by Jane Porter
“I need to check Charity’s color,” she said huskily.
“I know it’s last minute, but have dinner with me tomorrow. We can try those margaritas at Rosita’s. What do you say?”
There was no way she could say no. It was what she’d been wanting ever since he left. A proper night out, just the two of them together. “Yes.”
After work Friday, Amanda showered and changed into on one of her favorite dresses, another Charity design, which was probably a knock-off of a true vintage dress. It was navy, with a slightly asymmetrical neckline in cream, with three-quarter sleeves, and narrow cream cuffs. The bodice was fitted, accenting her shape, and the skirt fell to her calves, long and full. The skirt did a little swing as she walked, and she paired it with her best navy heels for a little extra pizazz. She parted her hair on the side and teased the crown for a little height, before pulling it into a high ponytail.
Tyler had insisted on picking her up and he was out front exactly on time. Glad she was ready, she slipped on her coat and gloves before going down to meet him.
He was out of the car the moment she emerged from the house. He gave her a dazzling smile as she approached the car. “You’re beautiful.”
The compliment caught her off guard and her face grew warm. “Thank you.”
They were seated immediately at Rosita’s and Tyler asked the waitress to recommend her favorite margarita, and she did, saying it was their Cadillac margarita, top shelf tequila, and hand shaken. “I have to try it,” he said.
“Me, too,” Amanda agreed.
They ordered the nachos and then sipped their drinks, which were amazing, and in between bites of nachos, Tyler told her that there had been changes at work and he was still trying to process it all. “The bottom line, though, is that Gram won’t let me stay at the Graff anymore. She says she won’t accept the excuse that I need the business center.”
“She does have Internet,” Amanda said, smiling.
“And a small printer in the guest room.”
“Your grandmother is practical.”
“And smart. She’s outmaneuvered me.”
“You don’t reach eighty without having some game.”
He laughed. “Gram does have game, doesn’t she?”
“Don’t let her sweet smile and innocent expression fool you.”
“As long as she’s not worrying about me. I’m okay, in every way.”
Amanda reached for a tortilla chip covered with cheese. “She was worried earlier in the week, but I think she likes to worry about you. It gives her a sense of purpose.”
“I don’t want to create stress for her.”
“She’s so happy to have you here,” she answered, popping the chip in her mouth.
He was silent a moment. “She is happy, isn’t she?”
Amanda finished chewing and swallowing and brushed her fingers off. “She’s gone a long time without family close.”
“Which is why she’s made friends her family.” His brow furrowed. “She needs family.”
“She’s a lover, not a fighter.”
“I can picture her in boxing gloves, though. She’d fight if she had to.”
“Absolutely. Your grandmother is no pushover.”
He smiled and then his smile faded and he looked away, gaze focused on the mural on the wall. “I’ve been so immersed in my work for the past few years that I’ve been pretty distant. Not fair to her.”
“She’s never complained. She’s only ever talked about how wonderful you are, and clever, and hardworking. She always lights up when she talks about you, and I’m not saying that to make you feel better, it’s the truth. Your grandmother doesn’t sit around feeling sorry for herself. She’s not morose, or lonely, but would she like more time with you? Absolutely. But does that mean she has to leave all of her friends here… friends who have become her family? I hope not.”
He was silent for a moment. “Remember I said there were changes at work? They were pretty life changing actually. My company was sold. I’m… free.”
“Free?”
“Have no commitments.”
She set her margarita glass down. “Explain this to me.”
“TexTron is selling off its entertainment division, and Justice Games was the first to go. Apparently there was an interested buyer, a company who’d already made an offer some time ago, and the CEO of TexTron accepted it.” He nudged his goblet. “I have to admit, I’m having a hard time with it. I wasn’t ready to lose it all.”
“You had no idea this was in the works?”
“None at all.”
“What does it mean for you financially?”
“I’m good. I’m great. I made some significant money from the sale, but Justice Games was more than a financial return. It was my… baby. My passion. Even though that is such a corny word and I cringe saying it.”
She felt for him, she did. “My salon is my passion.”
“Yes, but you are a gorgeous woman and you can say things like that. Men aren’t supposed to have ‘passions.’ We’re supposed to be strong. Tough. Rugged—” He broke off as she began to laugh. “What?”
“Don’t look so offended. I’m not laughing at you. Honest. I just find it rather sweet, that’s all.”
“Sweet?”
“Of course, your work is your passion! Why else would you do it? And how is it emasculating being committed to your work?”
“I thought I’d have three more years in Texas, at least three, because part of the purchase was that I remain at the helm, and then once the five year clause elapsed, I’d be free. But suddenly I’m free now. The sale of Justice Games cuts me loose.”
“Do you regret selling Justice Games?”
He nodded.
His faint nod spoke volumes, and she felt for him. She really did. She couldn’t imagine her world without her salon and clients. It gave her life purpose and meaning. “So what now?” she asked.
“I don’t know—” He broke off. “Actually I do know,” he said more firmly. “I plan to approach the head of the company that bought Justice Games and convince him to sell it back to me.”
“What if he won’t?”
“Then I’ll convince him he needs me.”
She was silent a moment. “Not to be devil’s advocate, but what if he doesn’t need you? What then?”
“I’ll start a new company. Create new games.”
“Why not just do that now?”
“Because I like the company I built. And, the new media conglomerate that bought Justice Games is right here in Marietta.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
He drew a slow breath, before asking, “How familiar are you with the Sheenan family?”
“Very familiar. I never went to school with any of them, but both my sisters did. Charity was a year behind Dillon, the youngest of the Sheenans, but they were both in high school at the same time, and Jenny knew Cormac, Trey, and Troy.”
“Wow.” He leaned back in his seat.
She arched a brow. “Wow, what?”
“You really do know them.”
“Again, I don’t know them well. I know their wives better. They all come to me for their hair. Cormac, too.”
“What’s he like? Cormac?”
She pictured the only blond Sheenan and gave a little shrug. “He’s probably the hardest to get to know. He’s quiet, self-contained. I’ve heard others describe him as arrogant, but I don’t think that’s fair. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but he’s incredibly loyal to his family and friends. Last year his company was named the best place to work in Park, Gallatin, and Crawford Counties—” She broke off, looked up at him. “Why are you asking?”
“Sheenan Media bought Justice Games.”
Her mouth opened a little, then closed. That was a game changer. “I don’t—” She broke off, shook her head. “Never mind.”
“What?”
“I shouldn’t say anything. I don’t know—”
“Just tell me wh
at you’re thinking.”
“Cormac Sheenan wouldn’t buy your company just to turn it around and sell it back to you. Knowing him, he’s not looking to make money off a quick sell. He doesn’t need the money. Cormac is always about strategy. If he’s bought it from TexTron, he has plans for it.”
“I’m not giving up without a fight.”
She was silent a long moment. “Do you want me to introduce you to him?”
“No. But thank you. I have a call with him already scheduled for Monday.”
“Keep me posted.”
“I will.” And then he smiled faintly. “But if things work the way I think they do in Marietta, you might know the outcome before even I do.”
The next morning Amanda rolled out of bed and went straight to the window to get a look at the sky. The horizon was clear at the moment but a cold front was moving in today, disaster for special events like weddings and outdoor photo shoots, which was what was on Amanda’s schedule for the day.
She’d been booked for the McInnes wedding months ago, with her scheduled to do the entire wedding party’s hair and makeup, beginning with the mother of the bride at eight thirty, and then the mother of the groom at nine thirty, with the bridesmaids and bride to follow, until everyone was ready for the photo shoot at Miracle Lake before the five o’clock ceremony at the gorgeous Emerson Barn in Paradise Valley. Amanda had scheduled two additional stylists to work with her for hair since the bridal party had grown from four bridesmaids to six, and one flower girl to three, but only Amanda would go on location for the photos and then the ceremony.
After nine years as a hair stylist, Amanda had done the hair and makeup for dozens and dozens of Montana brides, and there were two things every bride wanted on her wedding day—her groom and good weather. But in Montana, good weather was never a sure thing, much less the first weekend in March.
As expected, heavy gray clouds gathered all morning, the clouds hanging low in the sky, promising snow. The snow held off, though, until early afternoon when Brooke, the bride-to-be, was finally the one in Amanda’s chair.
“You’re going to get beautiful photos,” Amanda said as she finished sliding another pin into the updo that looked effortlessly chic and elegant but had taken an hour to create. “And with luck, it might not even snow until later tonight.”
Brooke flashed her phone. “The weather channel said it’s supposed to start snowing in the next hour.”
Amanda checked to see if the style was secure and then reached for another pin. “And if it does, all that white will make a perfect backdrop—”
“But you won’t see my dress against the snow. I’ll just be a blob of white.”
“Your skin will look luminous and your gown is that of a royal princess. It’s going to be magical. Trust me.”
“My bridesmaids are in purple.”
“They’ll gleam in the snow, especially when you do your pictures in front of Miracle Lake.”
Brooke blinked back tears. “This is so stressful.”
“Don’t let it be.”
“We don’t have weather like this in California. It’s almost always sunny in Newport. I wish we were in California now.”
“Well, true, but Scott is a rancher here, and you love Scott. You said he’s your best friend and he makes you happier than you’ve ever been.”
“He does, and he is. And I don’t hate Montana, but everyone was saying it was going to be gorgeous this weekend. Unusually warm. Spring-like.”
“Montana weather is notoriously fickle, and unpredictable. The moment they say good weather, brace yourself for wind and rain.”
Brooke glanced out the salon window, up at the dark sky. “Or snow.”
“It’ll still be beautiful… maybe even more beautiful.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“And you’ll be there for the photos at Miracle Lake and Emerson Barn? And you’ll stay until I walk down the aisle?”
“You invited me to stay for the whole dang thing. I believe I RSVPed yes, too.”
“Yes, you did. I’ll see you soon?”
“I’m right behind you. I just need to pack up my things and I’m on my way.”
But fifteen minutes later Amanda was still in Marietta, trying to find a ride out of town as her car refused to start, and the RV, which would be perfect for today’s location shoot, was still not running.
Amanda dashed back into the salon, shivering. “Emily, can I borrow your car? Mine won’t start and Brooke is expecting me at Miracle Lake any minute for her photo shoot.”
“Mandy, I’d give you my car if I had it, but Mitch dropped me off today. He had to go to Missoula and didn’t trust his car, not with the possibility of snow later.”
Amanda glanced at the sky which seemed to grow darker by the moment. “I’m praying there won’t be snow.”
“It’s inevitable.”
“Grr.” She bit her lip, knowing she had to get there. “What about the other girls? Anyone have a car today?”
“Tamara drove but she’s got her son’s basketball game in a bit and driving kids.”
“That’s right. I’ll just call Charity. If she’s parked downtown, I could just run and grab it.”
But Charity didn’t pick up. “I’ll try Bette,” she said, hanging up.
“Or maybe Bette’s grandson. He has an SUV rental, and we all know he’s back in town.” Emily paused. “And he’s really hot.”
“He’s Bette’s grandson. And he’s not that hot.”
“You get totally flustered every time he’s around. Which means you think he’s really hot.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’ve worked with you for almost four years. You had dinner with him last night. And he’s the first man that makes you blush and giggle—”
“It was really more like drinks last night, and I do not giggle.”
“And you better call him, or I will.”
“You don’t have his number.”
Emily typed on the keyboard and read his number off the screen. “I have everyone’s numbers. It’s my job.”
Amanda groaned. “Okay, read me his number. But he doesn’t make me giggle.”
Tyler was at the salon in minutes. Amanda had everything by the front door and raced out when she spotted the black SUV pulling up in front of the salon. She carried her makeup and hair kits, while Emily carried out her dress and shoes for the wedding since she was staying. Amanda didn’t know how she’d get home yet but was certain there would be a familiar guest who could drop her off afterward.
“You really don’t mind giving me a ride?” Amanda asked breathlessly as she slid into the passenger seat. “It’s going to be a good twenty-minute drive there, and then if you wait during photos, another hour on top.”
“I don’t mind waiting. I have nothing else to do.”
“Maybe just drop me off and you could come back—”
“I’m not going to leave you on the side of Copper Mountain.”
“It wouldn’t be on the side, it’d be at the lake.”
And just then, the first flakes began to fall, small, light white bits falling from the sky. Soon it was falling harder, a steady curtain of white. Amanda frowned at the view out the windshield. “I’d told Brooke that there wouldn’t be too much, but it’s coming down.”
“Can you change the location for the shoot?”
“I’ll ask when we get there.”
Amanda’s phone rang just then. She answered, thinking it was Brooke, and she was right. “We’re almost there, and I was going to ask you that very thing. We don’t have to do the outdoor shots—”
“Scott thinks this is great,” Brooke interrupted hoarsely. “He’s enjoying this, and thinks we should at least try to get some shots in the snow. But he’s wearing a suit jacket. The girls are wearing a little bit of silk and that’s it.”
“Then we’ll just shoot the boys at the lake, and we’ll do the girls at Emerson’s bar
n.”
Brooke was silent a moment. “Do you really think the pictures would be pretty at the lake? With the snow?”
“I think if you didn’t freeze to death, it’d be gorgeous.”
“Should we go for it?”
“We can try, and the moment you’re miserable, we’ll pack up and head to the barn. See you soon. We’re almost there.”
Miracle Lake was a favorite spot for ice skaters in the winter, as well as an excellent place to hike and picnic in the summer. But today, in early March, the road leading to the lake was deserted except for the handful of cars for the wedding party. The branches of the big evergreens lining the road looked frosted, while the low clouds hid the peak of Copper Mountain.
“Where is the lake?” Tyler asked, parking in the spot Amanda indicated.
“Over there,” she said gesturing toward a meadow. “We’ve got to walk down that little slope to get there.”
“All the girls are walking down that slope in dresses and high heels?”
“I’m hoping they’ve changed to cowboy boots. That had been the plan.”
“She’s right. They will freeze.”
“Hoping we can get a couple quick, fun shots and then pack up. In Marietta, we do a lot of brides in snow pictures. Winter weddings are becoming increasingly popular.”
She climbed out of his SUV and opened the back to collect her makeup box kit and tote bag with hair styling products.
“The dress?” he asked, gesturing to the hanger.
“For later when I transform from hired help to favored guest.”
“Got it.” He closed the back of the car and took the kit from her. “Lead the way.”
She opened her mouth to protest because no one ever carried her things for her. “You don’t have to carry my stuff.”
“I know.”
Her gaze met his and held for a beat.
She frowned, a little befuddled, not quite knowing what to do with him, or how to think of him. He wasn’t the enemy anymore. And he wasn’t a boyfriend. And they weren’t dating, so what was he? Because he was something… most definitely something. Every time he was near, her heart beat a little faster and she felt so sensitive, her skin hot and prickly, her insides churning with nerves. No one flustered her, but he did. He made her feel sixteen, and as excited as she’d been at her first prom.
