Page 26 of Falling for Keeps

“No.” Emma smiles, showing pretty white teeth. The front of her hair is braided back and disappears into curls. “My friend got married, so I went to her wedding.”

Ah, of course. “The bachelorette.”

Emma nods at me, but her attention is immediately back on my daughter. “My hair is too short for most things, so I put in this braid and hoped for the best.”

Penny sighs while I unclasp her skates. “I want Dutch braids for the first day of school, but my dad can’t do them.”

“This is pretty much a small Dutch braid,” Emma says, gesturing to her hair.

Penny’s face scrunches up. “It looks French.”

Emma leans back, eyebrows lifting. “I’m impressed, young lady.”

Which, of course, makes Penny preen. Her scrapes and the blood dripping down her leg are totally forgotten as she debates the merits between equally problematic hairstyles with Emma, who reaches to lift her up once the skates are off.

“I have a little sister,” Emma says. “I used to braid her hair all the time, so I’ve had a lot of practice. Your dad probably just needs to practice more.”

I shoot her a look. All the YouTube tutorials in the world would never make me a better braider. Some of us can’t get the system down. I don’t have enough fingers for that nonsense.

Penny changes tack. “Would you rather lose all your hair—eyebrows and eyelashes too—or your nails?”

Emma crosses her arms over her chest, looking up like she’s giving this matter great thought. I should tell her she’s off the hook, that she can leave because Penny is obsessed with would-you-rather questions and this can go on all night if we let it.

But I don’t.

“I think I’d choose to lose my hair.”

Penny gasps. “No one’s ever picked that one!”

Ever…since she made it up this morning.

Emma’s smile brightens, her eyes amused. She leans to Penny’s level, looking her in the eye and talking like she’s important. “I use my nails for so many things, though. Scraping off stickers, opening things, picking out splinters.”

“Do you often have splinters?” I ask.

She ignores me, but her lips quirk into a smile. “But I could wear a wig and draw on eyebrows.”

“What about eyelashes?” Penny asks, like she’s found a technicality not previously considered.

“I can glue those on, too. But glue-on nails won’t be as practical. They’d pop off when I tried to use them if there’s nothing but skin underneath.”

“I’m really good at painting flowers on nails, but I’m not good at butterflies yet. My dad lets me practice on him.”

I lift a hand, showing off my two blue nails with blobs that slightly resemble a winged creature.

“Beautiful!” Emma straightens, stepping forward and taking my hand to turn it toward the waning sunlight. Warmth from her skin fills me with heat. She admires Penny’s handiwork, and I admire her. “I think we have a future artist here.”

“I’m already an artist,” Penny says proudly.

“Well, that’s obvious.” Emma drops my hand, wiping hers against her skirt. I’m not sweaty or grimy, so I can only conclude that she wants to remove the feeling of my skin against hers.

“Do you want me to paint your nails?” Penny asks, her voice so bright my chest aches.

Emma doesn’t even hesitate. “I would love that.” Her brown eyes are warm when they turn to me. “But it’s up to your dad.”

“The only thing we should be painting is your bedroom, Nickel.”

Penny groans. “But I can’t do butterflies on my walls.”