“And he added an order of fried chicken?” she’s asking me after lunch.
My customer’s eyes volley between me and Laura. I’ve been doing Sylvie’s hair for years—like most of my clients. And she’s definitely listening for any details she can gather about my love life—not that I have a love life. I don’t. I won’t. I had a nice take-out dinner. The end.
“Yes. Do you want me to list out the entire menu?” I glance at Laura and we exchange smiles.
“Yes, please. I want to hear how bad he’s got it.”
“He who?” Sylvie asks.
As if I’m telling her.
“Rob,” I say before my brain catches up to my mouth.
“Rob?” Sylvie asks. “Laura’s husband?”
Laura looks at me and then tells Sylvie. “He’s a giver!”
“Here I thought I was getting some juicy gossip,” Sylvie pouts.
“Nope,” I say. “No gossip here. Not today.”
I look at Laura from my spot behind Sylvie, making sure I’m not visible in my mirror, and silently mouth, “Thank you.”
Laura smiles.
And that’s one more reason I can’t get tangled up with EJ.
Not that dinner out is tangling up with him.
We’d sit across the table from one another.
Very untangled.
Still. I can’t have townspeople speculating and talking about us.
I lift the cape off Sylvie and she says, “Thank you for squeezing me in, Angie.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Let me pay you extra,” she offers.
“No, it’s fine. Just pay what you usually pay.”
She places some cash on my station and leans in to give me a hug. “You’re the best.”
My cheeks heat.
I smile at Sylvie as she walks out the door.
Laura grins over at me.
“What?” I ask, busying myself wiping down the chair.
“Is there a sale going on that I don’t know about? Haircuts and styles at fifty percent off?”
“Her husband is between jobs …”
Laura keeps on smiling, shaking her head at me.
