Truly Madly Yours (28 page)

They both fell silent and Delaney thought about Nick and what she felt about him. Jealousy for sure. The thought of him with another woman made her stomach knot. Anxious, wondering when she might see him again, and disappointment at knowing it was probably best if she didn’t.

She let down the remainder of Sophie’s hair and slightly beveled the ends so it would curl under easily at her shoulders. She grabbed a big round brush and blew it dry. Mostly Delaney felt confused.

“Why are you being nice?”

“How do you know I am? You haven’t seen the back of your hair yet.” She gave Sophie a hand mirror and spun her around.

Relief flooded the girl’s eyes when she saw her hair hadn’t been butchered. “I don’t have money to pay you.”

“I don’t want your money.” Delaney removed the cape and neck strip and lowered the chair. “When someone asks you where you got your hair cut, you tell them at the Cutting Edge, but if you go home and start washing your beautiful hair with something harsh and it starts looking like hell again, you tell everyone you got it cut at Helen’s Hair Hut.” She thought she detected a slight smile but wasn’t quite sure. “No more notes, and I’ll accept your apology when you really mean it.”

Stone-faced, Sophie studied her reflection. Her eyes met Delaney’s, then she walked to the front of the salon and grabbed her coat. After she walked out the door, Delaney watched her move down the sidewalk. Sophie waited half a block before she ran her fingers through her hair and tossed her head. Delaney smiled. She recognized the signs of a pleased customer.

She turned from the window and wondered what Sophie’s family would think.

The next morning she found out as she decorated her salon for the Christmas season. Nick walked into the front door of her salon wearing his leather jacket and platinum Oakley’s. Delaney had just started coffee brewing and was preparing for her nine-thirty appointment. She had a half an hour before Wannetta Van Damme teetered in for her monthly finger wave.

“Sophie told me you cut her hair.”

Delaney set a roll of clear tape and a string of green garland on her styling station counter. Her heart hitched a beat and she placed a hand on her stomach. “Yes, I did.”

He reached for his sunglasses and slid his gaze down her black turtleneck and short kilt skirt to her black riding boots. “How much do I owe you?” he asked as he shoved his Oakley’s in his jacket pocket and pulled out a checkbook.

“Nothing.” He raised his gaze to hers once again, and she lowered hers to the middle of his chest. She couldn’t look in his eyes and think at the same time. “I cut hair sometimes just for promotion.” She turned to her station and straightened a jar of sanitized combs. She heard his footsteps behind her but kept her attention on her work.

“She also told me she’s the one who left those threatening notes.”

Delaney looked up into his reflection in the mirror as he moved toward her. He unzipped his jacket, and beneath it, he wore a blue flannel shirt tucked into his Levi’s and a leather woven belt. “I’m surprised she told you.”

“After you cut her hair, she started feeling so guilty she broke down and confessed last night.” He stopped directly behind her. “I don’t think she should be rewarded with a free hair cut.”

“I didn’t see it as ... a .. .” She locked at him through the glass and forgot what she’d been about to say. He was so bad for her mental health. He was so close, if she leaned back just a little, she could press herself into his big chest.

“You didn’t see it as what?”

The smell of crisp morning air clung to him. She took a deep breath, pulling the scent of him deep into her lungs.

“Delaney?”

“Hmm?” Then she did lean back, her shoulders into his chest, her behind pressed into his groin. He was solid and fully aroused. He brought one hand around to her stomach and he drew her tight against him. Delaney followed his gaze to his long fingers splayed wide across her abdomen. His thumb brushed the underside of her right breast.

“When is your first appointment this morning?” he asked close to her ear. He pushed the edge of her turtleneck and kissed the side of her throat.

Her eyes drifted closed, and she tilted her head to one side to give him better access. He cared about her. He had to. “In about twenty minutes.”

“I could give us what we both need in fifteen.” His fingers brushed her sensitive flesh through the cotton of her shirt.

She was falling in love with him. She could feel it happen like a fierce undertow, pulling at her, sweeping her feet from beneath her, and there was nothing she could do about it except maybe save herself a little pain. She looked into his stunning face and said, “I don’t want to be just another of your women, Nick. I want more.”

He raised his gaze to hers. “What do you want?”

“While I’m here, I want to be the only woman you’re with. Just me.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I want you to make love only to me. I want you to get rid of your other women.”

His hand stilled and he studied her for several long moments. “You want me to ‘get rid’ of all the women I’m supposed to be screwing to make some sort of commitment to you for what... six months?”

“Yes.”

“What do I get in return?”

She’d been afraid he’d ask that question. There was only one answer she could give him, and she was aware he might not think it enough. “Me.”

“For six months.”

“Yes.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I want to make love with you, but I don’t want to share you with anyone.”

“You say the word ‘love’ a lot.” He straightened and dropped his hand from her abdomen. “Do you love me?”

She was scared as hell she did and afraid of what it meant. “No.”

“Good, because I don’t love you.” He took a step back and zipped his jacket. “You know what they say about me, wild thing. I can’t be faithful to one woman, and you haven’t said anything that would make me want to try.” He took a few more steps backward. “If you want hot, sweaty sex, you know where to find me. If you want someone to beg for crumbs at your table for a few months, find someone else.”

She didn’t want him to beg for anything and didn’t really know what he meant, only that she wasn’t enough for him. After he left Delaney wanted nothing more than to curl up in a tight ball and cry. Maybe she should have taken those fifteen minutes he offered, but she was more selfish than that. She didn’t share. Not men, and especially not Nick. She wanted him all to herself. Unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same. Because of the risk he’d taken to be with her, she’d been so sure he cared. She guessed not.

Now she didn’t have to think about what loving Nick meant. She didn’t have to consider the repercussions or what to do about them. All she had to do was get through the next six months.

Delaney was almost sorry she’d missed seeing Marty in his underwear, but she’d been busy at the Grange hall decorating for the fashion show. She helped decorate the stage with silver stars and tinsel and the runway with pine boughs and Christmas lights. Backstage, she set up lighted mirrors and chairs. She brought gel and mousse, big cans of hair spray and little sprigs of holly. She figured the people of Truly weren’t ready for anything as extreme as style show hair. No rose bushes or bird’s nests for these ladies. She brought pictures of braids and twists and ponytails she could arrange in ten to fifteen minutes per head.

The show was set to start at seven, and by six-thirty, Delaney was deep into her work. She braided hair into ropes and knots, turned them inside out and upside down. She twisted and tucked and rolled and listened to the latest dish, secretly relieved Marty had taken her place on the menu.

“One of the nurses at the hospital told Patsy Thomason who told me that Marty had on one of those lace thongs, too,” the mayor’s wife, Lillie Tanasee, informed Delaney as she braided a coronet in the woman’s auburn hair. Lillie had decked herself and her young daughter out in matching red and green taffeta. “Patsy said the merry widow and panties were from Victoria’s Secret. Can you imagine anything so tawdry?”

Delaney had worked with many gay hairdressers over the years, but she’d never met a cross dresser—not that she knew, anyway. “At least he isn’t cheap. I don’t mind tawdry as much as I mind cheap.”

“My husband bought me one of those nylon crotchless numbers,” confessed a woman waiting her turn in the chair. She covered the ears of the little girl dressed as an elf standing next to her. “It was three sizes too small and so cheap I felt like a low-rent prostitute.”

Delaney shook her head as she wove a few holly berries into Lillie’s hair. “Nothing like cheap lingerie to make a woman feel like a hooker.” She grabbed a tall can and sprayed down Lillie’s head. The mayor’s daughter Misty jumped into the chair next, and Delaney styled her hair to replicate her mother’s. Several women who’d done their own hair stood away from the others; Benita Allegrezza was one of them. Out of the corner of her eye, Delaney watched Nick’s mother speak with a group of her friends. She figured Benita was in her mid-fifties, but looked a good ten years older. She wondered if it was genes or bitterness that had etched the lines in her forehead and around her mouth. She glanced around for her mother and wasn’t surprised when she spied her in the middle of the action, her hair already perfect. Helen was nowhere to be seen, but Delaney wasn’t surprised by her absence.

Those who chose to sit in Delaney’s chair ranged in age and style of dress. Some wore elegant velvets, others elaborate costumes. Delaney’s favorite was a young mother dressed as Mrs. Winter and her toddler in a snowflake costume. She got her biggest surprise when Lisa arrived impersonating a sugarplum and wanting her hair braided in a French rope. Delaney had talked to her friend several times since she’d returned from her honeymoon a few weeks past. They’d had lunch a couple of times, but Lisa hadn’t mentioned she planned to participate. “When did you decide to be in the show?”

“Last weekend. I thought it might be nice for me and Sophie to do something together.”

Delaney looked around. “Where is Sophie?” For a brief moment she wondered if Lisa knew about the notes Sophie had been leaving, but she supposed Lisa would have mentioned it by now.

“Changing. She was helping Louie and Nick work on their ice sculpture. When I picked her up from Larkspur Park, she wasn’t wearing a hat and her coat was unzipped. It’ll be a miracle if she isn’t sick tomorrow.”

“What is she changing into?”

“A nightgown we made. We were inspired by ‘The Night Before Christmas.’ ”

“How do you get along with Sophie now that you live with her?” Delaney asked as she gathered a handful of Lisa’s hair and divided it into three sections at the crown of her head.

“It’s a pretty big adjustment for both of us. I like her to eat at the kitchen table, and she’s been allowed to graze like a free-range chicken all of her life. Just little stuff like that. If she weren’t thirteen it might be easier.” Lisa looked in the mirror and adjusted the felt leaves around her neck. “Louie and I want a baby, but we think we should wait until Sophie gets used to having me around before we bring another child into the family.”

A baby. She used all her fingers as she braided and twisted Lisa’s hair down the back. Lisa and Louie were planning a family. Delaney didn’t even have a boyfriend, and when she thought of a man in her life, there was only one who entered her head—Nick. She thought about him a lot lately. Even while she slept. She’d had another bad dream the other night, only this time the days progressed and her car hadn’t disappeared. She’d been free to leave Truly, but the thought of never seeing Nick again tore at her heart. She didn’t know which was worse, living in the same town and ignoring him, or not living in the same town and not forcing herself to ignore him. She was confused and pathetic and thought maybe she should just give into the inevitable and buy a cat. “I suppose you heard about Marty Wheeler,” she said in an effort to divert her thoughts.

“Of course. I wonder what makes a man want to slip on a merry widow under his Santa suit. You know, those things are really uncomfortable.”

“Did you hear about the lace thong?” Delaney grabbed an elastic band and secured the end of the French rope. Then she tucked it under with a bobby pin.

Lisa stood and straightened her costume. “Go figure. Can you imagine the wedgie?”

“It hurts just to think about it.” She caught sight of Sophie standing a few feet away, trying not to look embarrassed and guilty in her long nightgown and the kerchief on her head. “Do you want me to braid your hair?” she asked the thirteen-year-old.

Sophie shook her head and looked away. “It’s almost our turn, Lisa.”

After Lisa left to take her stroll down the catwalk, Delaney rolled Neva Miller’s hair in an inverted pony tail, then gave her four daughters upside-down braids. Neva talked nonstop about her church, her husband Pastor Tim, and the Lord. Her mouth took on that born again, Jesus-loves-me-more-than-you smile, tempting Delaney to ask Neva if she remembered blowing the football team during halftime.

“You should come to our church tomorrow,” Neva said as she herded her girls toward the stage. “We meet from nine till noon.”

Delaney would rather burn in hell for eternity. She packed up her remaining supplies and went in search of her mother. She wouldn’t see Gwen until after the new year, and she wanted to say goodbye and wish her a nice trip. For years she’d spent the holidays with friends who took pity on her and invited her over for Christmas dinner. This year she’d be completely alone, and she realized as she hugged her mother and promised to look after Duke and Dolores that she really did want to spend Christmas at home like she used to. Especially now that Max was in the picture. The lawyer seemed to be able to distract her mother from criticizing everything in Delaney’s life.

Snow fell on her head as she loaded everything into Henry’s Cadillac. She didn’t have her gloves and her hands froze as she scraped windows. She was exhausted and her shoulders ached, and she hooked the corner behind her salon a little too fast. The Caddie slid sideways into the parking lot and finally stopped with the rear fender blocking the door to Allegrezza Construction. Delaney figured the brothers wouldn’t be working the next day, and she was too tired to care anyway. She changed into a nightshirt and crawled into bed. It seemed to her as if she hadn’t slept long before someone pounded on her door. She squinted at the clock on her bedside table as the pounding continued. It was nine-thirty Sunday morning, and she didn’t have to actually see Nick to know who stood on her porch beating down the door. She grabbed her red silk robe but didn’t bother to wash her face or brush her hair. She figured he deserved to be scared for waking her up so early on her day off.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?” were the first words out of his mouth as he stormed into her apartment looking like the wrath of God.

“Me? I’m not the one pounding down your door like a lunatic.”

He folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head to the side. “Do you plan to slide your way through town all winter, or just until you kill yourself?”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried.” She tied the silk belt securely around her waist, then walked past him toward the kitchen. “That might mean you actually care about me.”

He wrapped his hand around her upper arm and stopped her. “There are certain parts of your body I care about.”

She looked into his face, at his lips compressed into a straight line, the slash of his brow, and the desire raging in his eyes. He was angrier than she’d ever seen him, but he couldn’t hide wanting her. “If you want me, you know my terms. No other women.”

“Yeah, and we both know it would take me about two minutes to get you to change your mind.”

She’d learned months ago that if she argued he’d take it as a challenge just to prove her wrong. She wanted to believe she could resist temptation, but deep down she feared he’d have a minute and thirty seconds to spare. She twisted from his grasp and walked into the kitchen.

“Give me the keys to Henry’s car,” he called after her.

“Why?” She pulled the reservoir from her coffee maker and filled it with water. “What are you going to do, steal it?”

The slam of the front door answered her. She set the reservoir on the counter and walked into the living room. Her purse was dumped out on the coffee table and she had a feeling her keys were missing. She ran out onto her porch, and her feet sunk in snow at the edge of the first step. “Hey,” she called down to the top of his head, “what do you think you’re doing? Give me my keys back, you jerk!”

His laughter drifted up to her. “Come on down here and take ‘em.”

There were several good reasons she could think of to walk barefoot in the snow. A burning building, rat infestation, a slice of chocolate cheese cake, but Henry’s Cadillac wasn’t one of them.

Nick jumped into the silver car and fired it up. He scraped a portion of the windshield, and then he was gone. By the time he got back an hour later, Delaney was fully dressed and waiting for him at her front door.

“You’re lucky I didn’t call the sheriff,” she told him as he walked up the stairs toward her.

He took her hand and dropped the keys in her palm. His eyes were on the same level as hers, and his mouth inches from her lips. “Slow down.”

Slow down
? Her heart raced and her breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to kiss her. He was so close, if she leaned forward just a little . . .

“Slow down before you kill yourself,” he said, then turned and headed back down the stairs.

Disappointment slowed her racing heart to a distressing thud. Over the side of the rail, she watched him walk into his office, then she moved to the Cadillac parked below. She peered through the windows at the cans of hair spray and gel she’d thrown in the back the night before. No dents. No dings. The car looked the same as it always had— except it now had four studded snow tires, so new they shone.