“Hi, Harper,” I said, answering.
The screen filled with her forehead, then the ceiling fan, before she adjusted it. “Ms. Dani! We have a code red hair emergency!”
I laughed, pushing my chair back. “Oh no. What happened?”
She tilted the phone to reveal the damage. The bun was lopsided, drooping, held together by faith and static electricity.
“Daddy said he was tired,” she explained. “So I tried to do it myself. But now it’s sad.”
“Well, we can’t have sad hair,” I said gently. “Okay, do you have a brush?”
“Check!”
“Elastics?”
“Check!”
“Bobby pins?”
She hesitated. “Maybe?”
“Perfect,” I said. “Let’s work with that.”
I talked her through it slowly, watching her concentrate with her tongue poking out. The bun improved, although still imperfect.
“It looks happy again!” she announced.
“It’s very professional,” I told her. “I’d hire you.”
She beamed.
I heard a door creak. “Harper?” Logan’s voice came faintly through the phone. “Who’re you talkin’ to?”
He appeared behind her, hair damp from the shower, gray T-shirt clinging. My brain stalled and I became too aware of his shoulder in the frame, the drop of water sliding along his jaw.
Was I blushing just from seeing him? I tried to look casual, but even my tongue felt awkward in my mouth.
And when he realized what was happening, his eyes widened.
“Harper,” he said carefully, “are you FaceTiming Dani?”
“She helped me!” Harper said proudly. “Look!”
I raised my hands. “Busted.”
Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, Dani. Didn’t realize she called. We’ll… try to limit emergency contact hours.”
There it was again. Kindness, followed immediately by containment.
“It’s fine,” I said easily, because that’s what I always did. “I take my work seriously.”
He crouched beside Harper. “Okay, bug. We owe Dani a thank-you.”
Harper didn’t hesitate. “We can thank her with milkshakes!”
He looked up at me through the screen. “Milkshakes, huh?”
“Consultation rates are steep,” I said. “Seems fair.”
