Truly Madly Yours (11 page)

As he got out of the four-wheel drive, he looked her over. His gaze started at her boots and worked upward. A lazy smile curved his lips. “Looks like somebody had a real good time wrapping you up in electrical tape.”

She pulled her hair from the back of her collar and subjected him to the same scrutiny he’d just given her. His hair was slicked back in a ponytail, and the arms had been hacked out of his blue work shirt. His jeans were worn almost white in places and his boots were dusty. “Did you get that tattoo in prison?” she asked, pointing to the wreath of thorns circling his bare biceps.

His smile flat lined and he didn’t answer.

Delaney couldn’t remember a time when she’d gotten the best of Nick. He’d always been quicker and meaner. But that had been in the past with the old Delaney. The new Delaney stuck her nose in the air and pressed her luck. “What were you in the slammer for, exposing yourself in public?”

“Strangling a smart-ass redhead who used to be blond.” He took several steps toward her and stopped close enough to touch. “It was worth it.”

Delaney looked up at him and smiled. “Did you bend over and pick up the soap?” She expected his anger. She expected him to say something cruel. Something to make her wish she’d run the second she’d seen his Jeep, but he didn’t.

He rocked back on his heels and grinned. “That was a good one,” he said, then he laughed, and it was the deep confident laughter of a man who knew with certainty that no one would think to question his sexual preference.

She couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever heard his laughter that it hadn’t been directed
at her
. Like the time her mother had made her dress up like a Smurf for the Halloween parade, and Nick and his hoodlum buddies had howled with laughter.

This Nick was disarming. “Sounds like we’re both going to be in Louie’s wedding.”

“Yeah, who would have thought my best friend would end up with crazy Louie Allegrezza.”

His chuckle was deep and genuine. “How’s business?” he asked and really threw her off balance.

“Okay,” she answered. The last time he’d been pleasant to her, she’d let him strip her naked while he’d remained fully clothed. “All I need is a few new locks and some deadbolts.”

“Why? Did someone try to break in?”

“I’m not sure.” She lowered her gaze to the folded papers sticking out of his breast pocket, anywhere but his tractor-beam eyes. “I was given only one key to the business and there have to be more somewhere. I called the locksmith, but he hasn’t made it over yet.”

Nick reached for the door handle by Delaney’s waist and jiggled it. His wrist brushed her hip. “He probably won’t. Jerry is a damn good locksmith when he works, but he works
just
enough to pay his rent and buy booze. You won’t see him until he runs out of Black Velvet.”

“That’s just great.” She looked down at the toes of her shiny boots. “Has your business ever been broken into?”

“Nope, but I have steel doors and deadbolts.”

“Maybe I’ll just do it myself,” she said, thinking out loud. How hard could it be? All she needed was a screwdriver and maybe a drill.

This time when he laughed, it was definitely
at
her. “I’ll send over a subcontractor in the next few days.”

Delaney looked up at him then. Up past his chin, his full sensuous mouth, and cool gaze. She didn’t trust him. His offer was too nice. “Why would you do that for me?”

“Suspicious?”

“Very.”

He shrugged. “A person could easily crawl through the vents from one building to the other.”

“I knew your offer wasn’t made out of the kindness of your heart.”

He leaned forward and planted his hands on the wall beside her head. “You know me so well.”

His big body blocked the sunlight, but she refused to feel intimidated. “What’s it going to cost me?”

A wicked smile lit his eyes. “Whatcha got?”

Okay, she refused to
show
him that he intimidated her. She lifted her chin a little. “Twenty bucks?”

“Not enough.”

Trapped within his arms, she could hardly breathe. A thin slice of air separated her mouth from his. He was so close she could smell the scent of shaving cream still clinging to his skin. She had to turn her face away. “Forty?” she asked, her voice all squeaky and breathless.

“Uh-uh.” He touched his index finger to her cheek and brought her gaze back to his. “I don’t want your money.”

“What do you want?”

His eyes moved to her mouth and she thought he would kiss her. “I’ll think of something,” he said and pushed away from the wall.

Delaney took a deep breath and watched him disappear into the building next door. She was afraid to think of what that something might be.

Evidently, Wannetta had been true to her word. She told her friends about Delaney. Mrs. Vaughn paid ten dollars, wanted her senior citizen discount, and demanded a free bottle of polish. Delaney took the sign down.

Friday she shampooed and styled another of Wannetta’s friends, and Saturday, Mrs. Stokesberry dropped off two wigs to be cleaned. One white for everyday wear, the other black for special occasions. She picked them up three hours later, and insisted on placing the white wig on her own head.

“You give a senior citizen discount, right?” she asked as she pulled at the hair about her ears.

“Yes.” Delaney sighed, wondering why she was putting up with so much crap from so many people. Her mother, the gray-haired ladies, and Nick. Especially Nick. The answer came to her like the ringing of her cash register. Three million dollars. She could put up with a lot for three million big ones.

As soon as the woman left, Delaney closed the salon early and went to visit her friends Duke and Dolores. The dogs trembled with excitement as they licked her cheeks. At last, friendly faces. She rested her forehead on Duke’s neck and tried not to cry. She failed, just as she was failing with the salon. She hated finger waves and spraying hair into domes. She really hated washing and styling wigs. Most of all, she hated not doing what she loved. And what Delaney loved was making ordinary women look extraordinary. She loved the sound of blow-dryers, the tempo of rapid snipping, and the smell of dyes and perming solutions. She’d loved her life before she’d come back to Truly for Henry’s funeral. She’d had friends and a job she loved.

Seven months and fifteen days, she told herself. Seven months and then she could move anywhere she wanted. She rose to her feet and reached for the dogs’ leashes.

Half an hour later, she returned from walking the dogs and put them back in their pen. She was just about to open her car door when Gwen stepped outside.

“Can you stay for dinner?” her mother asked, wrapping a beige angora sweater around her shoulders.

“No.”

“I’m sorry I had to leave your party early.”

Delaney fished her keys from her pocket. Usually she bit her tongue and held it all inside, but she wasn’t in the mood. “No, I don’t think you are.”

“Of course I am. Why would you say such a thing to me?”

She looked at her mother, at her blue eyes and blond hair cut in a classic bob. “I don’t know,” she answered, deciding to back down from an argument she would lose anyway. “I’ve had a crappy day. I’ll come to dinner tomorrow night if you want.”

“I have plans for tomorrow night.”

“Monday then,” Delaney said as she slid into her car. She waved good-bye, and as soon as she’d returned to her apartment, she called Lisa. “Are you free tonight?” she asked when her friend picked up. “I need a drink, maybe two.”

“Louie’s working late, so I can meet you for a while.”

“Why don’t we meet at Hennesey’s? A blues band is playing there later tonight.”

“Okay, but I’ll probably leave before they start.”

Delaney was a little disappointed, but she was used to being alone. After she hung up the telephone, she took a shower then dressed in a green belly sweater and a pair of jeans. She fluffed her hair, applied her makeup, and put on her Doc Marten’s and leather jacket to walk the three blocks to Hennesey’s. By the time she arrived, it was six-thirty and the bar was filled with the after-work crowd.

Hennesey’s was a fair-sized bar, with the top level looking down on the lower. The tables on both levels were crowded together, and a portable stage had been set up on the large dance floor. For now, the lights inside the bar blazed and the dance floor was empty. Later, that would all change.

Delaney took a table near the end of the bar and was on her first beer when Lisa arrived. She took one look at her friend and raised a finger from her glass and pointed at Lisa’s ponytail. “You should let me cut your hair.”

“No way.” Lisa ordered a Miller Lite, then turned her attention back to Delaney. “Remember what you did to Brigit?”

“Brigit who?”

“The doll my Great-grandmother Stolfus gave me. You cut off her long gold ringlets and made her look like Cyndi Lauper. I’ve been traumatized ever since.”

“I promise you won’t look like Cyndi Lauper. I’ll even do it for free.”

“I’ll think about it.” Lisa’s beer arrived and she paid the waitress. “I ordered the bridesmaid dresses today. When they get here you’ll have to come to my house for a final fitting.”

“Am I going to look like a tour guide on a Southern plantation?”

“No. The dresses are a wine-colored stretch velvet. Just a real simple A line so you don’t draw attention away from the bride.”

Delaney took a sip of beer and smiled. “I couldn’t do that anyway, but you really should think about letting me do your hair for the big day. It’ll be fun.”

“Maybe I’ll let you do a braid or something.” Lisa took a drink. “I booked the caterer for the wedding dinner.”

When the subject of Lisa’s wedding was exhausted, conversation turned to Delaney’s business.

“How is your salon doing these days?”

“Crappy. I had one customer, Mrs. Stokesberry. She dropped off her wig, and I shampooed it like it was a roadkill poodle.”

“Cool job.”

“Tell me about it.”

Lisa took a drink then said, “I don’t want to make you feel worse, but I drove by Helen’s Hair Hut today. She looked fairly busy.”

Delaney frowned into her beer. “I’ve got to do something to steal her business.”

“Do a giveaway. People love to get something for nothing.”

She’d tried that already with the fingernail polish. “I need to advertise,” she said, silently contemplating her options.

“Maybe you should do a little show or something at Sophie’s school. Cut some hair, get some of those girls looking good. Then all the other girls will want you to cut their hair, too.”

“And their mothers will have to keep bringing them back.” Delaney sipped her beer, and thought about the possibilities.

“Don’t look now, but Wes and Scooter Finley just walked in.” Lisa raised her hand to the side of her face as a shield. “Don’t make eye contact or they’ll come over.”

Delaney shielded her face also, but looked through her fingers. “They’re just as ugly as I remember.”

“Just as stupid, too.”

Delaney had graduated with the Finley brothers. They weren’t twins, just repeat offenders. Wes and Scooter were two shades darker than albino with spooky pale eyes. “Do they still think they’re chick magnets?”

Lisa nodded. “Go figure.” When the Finley threat had passed, Lisa lowered her hand and pointed toward two men standing at the bar. “What do you think, boxers or briefs?”

Delaney took one look at their shirts with the big red Chevron logo, their Achy Breaky hair, and said, “Briefs. White. Fruit of the Loom.”

“What about the guy third from the end?”

The man was tall, rail thin, with perfectly layered hair. The yellow sweater tied around his neck told Delaney he was either new in town or a man of great courage. Only a very brave man would walk the streets of Truly with a sweater of any color, let alone yellow, tied around his neck. “Thong, I think. He’s very daring.” Delaney took a drink of her beer and turned her attention to the door.

“Cotton or silk?”

“Silk. Now it’s your turn.”

The two women turned and stared at the door, waiting for their next victim to walk through. He entered less than a minute later, looking as good as Delaney remembered. Tommy Markham’s brown hair still curled about his ears and neck. He was still lean rather than beefy, and when his gaze landed on Delaney, his smile was still as charming as a wayward boy’s. The kind of smile that could make a woman forgive him almost anything.

“You’re driving my wife crazy. You know that don’t you?” he said as he approached their table.

Delaney looked up into Tommy’s blue eyes and placed an innocent hand on her chest. “Me?” There had been a time when the sight of his long lashes had made her heart flutter. She couldn’t help the smile curving her mouth, but her heart was just fine. “What have I done?”

“You moved back.”

Good, she thought. Helen had spent their whole childhood needling Delaney, driving
her
crazy.

Turnabout was certainly fair play. “So, where is the old ball and chain anyway?”

He laughed and sat in the chair next to her. “She and the kids went to a wedding in Challis. They’ll be back tomorrow sometime.”

“Why didn’t you go?” Lisa asked him.

“I have to work in the morning.”

Delaney looked across the table at her friend, who was doing the “he’s married” signal with her eyes. Delaney grinned. Lisa had nothing to worry about. She didn’t sleep with married men—ever. But Helen wouldn’t know that. Let her worry.