Four
Her hair was so beautiful, like threads of gold spun just for him.
—Hailey Fairchild,What the Heart Seeks
Carwyn is coming out of the hardware store, just two stores down. If he sees me looking like a green-haired monster, I’ll never survive the mortification. I amnotthat strong. I dash for my car, which is parked halfway between the salon and the hardware store. If I can just get in it, I can duck down and hide until he passes.
Dashing through the snow works fine if you’re wearing the snow boots you packed and not the cute shooties you just had to wear to prove that you, too, could look like a social media influencer.
I almost make it to the car before I hit a slippery patch. My arms start to windmill, and my body waves back and forth like those tall, inflatable, yellow sausage people you see at car dealerships. I’m doing the holiday hula and making shrieky noises. And here goes my right foot out from under me. Down I go, hitting the sidewalk with an “Eeep!”Oh no. Get up.
I try, but I end up scrabbling around like I’m at a roller rink with wheels on my feet.
“Here, let me help you,” says a deep voice.
I don’t even have to look up to know it’s Carwyn. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“Hailey,” Carwyn says with a big smile as he lifts me to my feet. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lie, brushing off my coat. If you don’t factor in complete mortification. I know my face is red. I can feel the flame burning through my cheeks. He’s staring at my hair, making the flame hotter. A corner of his mouth lifts. He’s about to laugh, I know it. I’d probably laugh, too, if it wasn’t me.
He quickly pulls that corner back down and coughs to choke back the laugh. “It looks like you’re getting in the Christmas spirit.”
I could pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about, but since I’m not carrying any bags filled with goodies, there’s no point in it. “I just got my hair done,” I say, lifting my chin, daring him to laugh. Now there is a three-alarm fire on my face.
“It’s...” He clears his throat. He covers a fresh guffaw with a cough. “It’s... festive.”
“It’s awful,” I say miserably, losing my bravado.
He goes from amused to pitying. “It’s not that bad, really.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Okay, yes, it is. Who did that to you, and what did you ever do to her?”
I sigh. “Gwendolyn Payne. She and Sam are together now.”
He nods. “Yeah, Sam told me. I’m sure she’s changed.”
I point to my hair. “You think?”
He lifts his shoulders. “Bad hair stylist day?”
I’m not laughing.
“Hey, it’s no big deal, really. Lots of women do crazy things to their hair.”
Not me. I never do anything crazy. I only get wild in my imagination. Although Gram might say different. She’d like me to get a lot wilder.
“I’m going to have to buy a wig,” I say miserably. Yes, this isa memorable conversation I’m having with the star of my recent fantasy.
“How about a hat, instead?” he suggests. “Come on, I’ll help you pick one out. I just saw some in Ray’s.” He takes my gloved hand and starts leading me toward the hardware store.
This is... strange. I’m holding hands with Carwyn Davies, and we’re going... hat shopping. In the hardware store. The heroes and heroines in my books would come up with a better activity than this. Why can’t I craft my real life to match my fiction?
“I heard you were coming back for Christmas. Welcome home,” he says, and I try not to think of the glamorous reunion I’d dreamed of.
In the hardware store, he hands me various knitted hats to try on—long stocking caps, several in Seahawks colors and sporting pom-poms. I’m not into football, so I pass on those. Finally, I pick a gray wool hat with a turned-up brim that will hide the green.
