She looked at him, heart pounding in her throat and stomach.
“You don’t need to suck in your stomach around me.” He winked and closed her door. Walking away, he yelled, “Good luck on your interview!”
Evie quickly rolled down the window and called back, “Thank you, Caleb. Have a great day!”
Although she smiled when she drove off, she nearly cried with both sadness, regret, and happiness at the moment. If only she could have had the courage to ask him out. It was difficult to concentrate on her interview and the long drive home. And once at home, she snuggled up withTeddy on the couch to catch up on the latest drama on the discussion page.
To her surprise, she saw she had a friend request from a man with a t-shirt on, gently muscled arms blanketed with tattoos on one side, and he was leading a quarter horse.
It was Caleb Wright.
Chapter Four
The door of the salon was yanked open wildly and the welcoming bells rang obnoxiously. Everyone turned to stare. An older woman with rollers in her hair sat underneath the dryer while she read a gardening magazine, and the smell of perm was noxious in the air. A few other ladies turned over their shoulders from the nail stands. Their local town sweaters and messy buns and oversized purses gave them a cute and effortless look in Evie’s eyes.
She drew in a deep breath with a tight smile and observed the room. Just perfect for spring and her interview, she was rocking a floral print keyhole neckline blouse with paper bag waist belted pants. The outfit was a swarm of blushing pink hues and soft whites, and her high-heel sandals were just the right white to go with it.
Even though they followed her with their eyes that were stacked with heavy mascara, she didn’t care. Evie was bursting with so much excitement that she ignored all the peering strangers and sat right down in front of an open nail stand, with one lone nail tech waiting for a client.
“Are you available?” she asked sweetly as she set her purse down. “I’ve had such an amazing day so far and have to celebrate it and treat myself!”
The lady paused in mid sip of her nutrition shake, made by the local smoothie joint and kept in a locally made tumbler with “Mom Boss” written all over it. Her hair was a deeply dyed red hue and gelled with gentle wisps to accent her short cut. Her age had to be around fifty, and her well-manicured nails were French tipped, and one finger sported a large diamond ring. Her lips were painted in a glossy deep red as well.
She pursed her lips. “Who are you?”
Evie smiled and waved. “Oh, you don’t know me. I’m new here. I moved here roughly two years ago and haven’t been in here yet. But not only did I have this amazingly cute guy send me a friend request last night, I got a call this morning that I got a promotion at work! So, help a girl celebrate?”
The nearby women snickered and went back to their work and gossiping, still staring at Evie. She looked a bit out of place there.
“Alright, I can do that for ya. What are you wanting?” She put her drink down and began gathering her things.
“Surprise me. I’ve never done this before. But keep my nails short because I like to play guitar, and I type a lot at work.”
The lady looked at this stranger and hesitated for a brief moment before flashing a friendly smile. “You got it, sis. Tell me, what’s your name?”
“Evie Morgan. What’s yours?”
The tech began cleaning off her old polish. A few moments passed with the aggressive approach. “Myla. Myla Marr.”
“That’s a pretty name. Far better than mine.”
“What’s wrong with yours?”
Evie shrugged cutely. “I don’t know. It sounds too fanciful.”
Although Evie was trying to smile and be friendly, the obvious stares of the nearby women caught her side eye once more. Slowly, she turned and smiled in confusion. The client with the blonde messy bun asked, “And where did you come from?” Her accent was a slight drawl, but nowhere near Caleb’s, Myla’s or her pawpaw’s. The blonde little horror had a voice that was high-pitched yet slow at the same time.
“I lived in Dawson for about seven years.”
“Ooooh,” she teased with raised eyebrows. A few lines of age andmore pronounced cheekbones made Evie believe she was in her early or mid-forties. “You’re a cardinal girl, aren’t you?”
“Yep! Traded in my feathers for the horseshoes.”
“You ever make it to one of the basketball games?”
Evie shook her head. “Um, no.”What a random question to ask.
“Why not?” the blonde horror said as she sat up more. “All of our town are avid supporters of our school sports.” She flexed her long, bony fingers for the technician and looked at them.
