I raised an eyebrow, impressed. Bryce followed the Lupos’ twenty-minutes-a-day reading ritual, but Maisiehatedto read. “That’s really clever,” I said at the same time I wondered,Why haven’t I ever thought of that?
Probably because I was too wrapped up in my own reading material.
“Thank you,” he said, then motioned to the porch. “I’m going to grab a quick shower.”
“Oh.” I felt myself flush. Fingers crossed I hadn’t used all the hot water.
Connor cocked his head, as if waiting for me to say more.
“I took an outdoor shower earlier,” I admitted, and before he could tease me, added, “I want my dad to build one on our back deck. Even if our water lines need to be reconfigured…”
He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
It made me smile. “I also didn’t expect you to use such high-end shampoo.”
“Really?” Connor smirked. “You thought I was a Head and Shoulders guy?”
“Or Dove,” I said. “What’s Oribe?”
“The shampoo my salon uses.”
A snicker snuck out.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Nothing, except… You go to asalonto get your hair cut?”
“Yes, I do,” Connor said confidently, but I caught some redness creep across his cheeks. “I like the experience better than Great Clips or the barbershop.”
I started laughing.
“Thesalontreats me like the greatest person to ever exist,” he continued. “Jill cares about my life and tells me about hers, and they have snacks and a fridge full of delicious drinks. Plus, a killer playlist. Theyloveme there.”
“I bet they do,” I said and rolled my eyes.
Even though I secretly thought it was cute and could picture it without even blinking. Connor was probably the mayor of his salon.
“Where doyougo get your hair cut?” Connor asked cheekily. “Somewhere that serves champagne?”
“How did you guess?” I deadpanned, then shook my head. “My grandmother cut my hair when I was little. We played beauty salon in her bathroom.”
“This is Annie, right?”
I nodded. “I’m not that close to my other grandmother.”
Patricia—Grandma—was nice, and I enjoyed spending Easter with her and the rest of my mom’s side of the family, but she lived across the country in San Francisco.
She also wasn’t Annie.
“She sounds really special,” Connor said, then took a breath as if trying to muster the courage to say something else, but instead, he simply added, “One of a kind.”
“Yes,” I agreed, wondering what words he’d swallowed. “There’s no one like Annie. I wouldn’t be who I am without her.” I considered. “I’d probably have a couple tattoos.”
Annie hated tattoos.
“Oh, yeah?” Connor arched an eyebrow. “Where?”
“That’s for me to know and for you to speculate.”
