Hometown Courtship. Diann Hunt

      

      Callie looked at her client’s cranberry-polished nails. “That’s it, Mrs. Frantz. You’re free to go.”

      “Thank you, dear.” The old woman stuffed a ten-dollar tip into Callie’s hand, then hobbled out the door.

      “What is she, three hundred years old by now?” Jessica asked, opening a box and examining the contents.

      “Jessica, shh—she will hear you.”

      “Her?” Jessica asked, pointing. “That woman hasn’t heard anything since 1973. She’s got pretty nails, though, I’ll give her that.”

      Callie suppressed a giggle and began to clean her manicure station. “You’d better behave yourself or Aunt Bonnie will get you.”

      “Yeah, right. I’ve seen puppies more fierce than her on her worst day.”

      Everyone knew Aunt Bonnie was as sweet as they came.

      Jessica glanced at her watch. “You sure you can cover for me while I take Mom to the doctor?”

      “Absolutely. You go ahead and go.” Callie looked at the box of new inventory. “Hey, didn’t we get another box of the setting gel?”

      “Yeah, a small one. It’s in the back room,” Jessica said, without looking up.

      “Great. Let me get that before you take off.”

      “No problem.”

      As Callie walked into the back room, she heard the front door swoosh open. A man’s voice said someone had recommended he come to the salon for a haircut.

      “It just so happens there’s a stylist in the back who can help you. Go ahead and take a seat by the wash basin.” Jessica popped into the back room. “You have a customer.” She raised her eyebrows and let out a low whistle. “Too bad I have to leave.”

      Callie rolled her eyes and walked past her toward the front. Facing the back of the customer’s head, Callie pulled product from the shelf.

      “So, this is your first time here?” she asked, working the shampoo into his hair.

      “Uh-huh.” His words vibrated as her fingers massaged his scalp.

      He didn’t offer anything else, so Callie let her mind meander while she finished the job. Once she rinsed away the bubbles, she flipped up his chair and towel-dried his hair.

      “If you’ll follow me,” she said, leading the way to her cutting station.

      He settled into his seat. She swiveled him around to face the mirror. That’s when they saw each other for the first time. Callie’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. By the look of Brad Sharp, she would say he wasn’t doing any better.

      “I, uh, my sister-in-law told me to come here. I didn’t know you worked here. My barber retired, I needed a place—”

      The way his words tumbled into one another might have been funny if she wasn’t still mad at him for his behavior on the job.

      She swung the scissors toward him, opening and closing them a couple of times for good measure. He squirmed in his seat, which satisfied her immensely.

      “My aunt and uncle own this place. This is where I work.” Snip, snip, snip. He had nice hair. Really didn’t need much of a cut, but guys like him kept their hair groomed to perfection.

      “Listen, about this morning—”

      “Yes?” She stopped and stared at him through the mirror. She kept the scissors poised and dangerously close to his ear. Clint Eastwood’s words played in her head. “Go ahead, make my day.”

      “I’m sorry if I came across too harsh.”

      Well, she hadn’t seen that one coming. Snip, snip, snip. “Don’t worry about it. You did what you had to do.”

      She could feel him looking at her and glanced at him through the mirror.

      “Thanks.” It was all he said, but the way he said it sent a slow tingle that started at the top of her spine and shimmied all the way down.

      “So how did you get into construction?” she asked, warmth spreading through her fingers as they brushed the back of his neck and feathered through his hair.

      “I’ve been at it for as long as I can remember. I’ve worked overseas, building homes for the poor.”

      She stopped cutting and looked up at him. “Really?” Her toppled knight in shining armor was quickly regaining his position on the white horse.

      They discussed the Make a Home project when suddenly a telephone call on his cell phone cut their conversation short. Thankfully, she had finished his hair before he had to go. He paid for his trim and bounded out of the salon as quickly as his legs could carry him.

      She couldn’t help wondering what had really brought him to their salon.

      Chapter Three

      Brianna and Ryan were in this together. Someone was going to pay.

      Brad peeled out of the parking lot faster than he had intended. The last thing he wanted was for Callie to witness his little outburst. He was thankful a caller with a wrong number gave him an excuse to leave.

      “I don’t believe she did this to me.” One glance at the speedometer told him he’d better settle down or he’d be standing before the judge. At the first stoplight, he picked up his cell phone and hit speed dial.

      “Hello?” Ryan said with disgusting innocence.

      “You set me up,” Brad snapped.

      “What are you talking about?”

      “Come on, Ryan, you know good and well what I’m talking about. Brianna purposely sent me to that hair place because Callie Easton works there.”

      “She does?”

      “Oh, no, you don’t. You of all people should know lying doesn’t work.”

      “Okay, so we knew she worked there. What’s the big deal? It’s still a great place for a haircut. You needed a recommendation, and Brianna gave you one. What’s the harm?”

      A growl rumbled in his throat.

      “Listen, little brother, I’d like to talk with you, but Brianna’s just put dinner on the table. You know how she is when dinner gets cold. Talk to you later.”

      “Oh, that’s nice. Real nice.” Brad tossed his phone on the seat and sped off. His gut coiled. The last thing he wanted was for Callie to think he was interested. Okay, so he’d flirted with her at the bakery. But knowing she was a plant of his brother’s changed things and the princess image didn’t sit well with him, either. No matter how much her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and her soft hands felt warm against his skin.

      Once home, Brad stepped into his office. He handled all his paperwork for his jobs from his office at home, saving him the expense of a secretary. Keeping expenses down and doing some extra carpentry work on the side afforded him the opportunity to oversee the Make a Home projects and save money to go back to work in South America. He may not be rich, but he enjoyed his life—as a bachelor.

      He went out now and then, but he hadn’t met anyone he would want to share his life with. In fact, he’d given up on the idea. He could think of worse things than bachelorhood. Besides, he’d been too busy to think about women lately.

      Hammer trotted into the room and gave Brad’s leg a nudge. He reached down and rubbed his back. “How you doing, boy?”

      Sticking two invoices into their appropriate files, Brad sharpened a couple of pencils, stuck them in his caddy and took a final glance around the room. Satisfied that everything was in its place, he walked out.

      “Come on, boy,” he