Her Accidental Engagement. Michelle Major

Hairhouse. He knew Julia had worked at the salon since her return to Brevia two years ago, but that wasn’t why he avoided this place like the plague. It was too girlie for him. The bottles of hair product and little rows of nail polish on the shelves gave him the heebie-jeebies.

      The one time he’d ventured into the Hairhouse, after the owner had reported a man lurking in the back alley, he’d felt like a prize steer come up for auction.

      He adjusted the brim of his hat, buttoned his jacket against the late-morning rain and started across the street. He’d put the visit off until almost lunchtime, irritated with himself at how much he wanted to see Julia again. Part of him wanted to blame her for making him crazy, but another piece, the part he tried to ignore, wanted to get close enough to her to smell the scent of sunshine on her hair.

      He scrubbed a hand across his face. Sunshine on her hair? What the hell was that about? Women didn’t smell like sunshine. She worked at a salon and probably had a ton of gunk in her hair at any given moment. Although the way the strands had felt soft on his fingers when he’d bent to kiss her last night told another story.

      One he wasn’t interested in reading. Or so he told himself.

      Sam opened the front door and heard a blood-curdling scream from behind the wall at the reception desk. He jerked to attention. He might not spend a lot of time in beauty salons but could guarantee that sound wasn’t typical.

      “I’m going to choke the life out of her,” a woman yelled, “as soon as my nails dry.”

      Nope. Something wasn’t right.

      He glanced at the empty reception desk then stepped through the oversized doorway that led to the main room.

      A pack of women huddled around one of the chairs, Julia in the center of the mix.

      “Is there a problem here, ladies?”

      Seven pairs of eyes, ranging from angry to horrified, turned to him.

      “Sam, thank the Lord you’re here.”

      “You would not believe what happened.”

      “Congrats on your engagement, Chief.”

      The last comment produced silence from the group. He met Julia’s exasperated gaze. “Not a good time,” she mouthed and turned back to the center of the cluster, only to be pushed aside by a woman with a black smock draped around her considerable girth. Sam tried not to gape at her head, where the neat curls framing her face glowed an iridescent pink.

      “There will be time for celebrating later. I want that woman arrested,” Ida Garvey announced. Sam was used to Ida issuing dictatorial commands. She was the wealthiest woman in town, thanks to a generous inheritance from her late husband. Other than the clown hair, she looked like a picture-perfect grandma, albeit one with a sharp tongue and a belief that she ruled the world.

      For an instant, he thought she was pointing at Julia. Then he noticed the young woman hunched in the corner, furiously wiping tears from her cheeks.

      “Ida, don’t be a drama queen.” Julia shook her head. “No one is being arrested. Accidents happen. We’ll fix it, but—”

      “She turned my hair pink!” With a screech, Ida vaulted from the chair and grabbed a curling iron from a stand. “I’m going to kill her!” Ida lunged toward the cowering woman, but Julia stepped into her path. The curling iron dropped, the barrel landing on Julia’s arm before clattering to the floor.

      Julia bit out an oath and Ida screamed again. “Look what you made me do,” she bellowed at the now-sobbing stylist. “I burned her.”

      Sam strode forward with a new appreciation for the simplicity of breaking up a drunken bar brawl. Ida looked into his face then staggered back, one hand fluttering to her chest. “Are you gonna arrest me, Chief?”

      “Sit down, Mrs. Garvey.” He waved at the group of women. “All of you, back off. Now.”

      Ida plopped back into the chair as the group fell silent again.

      Julia winced as he took her arm in his hands. A crimson mark slashed across her wrist, the skin already raised and angry. “Where’s a faucet?”

      “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “Happens all the time.”

      “I sure as hell hope not.”

      “Not exactly like this. I can use the sink in back.” She tugged her arm but he didn’t let go.

      “Don’t anyone move,” he ordered the women. “That means you, Ida.”

      “I don’t need your help,” Julia ground out as he followed her to the back of the salon.

      “You aren’t leaving me alone with that crowd.”

      “Not so brave now.” Julia fumbled with the tap.

      He nudged her out of the way. “I’ll do it. Nice ring. I have good taste.”

      “I had it from... Well, it doesn’t matter.” Her cheeks flamed as she glanced at the diamond sparkling on her left hand. “I thought I should wear something until we had a chance to figure things out. Fewer questions that way. You know how nosy people are, especially in the salon.”

      They needed to talk, but Sam couldn’t get beyond Julia being hurt, even by a curling iron. “Tell me what happened.”

      “Crystal, the one in the corner, is our newest stylist. Ida came in without an appointment and she was the only one available. When she went to mix the color, Ida started barking orders. Crystal got so nervous, she mixed it wrong. Instead of a fluffy white cotton ball, Mrs. Garvey’s head is now glowing neon pink.”

      Sam hid a smile as he drew her arm under the faucet and adjusted the temperature. She closed her eyes and sighed as cold water washed over the burn. He drew small circles on her palm, amazed at the softness of her skin under the pad of his thumb.

      After a moment he asked, “Do you want to press charges?”

      Her eyes flew open, and then she smiled at his expression. “Assault with a deadly styling tool? No, thanks.”

      Her smile softened the angles of her face, made her beauty less ethereal and more earthy. God help him, he loved earthy.

      She must have read something in his eyes because she yanked her hand away and flipped off the water. “I need to get out there before Ida goes after Crystal again.”

      “Did you hire Crystal?”

      “About three weeks ago. She came over from Memphis right out of school to stay with her aunt and needs a break...” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “You think I’m an idiot for hiring a girl with so little experience.”

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “Everyone thinks Val’s a fool to leave me in charge. They’re waiting for me to mess up.” She wrapped her arms around her waist then flinched when the burn touched her sweater. “And here I am.”

      Sam knew Val Dupree, the Hairhouse’s longtime owner, was planning to retire, and Julia was working to secure a loan to buy the business. She was acting as the salon’s manager while Val spent the winter in Florida. “No one expects you to mess up.”

      “You’ve been in town long enough to know what people think of me.”

      The words held no malice, but she said them with a quiet conviction. Sam wanted to take her in his arms to soothe her worry and at the same time shake some sense into her. “Was it a mistake to hire Crystal?”

      “No.” She looked at him as though she expected an argument. When he offered none she continued, “She’s good. Or she will be. I know it.”

      “Then we’d better make sure Ida Garvey doesn’t attack your future star again.”

      “Right.” She led him back into the main salon, where Ida still pinned Crystal to the wall