Page 21 of Knot Your Sunshine (Snugverse Romcom #2)

Chapter twenty

Mia

The tidal pools stretch right up to the café's glass front, so clear I can see anemones in the water.

But now's not the time to enjoy the view.

I stare at an empty Facebook post on my laptop, the cursor blinking back at me.

I'm looking for ten people who understand that cutting hair is just the beginning—

I delete that. Too vague.

Looking for hairdressers who—

Delete.

If you've ever had a client cry in your chair and knew exactly what haircut would make them feel better—

No, that doesn't work either.

My phone buzzes.

Elena: How's it going??

Elena: Did you talk to Naomi?

Me: * Just had a meeting with the alphas' franchise expert. And yes, I did talk to her, she's incredible! Got all the contracts drafted (and already signed).*

Elena: Told you she was the bomb.

Elena: And? How did the meeting go??

Me: Well... the consultant basically said my community approach won't scale. That I need to focus on profit optimization instead of connection.

Elena: WHAT

Me: So now we're going to have a test. His approach vs. mine. One week to prove which works better.

Elena: But your alphas pay him right? Shouldn't he do whatever you tell him? Why entertain this asshole?

Me: They hired him for his expertise, and I asked for their help with franchising. Can't exactly dismiss him without proving my approach works.

Elena: I guess that makes sense...

Me: Plus I REALLY want to wipe that smug look off his face. He clearly knows nothing about what actually matters in the hairdressing world.

Elena: Please destroy this corporate schmuck. Also, Mom says hi. She's doing rum shots with Julian and James right now.

Me: Of course she is! Give her my love. Let's call soon so you can tell me everything about the yacht adventure!

I'm grinning as I set the phone down, but the Facebook post still taunts me with its empty white space and that relentless blinking cursor.

Another buzz. This time it's Naomi.

Naomi: Just checking in. How did the meeting go?

Me: Didn't go as expected. Now in a test with the alphas' consultant about which approach is best.

Naomi: A test? If there's no signed paperwork for it, I can void it if you felt pressured.

Me: No, I want this test. Time to destroy their consultant who clearly thinks I'm clueless.

Naomi: Fair. Sometimes you gotta show teeth to be respected.

Me: Exactly. Not backing down from this fight.

Me: By the way, my alphas signed the contracts. Thank you, I feel much safer with that paperwork.

Naomi: My pleasure. Reach out anytime if you need me.

I set the phone down, smiling, and crack my knuckles. Time to find my people.

The post starts writing itself:

You know that moment when a client sits in your chair and finally relaxes for the first time all week?

Yes. That's the opening.

I'm looking for ten hairdressers who understand why a client will drive an extra half hour to your salon. Not just for great hair, but because she knows she'll leave feeling seen and heard.

A server appears at my elbow, setting down a plate of coconut shrimp arranged like a flower, pink-orange sauce pooled in the center.

"From the owners," she says with a knowing smile. "They insisted you needed protein."

I smile gratefully and grab the first shrimp. It crunches between my teeth, sweet coconut giving way to perfectly cooked shellfish. The sauce has a kick that makes my eyes water in the best way.

I take another bite and keep typing.

This isn't about maximizing profit per chair. It's about maximizing impact per day. Although yes, you'll likely earn well, because clients return to hairstylists who see them as humans, not credit cards.

Through the window, a seal's whiskered face pops up barely ten feet from the glass, at the edges of the tidal pools. It blinks at me with liquid eyes, then disappears beneath the surface.

"Tough crowd," I mutter to where it vanished. "Not impressed with my writing?"

But the words are flowing now.

We're opening applications for ten pilot locations. Real support that actually helps. We're proving that community-focused businesses aren't just sustainable, they're the future.

Now for the visual. I pull up a quick design app. Scissors are too obvious. A heart is too cheesy.

What about... I sketch quickly. Two hands, one holding scissors, one reaching out. They almost touch, like that Michelangelo painting.

No, too pretentious.

A hibiscus with scissors for stamens?

Pretty, but not quite right.

Then it hits me. I draw a simple salon chair outline. But where someone would sit, there's a heart. Clean. Simple. Says everything.

This is where transformation happens.

I add the image to the post. The whole thing fills my screen, part manifesto, part love letter, part battle cry.

The server returns with a tall glass of something pink and frosty. "Also from the owners. They said hydration is important."

The drink tastes like guava and lime had a perfect tropical baby. I take another sip and realize I actually was parched. How did they know?

My phone buzzes with a text in our group chat.

Josh: Eating?

I grin and snap a photo of the empty shrimp plate.

Keanu: Excellent. And the seal you probably saw is George. He's a regular.

Me: You named the seal?

Noa: The café did. They say he judges everyone's food choices.

Me: That explains the look he gave me. Thought he was critiquing my writing.

Keanu: George allegedly is a tough critic.

Me: My thoughts exactly.

I put down my phone, smiling like an idiot.

Time to finish this.

I quickly create a Google form for applications. Nothing fancy, but the questions matter:

Tell me about a time you went above and beyond for a client.

What does community mean in a salon setting?

Describe a moment when you realized you were making a difference.

I link the form to the post. Deep breath. This is it.

I hit 'Post.' The screen refreshes, and it's live. All my network will see it.

But I'm not done. I copy the text and paste it into Facebook groups: "Hair Professionals Network - 50K members." Post. "Salon Owners United - 30K members." Post. "Beauty Industry Innovators - 25K members." Post.

Group after group, spreading the word like little seeds in fertile ground.

I lean back, watching through the window as George has returned, hauled out on a rock barely fifteen feet away, sunning himself like he's settling in for a show.

Likes roll in immediately. Shares too. Comments expressing interest.

But no applications yet.

Twenty minutes pass. More engagement, but still no applications.

My throat tightens. Maybe this was too ambitious. Maybe—

My phone pings. One application submitted.

Holy shit.

Then another ten minutes later. And another. Five, ten, thirty. My phone won't stop buzzing.

Heat floods my chest. This is working. People are actually applying.

Chadwick wanted a fight? He's got one.

George reemerges and settles on a rock. Watching me through the glass, he barks once.

I choose to interpret that as approval.