Contents
Summer Burns by Candice Gilmer
Book Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Dear Readers
Dedication
Other Books by Candice Gilmer
Preview of Autumn Falls
Copyright Page
Summer Burns
By Candice Gilmer
Celestial Springs Salon Book 1
A Barrum, Ks Book
The last thing military widow Summer Bettes wants in her life is a new man. Correction, a new military man, though they're all over Barrum, Kansas. She's convinced herself she works hard enough between taking care of her daughter, trying to maintain control of her asthma, and styling hair in the salon her mother owns that she doesn't need to add a man into the mix.
When Matthew Hennessey walks into her life--or rather, back into her life, she starts to question everything.
Her husband's rival on the wrestling mat in high school, Hennessey never forgot Summer. She always held a special place in his heart. So after serving with her husband overseas, it was only right that he pay his respects to the widow when he came back state-side. He only wants to do right by her.
Unfortunately his desires are eclipsing his logic, and doing right by Summer is harder than he thought.
15
Chapter One
Wednesday
I glanced at my watch.
Every hairdresser in the world lived by their watch--knowing the time was part of the job description.
"Miss Evelyn will be here for her shampoo and set in fifteen minutes, and then I have the Norbert twins for their haircuts and colors." I said to myself as I tossed the remainder of my lunch in the trash. The break room was empty at the moment, my fellow stylists out on the salon floor with their clients.
I patted my pocket where my rescue inhaler sat in my black smock. Always gotta make sure I have that. Hadn't needed it in a while, but you never know.
I grabbed my purse and darted from the break room to the waxing room, which had the best light to touch up my face. I powdered and puffed and wiped things off, and even fluffed my dirty blonde hair. For a second it had some extra volume, but that fell in a flash.
Damn hair.
I tipped my head to the side. "Maybe that's what I should do," I said, looking at my mousy hair. "Get some highlights. It'll brighten me up. Maybe I won't be so wallowy."
The thought cheered me. After all, I worked in a salon. Surely we could find the time to brighten my hair.
The door to the waxing room opened, and Winter stuck her head in. "Summer? There's a guy here to see you."
I blinked. "Who is he?"
"He wouldn't say, only that he wanted to speak to you," Winter said.
"Do you know him?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I would have said if I did. He's cute, though." As salon manager, my sister Winter knew every client that walked in the door. "Maybe he's here to take you on a date."
I rolled my eyes.
Yeah, because that won't happen.
I wondered who he was--maybe the husband of a client, wanting to treat his wife? It happened every so often. But it usually happened in December, not in July. Maybe one of my clients was having a birthday?
I walked through the salon floor where stylist Audra was finishing up with the client in her chair. The client, Shelby, otherwise known as my nemesis, gave me the stink eye.
Everyone in town knew of me and Shelby's sordid past. I fell in love with a boy. She stole him from me. I beat her up under the bleachers at the football game. She got me suspended from school...
Yeah. It was a whole thing.
Why the woman had to come to my beauty shop--okay, my mom's beauty shop--to get her hair done, I didn't know.
I turned and smiled at Shelby, that "business smile" that I'd mastered over the years, and continued through the salon.
The other stylists and nail techs were working, the buzz that never quite goes away filled the salon--a culmination of voices, blow dryers, sprays, and nail files running had become a backwash noise that in a strange way felt like home.
I'd been a hairdresser for over a decade--even when Jake and I moved from base to base, I could always find work, and it was the same sounds, no matter what salon I worked in. All the traveling made the familiar environment more home than anything I had for a long time.
Stepping around the corner, my hand bumped the little patriotic flag table topper that sat on the edge of the reception desk. Mom put it there when I married Jake--it was the only patriotic decoration that remained up year round. Now, though, it had other accompanying red, white and blue pieces that filled the reception area, even though Fourth of July was last weekend.
The receptionist, Mikelanne rubbed her ready to pop, pregnant tummy and gestured to the man who stared at the retail shelves near the door with a grin on her face.
I paused.
The guy was in fatigues.
He turned around, and had his hat in his hand. Immediately my eyes darted to his shoulder, and recognized the stripes for Sergeant, First Class.
My heart pounded and I patted my pocket where my inhaler resided.
A man in fatigues hadn't come to see me since, well... that day...
I had to force myself to cross the reception area. This wasn't a repeat. It couldn't be...
I met the Sergeant's eyes.
He took a step. "Mrs. Bettes?"
I nodded. "Sergeant." Somewhere my insides jumped into gear. I held out my hand, and he shook it.
"I, uh," he paused, closed his eyes for a second, and then opened them. "I came to pay my respects."
I blinked, then my brain kicked in. "Of course, thank you." Why else would a man in fatigues be visiting me?
He squeezed the hat in his hand. "May I speak with you, privately?"
"Sure." I led him over to the small consultation room we had tucked into a corner. Most of the time, however, the room was a catch-all, where advertising was sorted and extra stock got shoved that didn't fit on the retail shelves.
Today, it was an explosion of rainbow colored flyers for a charity event next week. A contrast to the room's pink and white décor--like a grown up version of a princess's room. Mother's whimsy knew no bounds, sometimes.
Not exactly masculine décor.
I closed the door, and the background noise of the salon disappeared. Sort of, anyway. Now it was a dull roar rather than a loud chaos.
"Pardon the mess," I said, immediately shuffling the flyers into more manageable stacks. "This is about as private as it gets around here."
"This is fine, ma'am." He took a seat in one of the pink, high backed chairs.
And I couldn't help the little bit of a grin--after all, he looked pretty ridiculous in the chair. The green fatigues clashed with the carnation pink seat.
He must have been uncomfortable, because he shifted in the chair a couple of times.
"What can I do for you, Sergeant?"
"Hennessey," he said. "Matthew Hennessey." He ran his hand over his short dark hair--longer than a crew cut, but still pretty short. My eyes darted to the sides
, quickly assessing the haircut's correctness, looking for places where it wasn't blended right.
I didn't see any.
Focus, I told myself.
"As I said, ma'am, I wanted to pay my respects."
I nodded. "Thank you."
"I served with your husband. Bettes was a good man. I can't say we were close, but we were friends."
This was not the first man to come pay respects to me, after all, Jake had been gone three years now. Several showed up that first year after Jake died, but it had been a couple of years since I'd met another one of Jake's brothers-at-arms.
Hopefully this one wouldn't bring me to tears. I wracked my brain, trying to remember if Jake had mentioned someone named Hennessey the last time I saw him.
Nothing registered, though.
Just general memories of my late husband, and how he made me laugh. I bit my lip to hold back errant emotions, because I didn't want to cry in front of this man.
He got a far off expression for a moment, then shook his head and cleared his throat. "Anyway, I promised him, when I got stateside that I would check in on you and make sure you were okay."
I blinked, his words jarring me out of whatever wash of memories lingered in my mind. "Pardon?" This was new...
"I promised him I would check in on you. Since we went to school together."
I held my hands up. "Wait, what? I didn't go to school with you. And I went to the same school as Jake, so surely I would remember you."
He smirked. "He said you would say that." He stroked the brim of his hat he had clenched in his hand. "We did, for a while. I was on the wrestling team with Bettes junior year. We kept fighting for the varsity spot."
I snapped my fingers. "Oh yeah! You only went to South for a little while, and your family got transferred?"
This made him smile. "Yes ma'am, that's correct."
I looked him up and down. "You grew," I said, trying to associate the thin young boy I remembered from that year of school to the man sitting across from me. "You were skinny, lanky and just awkward," I said. Then slapped my hand over my mouth.
How could I say that?
Oh my God! My cheeks got hot, and I wanted to bury myself in the chair.
"I'm sorry! Oh, I'm so sorry!" I said through my hand. "Sometimes my mouth runs away from my brain."
He laughed, and it made his blue eyes sparkle. "No big deal. You speak the truth though, ma'am."
"Stop calling me that. You're maybe a year older than me. Make me feel so old." Not that I needed any help in that area--I already felt older than dirt every time I saw those grays mixing in with my mousey-blonde hair.
"Sorry," he said. "Thirteen years of training. It's hard to kick the habit."
"It's okay." He'd become so different from what I remember back in high school. His complexion warm, his eyes sunk deep. His jaw was hard, and when he didn't smile, his expression took on a deeper, darker cast to it--like someone who'd experienced the darkness of the world, and couldn't shake the images.
If he'd been in Iraq with Jake, I imagined he had.
While he was clean shaven, there was scruff along his jaw--like no matter how often he shaved, the hair would be back in a blink.
Like my leg hair...
"Did you transfer to the base here?" I asked. Barrum had a fairly large military base on the southwest corner of the city.
"I'm here for training, actually. Just a few more weeks." When he said the last couple of words, he sounded, well, sort of sad.
I opened my mouth to say how his wife would appreciate him only being gone a few weeks, but I noticed he didn't have a wedding ring.
A knock at the door jarred me.
Winter stuck her head in. "Summer, your appointment just pulled in."
"Thanks." I glanced at my watch. If Miss Evelyn was here already, she was early.
I turned back toward Hennessey, but he was standing.
Probably glad to be out of the pink chair.
I stood as well.
"Thank you, ma'am." Then for a second, he grinned, like he'd said that on purpose.
"You're ornery," I said as I smiled.
"I should let you get back to work." He took a step toward me. "Please know that I deeply respected your husband, and if you need anything please ask."
There was something about the way he looked at me, his eyes very serious and dark, that I knew he truly meant what he said.
I nodded, feeling a bit like an idiot because he left me so dumbfounded, but I wasn't sure what else to do. This strange sensation flooded me, and I was certain that if I asked for anything, he would be there without hesitation.
And I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Another Army man wasn't what I wanted in life. I was quite happy with my roots planted firmly in Kansas.
Chapter Two
Matthew Hennessey walked toward the door of Celestial Springs Salon, happy to be out of the pink consultation room. What did they need consultations for at a hair salon? Hair cuts?
A girly thing he'd never understand.
Not that it mattered, he hadn't come here to understand girly things.
For a second, he glanced at Summer Bettes and a wave of memories hit him. From a time so far away from who he was now, he wondered if they were his own imagination or if they really happened.
Back then, she was Summer Jones. She hadn't changed much since they'd gone to school together for a semester, well, her hair was a little shorter now.
It didn't surprise him that she didn't remember him right away. Why would she? He was there so briefly--the fact that she remembered him at all surprised him.
He'd met her his first day at Barrum South. He'd started there a week after school started, and found the size of the school intimidating--most of the schools he'd attended had been small, 3A or 4A, at the biggest. Then came Barrum, a 6A school, with triple the square footage and triple the students, or so it had felt at the time.
And he'd been lost.
She'd stopped and helped him, with a smile on her face, and bouncy blonde ponytails that screamed cheerleader. Come to find out, she was anything but a cheerleader. Sweet, smart, and dating his rival in the wrestling room.
She'd left an impression, that much was certain. He could still remember her there, sitting next to the coach on the floor, recording his every point in his matches.
And she'd give him this tiny little smirky-smile when he'd win.
He loved those little smiles.
Even now, almost fifteen years later, she still left an impression. One he felt rather guilty about having, but it was there. He wasn't sure he'd be able to talk to her, knot in his gut left his lunch not sitting well. Just being around her, though, that feeling fell away. She soothed him. Like she always did, even in high school.
She had crossed to the front desk, looking at the computer with the receptionist and another woman with short, dark hair. They all had their attention on the machine, though from the expression on Summer's face, she looked ready to hit it.
He paused.
"Is everything okay?" he asked.
She glanced at him. "Fine, just this dumb program's acting up again." She squared her shoulders and a smile passed over her face, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It happens. Technology is a pain in the butt."
"That it is." He took a step toward the desk. "Do you need some help? I'm pretty good with computers." That was one thing he did feel comfortable with.
This time, when she smiled, she just barely blushed. Not enough that most would notice it, but her cheeks got just a bit pinker, and she had a hard time meeting his gaze. "Thank you, but we'll figure it out."
"It's an ancient system," the brunette said, waving her arm in the air. "If Mom would buy a new one, we'd be fine."
"You know that's not going to happen," Summer said. "Mom loves her things."
He raised an eyebrow. "You two are sisters?" He didn't realize that Summer had a sister.
"Yeah," Summer said, fidgeting with something on the de
sk. "Sorry, I should have introduced you. Sergeant Hennessey, this is my sister, Winter Duncan."
He shook her hand. "Pleasure." He could certainly see the sisterly resemblance. They both had the same face shape, though Winter seemed stiffer.
"Nice to meet you," she said. As she spoke, her gaze darted to the door behind him.
He turned--an elderly lady hunched over a walker approached the salon's entrance.
Without thinking, he headed to the door and held it for her. The day's heat hit him hard as he inhaled a breath of the scorching heat.
"Thank you sonny," she said as she carefully guided and still hit the door's threshold. Her walker clattered against the glass door, making him shudder.
"Welcome Miss Evelyn," Winter said, her hand on the edge of the walker, and she guided her through the door.
"Who's this fine whipper-snapper?" she asked, gesturing to Hennessey.
"A friend of mine," Summer said as she joined the elderly lady on the other side. "Why, don't you look peppy today, Miss Evelyn."
"Pssh... I'm hot as a hog on a spit. You'd better use the cold water today to wash this." She raised a hand curved from arthritis and patted at the poodle mess on her head.
"Of course," Summer said. Her gaze darted to his.
"See you later, Summer," he said.
She smiled. "Sure. See you around, Sergeant." And her attention was turned back to the elderly lady she helped through the salon.
Effectively dismissed.
Well, that was a lot nicer than her kicking him out.
He walked out of the salon and checked the time. He'd came on his lunch break, just in case he needed a reason to make a quick exit.
But going back to work didn't hold a lot of appeal now that he'd seen Summer again.
Even if she barely remember him.
Chapter Three
I got the last of Miss Evelyn's rollers in, and thought maybe I'd be able to get through the rest of the day without the inquisition about Sergeant Hennessey.
Matthew.
I smiled, thinking about his real name. Even when we were in school, he'd been Hennessey--I couldn't remember ever calling him anything but that. But that was high school wrestling--everyone went by their last name.
Summer Burns Page 1
