I decided to lose myself in trivial shit on Facebook while I waited for my sandwich. I looked at the time on my phone and realized I’d already been there for ten minutes. How the fuck long did it take to scoop chicken salad onto a plate and add chips? Shit! I remembered that I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and soup instead. I had an appointment soon, and I didn’t want to be late. I loathed running late. I looked suspiciously at the kitchen window and noticed it was pretty damn quiet in there. I had a sneaky suspicion that Emma was up to no good and was about to get up and investigate when I saw Daniella walk by the kitchen window with my lunch.
“Here you go, honey,” Daniella said. “I’m sorry it took so long. I had to take a few carryout orders.”
That was a relief because I had convinced myself that Emma had snuck outside on her cell phone to call my mom, who just happened to be her best friend since kindergarten. The last thing I needed was Roberta “Bertie” Roman dialing me up and threatening to come back to Ohio to fix whatever was bothering me. She might’ve been over a thousand miles away, but she was still my mom, and I was her only child. I was on the receiving end of all her maternal focus and attention, and it got to be a little much at times.
I bit into my grilled cheese, and all my cares momentarily faded away. My only thoughts were of buttery toasted bread and the cheesy goodness in the middle. I must’ve moaned my appreciation out loud because I heard a male chuckle coming from behind me.
“Good stuff, huh?”
I wanted to hang my head in resignation or perhaps crawl beneath the table to avoid the conversation that I knew was about to take place. How the hell did I miss the big hulking figure of the hunky town vet when I walked into the diner? I blamed Gabe for that too—for everything odd that happened in my life since the moment we first spoke.
Sure enough, I heard the scraping sound of someone scooting their chair back from a table followed by footsteps that got louder as they approached me. Finally, Dr. Studly stood in front of my table smiling down at me. “May I?” He gestured to the empty booth across from me with his hand.
I wanted to say no, I wanted to stretch my feet beneath the table and prop them up on the other bench seat to block him from sitting down, but instead, I acted like a mature adult. “Sure.” I glanced at the clock on the wall and amended, “But I don’t have long.”
“Fair enough,” Kyle said amicably as he slid into the booth across me. “I won’t keep you.” He offered me a friendly smile before he said, “So, you and Gabe, huh?”
“Nope.” It was true; there was no me and Gabe. I didn’t know what someone would call us. We weren’t fuck buddies because we weren’t buddies. I knew virtually nothing about the man except that I liked to climb all over him like a human jungle gym. We certainly weren’t in a relationship. Just thinking the word gave me the heebie-jeebies.
“That’s too bad,” Kyle said, surprising the hell out of me. “I think you’d be really good for him.”
“You do?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“I do,” he said, nodding his head. “Gabe is a good man—a great man, really, but he could stand to shake things up a bit.” I knew that people probably said the same about me. It sounded like that was the one thing that Gabe and I might have in common besides sex. “I want Gabe to be happy.”
“And you think I could do that?” The scoff he heard in my voice made him smile. “I’m not the person he’s looking for in life,” I said with a shake of my head.
“Don’t be so certain, Josh.” Kyle slid out of the booth and patted me on the shoulder. “I don’t think you should be so quick to dismiss the idea that the two of you are well suited for one another.”
I could do nothing but stare at him with my mouth open. He had to be joking, right? What did Kyle know, or think he knew, that I didn’t?
“I’ll see you around,” Kyle said. He turned and walked to the register to pay his bill.
“Later,” I said in a quiet, awed voice.
I snapped out of my stunned stupor and concentrated on eating my lunch so I could get back to work. It was safe there; everything had its place and purpose. I was in control, and there was no guess work, no uncertainty.
“How was your chicken salad and potato chips?” Chaz asked when I returned to the salon.
“I had grilled cheese and veggie beef soup,” I replied, absently. Then I realized that all the noise in the salon stopped. I looked up, and all the stylists, their clients, and Chaz were looking at me funny. “What?”
My newest stylist, Marci, turned to look at her mentor, and fellow stylist, Heather. “What day is this?”
“Wednesday,” Heather said in shock like I’d just squatted in the middle of the floor and took a shit.
“Oh, come on, guys,” I said in exasperation. “I just wanted to try something a little different.”
“So we’ve heard,” said Janet Wiseman, the client in Marci’s chair. “Seems like a little romance is brewing between you and that sexy detective.”
“Damn that man is fine,” Marci said.
“Pin me down and do me, baby,” I heard Savage call out from the other room. “Uh, yeah.” Thank God for small favors, because the blue bird figuratively swooped in and pulled the focus off me. I decided I would give him an extra treat later after I closed the salon for the day.
“Sounds like your bird wants to take your man, Josh,” said Brenda Calhoun, who was sitting beneath the dryers. I had no idea how she heard anything under that hood.
“He’s not my man,” I said between gritted teeth.
The bells above the door chimed, and a tall blonde woman walked in and gave her name to Chaz. He pointed over to me, and she looked in my direction. I didn’t connect the name to a face when I saw it on my list of appointments for the day, but I realized who she was the second I laid eyes on her. Sally Ann Goode, the wife of Gabe’s partner. I had to wonder if this was a coincidence or if she was another busybody.
Sally Ann hung her coat on the rack and then began walking to my station. The smile she gave me was warm and friendly, not at all conniving. “Hi, I’m Sally Ann,” she said, extending her hand to me.
“Josh Roman.” I shook her hand. “Why don’t you have a seat so we can get started.” Sally Ann sat in my chair, and I draped a cape over her body, securing it behind her neck. I ran my fingers through her hair and pulled it back from her heart-shaped face. I looked into the mirror and caught her eyes. “What did you have in mind today?”
“I want a big change,” she said, her eyes shining with excitement. “I want to cut off enough hair to donate it to an organization who makes wigs for children with cancer. Can you help me with that?”
“Absolutely,” I replied. “How short are we talking? Do you have a picture of a particular cut you like?”
Sally Ann reached beneath the cape and pulled out her cell phone. She swiped it on and said, “I have a few ideas. Maybe you can help me figure out which one looks better with the shape of my face.”
She showed me a few different hairstyles that varied from shoulder to chin length. “They’d all look really good on you, so it’s just a matter of how much hair you want to cut.”
She chewed on her lips for a second and then went with the shortest of them all, just as I expected she would. I had learned a long time ago that women took great pride in their hair. They would often feel negative about their bodies or maybe their looks but would take comfort in the fact that they had long, lush hair.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She thought quietly for a few seconds and then nodded her head rapidly. “Let’s do it.”
I pulled her hair back into a rubber band where I needed to make my initial cut. I looked at her in the mirror and raised my brows in question while holding the scissors up for her to see. Her answer was an emphatic nod, so I made the first cut fast then held up the long ponytail of hair for her to see.
She squealed and covered her mouth in what appeared to be nerves and excitement. Of course, the hair le
ft on her head looked all jagged and uneven—not at all what she envisioned. “It’s going to look great,” I said confidently.
“I believe you,” she replied with a smile.
I guided Sally Ann back to the sinks and made sure she was comfortable before I tipped her head back into the groove made to support her neck. I started washing her hair and smiled when happy purrs escaped her.
“I could hire you to wash my hair every day,” she said, as I massaged her scalp all over. “This is almost better than sex.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her comparison, although I imagined it was quite an exaggeration. Surely Adrian Goode’s bedroom skills were better than a scalp massage. His partner’s sure… I wouldn’t allow myself to complete that thought. Nope. Not going there.
Once I finished washing and conditioning Sally Ann’s hair, we moved back to my station. “This is when the magic happens, right?” she asked.
“Oh yeah,” I said brashly, parting her hair in segments. “You’ll feel like a new person when you leave.”
“I’m counting on it.”
I expected her to mention Gabe at least once in conversation while I cut her hair, but she never did. She talked about meeting Adrian a few years ago and falling in love. She laughed as she told me how different her life became when she moved to a small town. She even talked about teaching school and how much she loved working with kids. Not one time did she bring up Gabe.
I turned her away from the mirror while I dried and styled her hair. I loved seeing the expressions on my clients’ faces when I spun the chair around, and they saw their reflections for the first time. I adored how Sally Ann’s hair was turning out, and it looked even better than the picture she showed me.
“Are you ready?” I asked her.
“Yes!” Her eyes grew as big as wagon wheels when she saw her reflection in the mirror. “Oh, my!” She covered her mouth and blinked several times before she smoothed her hands over her sleek new style. “Oh, Josh, it’s perfect. It’s even better than I imagined.” She stood up quickly from her chair and turned to hug me. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.” I patted her back. “You do look amazing.”
“Adrian is going to love it,” she said, but I wasn’t convinced. It seemed like most straight men loved long hair on women and I hoped he wouldn’t be gunning for me later that night.
“What matters is how much you love it,” I replied, and I meant it.
“Thank you so much.” She threw her arms around me once more. I couldn’t help but laugh at her exuberance. Sally Ann practically floated over to the register where Chaz waited to ring her up. She returned several minutes later while I was sweeping up the hair mess off the floor. “Here you go,” she said, handing me a very generous tip. “I didn’t know you offered massage services here too. I bought a gift certificate for my husband’s partner. His birthday is on Sunday, and I think a good massage would be a great way for him to get rid of some tension.”
“Um, yeah. Massages are great for that.” So are mind-blowing orgasms, but I didn’t think Sally Ann wanted to hear that.
“I’ll see you in about a month to get my hair trimmed,” she said, sliding on her coat.
“I look forward to it,” I said and meant it. She was an easy person to be around who didn’t even attempt to pry into my life.
The rest of my workday went relatively fast for which I was grateful. I made sure to push every image of Gabe wearing nothing but a white sheet in my massage room out of my mind. I ignored the unsettled feelings I had when I pictured Josi’s hands all over Gabe’s body as she worked the tension out of his muscles. I refused to even think about the implication of what that feeling in the pit of my stomach meant. Gabe meant nothing to me. His body was free to be touched by someone—anyone—other than me.
I had just made it upstairs to fix myself some dinner when my cell phone rang. I thought about ignoring it but figured whoever it was would just call right back. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was my mom, and I silently cursed Emma and her busybody ways.
“Hi, Mama,” I said in greeting.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Mom asked. “Tell Mama.”
“Nothing is wrong.” I tried to assure her, but I knew it was going to take more than a few words to make Bertie Roman believe me.
I arrived at the precinct a little earlier than normal so that I was primed and ready for our interview with the mayor. Adrian was already at his desk when I arrived, whistling and looking livelier than normal.
“Morning.” I sat down and powered up my computer. “How’s Sally Ann feeling?”
“She’s doing great, partner. She’s feeling less nauseous as she approaches the twelve-week mark and starting to have more energy.” A sly smile slid across my partner’s face, and then he said, “She met your guy yesterday afternoon when he cut her hair. He made her very, very happy and I reaped the benefits.” Adrian winked playfully, and I just shook my head.
“He’s not my guy,” I argued, but I noticed there wasn’t a lot of conviction behind my words. I didn’t even sound convincing to my own ears so how did I expect others to believe me? I didn’t know what was going on with Josh; he was a complete mystery to me. He played things extremely close to the vest and didn’t seem like he wanted me to know anything personal about him. Well, beyond finding his prostate and making him moan with pleasure anyway.
“Yet,” Adrian said with confidence that I didn’t feel.
I wasn’t even sure I wanted Josh to be my guy. We were both honest when we said that we weren’t sure we liked one another. It all went back to not knowing enough about him. I mean, what if he was one of those people who talked throughout a movie or made a lot of noise when he ate? Worse, what if he wore socks during sex or to bed? I watched as he removed them the last time, but I had no idea if that was a fluke on his part. Those were important things to know.
I opened my mouth to respond, but Rocky Beaumont showed up with his slick-as-fuck lawyer just then. The lawyer stood in his pristine suit that probably cost more than my monthly salary, looking around the precinct like every single one of us was beneath him. I hated him upon first sight.
Then I took in the sight of Rocky, who attempted to stand all big and bad next to his overpriced mouthpiece. He reminded me of a bulldog with his smashed-in face and short, stocky build. That smashed face was cute on a dog, but not so much on a human. I didn’t know if Rocky was a killer, but I knew without a doubt that he was a poor excuse for a human being. He sure as hell was a pathetic excuse for a husband and I doubted his parenting skills were much better.
Adrian and I rose from our chairs and walked over to greet the pair. “Mr. Mayor,” I said respectfully, “my name is Detective Wyatt, and this is Detective Goode. Thank you for coming in today and speaking with us.”
“Were you the same men who went to my home yesterday and harassed my wife?” he demanded to know.
“Is that what Mrs. Beaumont said?” Adrian asked him doubtfully.
“You had no business speaking to my client’s wife in an attempt to get information out of her to use against him,” the pompous windbag lawyer said.
The captain approached our small group. “I think we should take this to an interview room.” Once inside the interview room, the captain turned to the lawyer and held out his hand. “Captain Shawn Reardon,” he said, introducing himself and gesturing with his hands for us all to have a seat at the table.
“Nash Carrington the third,” replied the slick bastard. “I was just telling your detectives that they had no business interviewing Nadine Beaumont without me being present.”
“I don’t agree,” the captain said in a clipped tone. “Quite frankly, you said that you represented Rocky Beaumont, not Rocky and Nadine Beaumont. Someone as smart as you surely are should know that we’d want to talk to Georgia Beaumont’s former assistant about people who might potentially want to hurt Georgia and then ransack her house looking for something.”
�
�We didn’t ask a single question about Rocky, his whereabouts, or their relationship,” I told the lawyer. “However, Nadine voluntarily told us that Rocky was in Tennessee on a hunting trip when we were leaving her home. We were shocked to hear that from her because Mr. Beaumont’s secretary stated that he was in Columbus at a mayoral convention.” I pinned Rocky with a look that told him I wasn’t fucking around. “Where were you really, sir?”
Rocky looked at his lawyer for guidance on whether or not he should answer the question. Mr. Fancy Pants City Slicker didn’t look too happy with his client at the moment. He probably could have cared less if Rocky was a killer, but he did care if he was made to look a fool in front of us low life hicks. Carrington the third nodded at Rocky to answer the question.
“Um, I was at the cabin in Tennessee,” Rocky answered reluctantly.
“Alone?” Adrian asked.
“No,” Rocky replied, but offered nothing further.
“We’re going to need the name of who you were with to corroborate your story,” I told Rocky. I could tell by the guilty look on his face that whoever he was with was not a cousin unless it was of the kissing variety.
“Look,” Windbag the third said in a lowered voice. “My client doesn’t want this to get back to his wife. What he’s about to tell you has nothing at all to do with the death of Georgia Beaumont, and I’d appreciate it if this could stay private.”
“Let us be the ones to decide if this is relevant to our homicide investigation,” I said hotly. I had no use for his bullshit. “We’re not in the business of destroying marriages,” I told the two men sitting across from me.
“I was with someone that I don’t want my wife to know about,” Rocky said, obviously not concerned about wasting our time as he doled out one little tidbit after the other.
Welcome to Blissville Page 13
