day they reluctantly parted. Though the filly she would give birth to any day now—her first, as her two previous breedings had produced colts—might just take a piece of it as well.
The walkie-talkie attached to his belt crackled. “Sir?”
His mouth quirked, a chuckle escaping. If foaling was unpredictable, Marilyn was the exact opposite. He’d told her from her first day working for him to call him Jamie, but his housekeeper had her own ideas about what was proper. He unclipped the walkie and pressed the button. “Here, Marilyn.”
Baby meandered toward the door to her stall at the sound of his voice. He cupped her muzzle, enjoying the softness of her sable coat as he waited for a response. Not that he needed to—he knew what Marilyn was going to say, just as she knew what his reply would be.
“Ms. Deveraux has arrived.”
“Perfect.” He ran his thumb firmly back and forth along Baby’s cheek, just as she liked. “Have Harris bring her down to the barn, please.”
“Of course, sir.”
Shaking his head at the woman’s stubbornness, he replaced the walkie in its holster and continued to give Baby the comfort she sought. The mare was uncomfortable; he could see it in her eyes, in the way she lifted her head over the gate and rested her forehead against his chest, her breath blowing gently against his stomach.
“Just a few more days, darlin’. It won’t be long and the little one will be here.”
As if she knew exactly what he was saying, the horse gave a huge sigh. He switched to rubbing her ears. They stayed that way for long minutes until the sound of an ATV crunching through the gravel drew near.
With what he swore was a long-suffering harumph, Baby backed into her stall. Eyeing her hay, he gauged how much she had left before turning toward his morning visitor. “Erin, welcome to the farm! I’m sorry you had to come all this way.”
His general contractor slid from the back of the vehicle. Walking through the wide doorway to the barn, she rubbed her rounded belly. Her face was lit with that glow only pregnancy gave a woman. “Nonsense. I’m on my feet all day, and when I’m up at Black Wolf’s Bluff, it’s all uphill. A ride down to your place is a welcome change.”
Jamie gave Harris, one of the longtime hands that helped run the ranch, a nod of thanks before reaching for Erin. A quick kiss to her cheek had become his signature greeting despite their business relationship. He’d grown to genuinely like and care for the woman, her husband, Carter, and their son, Thad, over the past year. Erin was not only the best contractor around in his opinion, but the best kind of human being, and he was proud to call her a friend.
