Page 4

My jaw dropped, and I had to feel my head just to check. “I’m not even close to going bald.”

“Mhmm.”

“Now you’re just being cruel.”

“What? Iamthe professional.” She wore a pleased smile.

I would have shaken my head at her, but she was too busy working for me to risk it. She did some scissor work along the top of my hair, used the clippers around the swath she’d already mowed down, and I crossed my fingers in my lap. Just a couple minutes later, she set the scissors down and was spraying me with ice cold water.

“Jeez,” I said, “You’re worse than Mom on Sunday mornings.”

“I’ll tell her you said that,” Mags said, just a hint of warmth to her voice. She and my mom had always gotten on well.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

She arched a brow. “Don’t test me.”

I smiled at her in the mirror. “Going to let me look at the cut?”

Cringing, she said, “I think it’s best if you don’t.”

I let out a small laugh, breathing a huff of air out my nose. “I’ll take your word for it.”

She reached for the cape, removing it and the small towel from my neck. But then her fingers caught my skin, sending fire down my spine. “What is this from?”

Realizing she had touched the surgical scar, I jumped out of the chair like I’d had an ice cube put down my shirt. “Nothing. How much is it?”

Her dark eyebrows drew together as she studied me. “It’s on the house. First customer is free. Congratulations.”

I shook my head, reaching into my wallet, and took out a hundred-dollar bill, pressing it into her hands. “A tip.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said uncomfortably. “The back really didn’t turn out all that well...”

I lifted a corner of my lips. “I think I owe you more than that bill could cover.”

Her mouth moved, but no words came out.

And I already knew I’d overstayed my welcome. So I put on my hat to cover up at least part of the haircut and left the salon, waving to Rhonda on my way out.

As I walked down the sidewalk, one thing was clear. Mags hadn’t forgotten what happened between us, and it was going to take a lot more than a botched haircut and a tip to win her back.

3

MAGNOLIA

I triedto focus on work for the rest of the day, not sure whether I was more upset about seeing Rhett or getting off on such bad footing my first day at the salon.

But Rhonda didn’t say much about the incident while we worked alongside each other. Her calendar was booked, and I was able to help with walk-ins and take a few extra appointments while she worked. I could see in the way she moved that she was hurting. She took ibuprofen twice in the ten-hour day and walked like her hips or back were aching.

At the end of the day, she bent to get something from the cabinet under the register and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Let me get that,” I said quickly, reaching for a fresh roll of receipt paper. She gave me a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’m not as young as I once was.”

Still concerned, I asked, “Is it arthritis?” I knew standing on your feet all day was hard on the body. One of the reasons I wanted to own a salon instead of counting on a job that only paid if I was there, doing hair.

With a frown, she said, “My hip’s been giving me trouble. My doctor thinks I need a hip replacement, but I haven’t been able to take off work, or afford the surgery if I’m being honest.”

My lips parted. “Rhonda... that’s awful.”