by Stacy Finz
“Young, single guy,” Brad said. “You wanted to live way out here?”
Colin wasn’t sure whether Brad was curious or suspicious. “Yeah, I love it. And when I crave city life”—like never—“I visit my sister and her family in Los Angeles.” He could’ve told Harlee’s brother about the demophobia, but it was none of his damn business.
“Nice life if you can get it,” Brad said, stacking a piece of cheese on a cracker and shoving it in his mouth. “I’d move out here if I had a way of supporting my family. It’s a good place to bring up kids. No crime. Good schools.”
“You and Leslie ought to check out the places at Sierra Heights,” Harlee said. “They’re seriously gorgeous. You guys could buy one for a vacation home and move up when you’re ready to retire.”
“Sure. I’ll get right on that with all my extra cash.” Brad chuckled and turned his attention back to Colin. “You hunt?”
“Not my thing,” Colin said. According to his parole conditions, he wasn’t even allowed to own a gun, which suited him just fine. “But I fish from time to time.”
“The fishing up here is spectacular. Before Harlee took over the cabin, a few buddies and I used to come up for salmon and steelhead runs. You ought to fish with us one of these times.”
Colin figured Colin’s buddies were cops . . . and wouldn’t that be awkward. But he resisted the urge to say “No way in hell,” because Harlee’s face lit up like she knew Colin had just passed muster with the big brother.
She tried to curl up in one of the recliners, cringing as she favored her right side.
“You okay, Harveyleigh?” Brad got up and tossed her a crocheted lap blanket.
Colin’s lips quirked at the nickname. Harveyleigh? That’s right, she’d told him that her name was a combination of her father’s and mother’s.
“That’s where the airbag got her,” he told Brad, then asked Harlee, “When was the last time you took your painkillers?” He went into the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and snagged the bottle of ibuprofen on the counter.
“Not since this morning,” Harlee said, and waited for Colin to shake out two pills and hand them to her, before she swallowed them in one gulp.
Brad stoked the fire and sat back down. “Harlee says you were there with her at the hospital.” When Colin nodded, Brad continued, “You think the docs there know what they’re doing?”
“No, Brad. They all got their medical licenses online,” Harlee said. “I’m fine, just a little sore. Dad had my chart faxed to him, and he agrees with everything Dr. Morgan did. So stop it.”
They were a good family, the Robertses. They looked out for each other, like Fiona did for Colin.
“She’s okay,” Colin told Brad. “I’ve been paying attention.”
“What about her truck?” Brad asked. “I thought I could take care of that while I’m here.”
“Hello,” Harlee trilled. “I’m right here.”
Colin put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got it covered.”
Harlee tried to bound out of the chair, letting out a bark of pain in the process. “What do you mean, you have it covered?”
“We’ll talk about it later, Harlee.” Colin pinned her with a look and then focused on Brad. “We’ve got a great mechanic in town who happens to be a friend.”
“Sounds like you have it all worked out.” Brad looked from Harlee to Colin and flashed a wise-ass grin. “She’s all yours, Colin.”
Damn straight.
At the barbershop, Darla was finally getting that meeting with Wyatt. A slew of weather-related accidents, including Harlee’s, had kept him from stopping by on the evening she’d texted him. But he was here now, making Darla chew her bottom lip with nerves.
“You want to grab a bite?” Wyatt offered.
“No. What I have to say should be done in private.”
“Okay.” He leaned against the front counter, shoving his hands in his Wranglers. Off duty, he’d resorted to the clothing most men in Nugget wore—jeans, Western shirt, and cowboy boots.
“First, I want to say thanks for helping Harlee the way you did. She told me you were a rock.”
“I’m a cop, Darla. That’s what I do.” But Darla noticed that he thrust his chest out at the praise.
On someone else, Darla might’ve thought his preening was comical, but she loved him, pure and simple, and was pleased that the townsfolk saw him as a man to depend on. But could she depend on him? That was the million-dollar question.
“Well, I know that Harlee was appreciative of all that you did.”
“She feeling better?” Wyatt wanted to know.
“She is. Her brother’s here—drove up from the Bay Area this morning.”
Darla hung the “Closed” sign on the door, rolled down the blinds, and sat in her father’s old barber chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Wyatt grabbed one of the plastic waiting chairs, turned it backward and straddled it. “We gonna talk about this now?”
“I think it’s time, don’t you?” She swallowed hard and tried to organize her thoughts. She’d had nearly a decade to formulate a lot of angry rebukes, but all she could seem to summon was, “Why? Why did you leave me like you did?”
Wyatt let out an audible breath and lifted his chin until his eyes were level with hers. “Because I was scared witless, Darla. We’d lost our baby, you were falling apart, and I didn’t have the first clue how to make it better. I was so freaked out that I did the chicken-shit thing and ran. Then I couldn’t face that I’d run, so I never contacted you.
“But I kept tabs on you,” he continued. “I’d write letters home and ask about you. My mother wasn’t proud of what I’d done and she made sure to let me know it, sending me regular updates on just how fine you were getting along without me. By the time I came back, you’d enrolled in beauty school over where your mother lives, and Owen let me know that you had no shortage of men after you.”
Darla had to laugh at that one. Sure, she’d dated a few men, but it wasn’t like they’d been lining up. Not everyone went in for her colorful hair accessories and lively style. Only confident men, in for the long haul.
“You made me think that you didn’t really love me. That you’d only said you did because you wanted to do the right thing.” She met his eyes, ready to get this out on the table for once and for all. “Did you really love me, Wyatt? I deserve the truth.”
“I think I did.” He turned his gaze from her. “But to be fair, Darla, I was eighteen years old. What the hell did I know about love? Obviously not enough to stick by you.”
She’d been right. He’d bailed because he didn’t love her. Still, to hear him all but admit it, felt like a pickax through her heart. For days after she’d gotten his Dear John letter she’d waited for him to call and tell her that he’d made a horrible mistake. It had taken her nearly a year to stop jumping every time the phone rang.
“What I know now is that I’d stick, Darla. I don’t want to go another nine years—hell, I don’t want to go a day—without having you in my life.”
Pretty words. “What am I supposed to do with that, Wyatt? How am I supposed to trust you?”
“By giving me a chance to prove myself.”
And put her heart on the line only to have it bludgeoned if Wyatt decided this sticking business was too difficult? She’d already taken a gamble by starting a salon in a town where the residents only wanted a barber. How much more could she risk?
“We could go slow, one day at a time,” Wyatt said, clearly seeing the ambivalence in her face. “A lunch here and a dinner there. Bowling. A ride to the coast. We could get to know each other again.”
“I already know you.” Her tone was terser than she’d meant it to be.
“No, you don’t, Darla. I’m a man now, not a boy. And I want to court you.”
Who said “court” anymore? Maybe Darla’s dad. Certainly not a twenty-seven-year-old, living in the twenty-first century. But Darla kind of liked the old-fashioned term. To her it conjured images of ice-s
kating parties, lemonades on the front porch, and stolen kisses under the oak tree.
“How do I know you won’t cut out the first time anything goes wrong?” She got to her feet and peered through the slats in the blinds for the sake of having something to do. The way Wyatt looked at her, like she held the key to their future, made her nervous.
He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’ll just have to give me a chance and find out.”
She glanced over her shoulder and speared him with a look. “Who says you can touch me?”
He immediately took his hands away, but grinned like a fool. “Sorry.”
“I thought you were courting me.” She put air quotes around “courting.”
“We could start right now.” He looked so hopeful that a little shiver of happiness went up Darla’s spine. “I’ll take you over to the Ponderosa for a steak.”
“I don’t eat steak.” She said it just to be contrary.
“Then a salad, or whatever you want.”
“I need to be home by seven,” she said.
“Okay.” Wyatt looked at his watch. “No problem, but why?”
She fluffed her curls in the mirror. Today she’d gone cinnamon with honey highlights. “I have to wash my hair.” With that she grabbed her purse, put on her coat, locked the barbershop door, and let Wyatt take her to dinner.
Chapter 21
“So you’re getting back with him?” Harlee twirled one of her newly curled locks around her finger.
“Stop doing that,” Darla said as she wrapped another strand of Harlee’s hair in her hot iron. “You’re taking out all the curl.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” Harlee watched her friend in the mirror pretending to be wholly focused on styling Harlee’s hair. The hairdo was just for fun, since Harlee didn’t have anywhere to go. A week after the accident and she could still barely bend over to tie her shoes. At least she had her Pathfinder back. Griffin had made it as good as new.
“I’m giving him a chance.” Darla put the curling iron down to run for the ringing phone. “That’s all.”
Harlee could hear her making an appointment, and when Darla hung up, her eyes glittered with excitement. “That was Maddy Shepard. She wants me to cut her hair.”
The two women high-fived.
“Oh my God, Darla, it’s happening. I told you it would.”
“And I sold three hundred dollars’ worth of product yesterday.”
“Get out.” Granted, Darla’s shampoos were pricey, but that was still a lot of product to move, especially in a small town like Nugget.
“One of the guests at the inn forgot her toiletry bag and couldn’t lower herself to use hotel shampoos. Maddy, bless her heart, sent her over here. And Ethel over at the Nugget Market needed an emergency remedy for itchy scalp. This dry, cold weather is murder. And Donna has become a regular—for product, anyway.”
“That’s fantastic, Darla.”
“How ’bout you? How’s the job hunt going?” Darla swiveled Harlee’s chair around and handed her a mirror so she could see the half-dozen bouncy curls that now skimmed her upper back.
“Very pretty,” Harlee said, and let out a sigh. “I haven’t been looking too hard.”
“No?” Darla beamed. “Okay, I’m just gonna put it out there. I’ll die if you leave.”
“You won’t die. And without my negative influence, you’ll actually go to yoga instead of ditching to get breakfast at the Bun Boy with me.”
“But DataDate’s taking off, right? And you’ve got Colin. And Griffin needs us to get him through his breakup with Lina. And what about Clay and Emily’s wedding? And Maddy’s baby? You’ll miss it all.”
“Uh, no pressure or anything.” Harlee laughed. The truth was, life would go on in Nugget without her. But leaving this place would hurt. Badly. “I don’t think Colin can give much more than he’s giving, Darla. And if I stayed that would become an issue.”
“Because you’re in love with him?”
“I’m pretty sure I am.” Harlee gave a wan smile. “And I’m also pretty sure that if he knew, it would send him off the ledge.”
“There’s no way he can’t know,” Darla said. “It’s all over your face, Harlee.”
“Colin isn’t like a regular guy, Darla. He’s sort of dense about that kind of stuff.”
And he’s different, Harlee wanted to say. It was as if Colin had survived a trauma that he never completely got over and never talked about. Hence the phobias and the aloofness. But he cared for her. That much she knew.
“You need to talk to him, Harlee. Tell him how you feel. What if you leave and he feels the same way as you do? That’s a missed opportunity, and believe you me, I know about missed opportunities.”
Harlee got to her feet, walked to the window, and gazed out over the square. “My old editor at the Call is going to the Seattle Times. I’ve been thinking of calling him . . . see if he’ll hire me. Colin knows. He hasn’t asked me not to.”
“Have the conversation anyway, Harlee. Maybe Colin just doesn’t want to hold you back. You ever think of that?”
“Maybe.” Harlee gave a halfhearted shrug. “Now tell me about you and Wyatt.”
Darla plopped into the barber chair. “He wants us to date, go slow, but try to win back the feelings we once had for each other.”
“Can you forgive him, Darla?”
“I don’t know. Do you think I should?” The phone rang. “Hold that thought.”
Darla dashed over to the cash register, picked up, and chatted away while she scribbled in her appointment book. After the call, she told Harlee that it was Grace from the feed store. “She wants a haircut.”
“Okay, that’s two in an hour,” Harlee said. “We’re celebrating with lunch at the Ponderosa. My treat.”
“Whoot!” Darla started to grab her coat and hat, but stopped. “Should I forgive him, Harlee?”
Harlee pulled on her jacket, ready to brave the cold. “That’s something only you can decide, Darla. But I like Wyatt and I’m rooting for you guys.”
When they got to the Ponderosa, Sophie had hostess duties. Lilly lay tucked into her baby carrier next to Mariah, who waved from the bar. Sophie started to take them to their usual corner booth, but Harlee and Darla took a detour to say hi to Lilly.
“Don’t you dare wake her up,” Sophie said. “The little stinker kept us up all night.”
You’d never know it. To Harlee, Sophie looked as fresh as the marketing executive she used to be.
“Colin says the house is almost done,” Harlee whispered, not wanting to stir the baby.
“Hallelujah!” Mariah chimed in. “It’ll be nice to finally live separately from where we work.”
“When she wakes up, let us play with her,” Darla said, staring down at Lilly like she wanted to eat her up.
“I’ll bring her over,” Mariah said, and Sophie got them seated.
“They should put that baby in commercials,” Darla said when Sophie went off to seat the Addisons, who had just walked into the restaurant.
As usual, the couple wore their bear gear. Harlee understood their desire to brand themselves as the owners of the Beary Quaint, but adults decked out in 3-D animal wear was a little creepy. Sandy Addison actually had the gall to stare at Darla’s hair du jour. A purple bob with fringe bangs—a wig, of course.
“Don’t pay any attention to them,” Darla said. “They’re trolls.”
Harlee reached over the table and whispered, “Clay said they’re buying the Nugget Tribune.”
“There goes the First Amendment.” Darla pretended to shudder and scanned the menu. “What are you getting?”
Harlee opened hers as well, but it wasn’t like she didn’t know every entrée and appetizer by heart. “I don’t know yet. But let’s go balls out and get something totally decadent, to celebrate.”
“You think we’re jinxing it?”
“Hell no,” Harlee said. “You’re a freaking great stylist, Darla. Y
ou should move with me to Seattle and open a salon there. We could be roomies.”
“Yeah, because they don’t have enough hair salons in Seattle.” Darla laughed, then grew serious. “I think I want this thing with me and Wyatt to work.”
Harlee stopped perusing the sandwich selections and met Darla’s eyes. “I think he might be a really good man, Darla. I think when he was eighteen years old he made a terrible decision, but he’s grown up since then.”
“I hope you’re right.” Darla closed her menu. “Because if he turns out to be a loser, I’m gonna be devastated. I’m ordering a lemon drop, by the way.”
“Ooh, that sounds good. I’ll get one too. Let’s run him, Darla.”
“What?”
“Let’s do a background check on Wyatt. He’s a cop, so he’ll come up clean. But we can at least see how much he paid for his house.”
“I don’t know,” Darla said. “It seems like an invasion of his privacy.”
“Yeah, so what’s your point?”
A server came to take their order. When she finished, Harlee said, “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”
“Can you find out if he’s been married before?”
“Yes. But if Wyatt had been married, you’d know. The whole freaking town would know. This is Nugget, Darla.”
The server came back with their cocktails and both women took healthy sips.
“This is the kind of town where even huge secrets come out,” Harlee continued. “If Wyatt was a cross-dresser, Donna Thurston would be singing it from the rooftop of the Bun Boy.”
“Then what’s the point of doing it?” Darla took another gulp of her lemon drop.
“Just for fun,” Harlee said. “It’ll keep my investigative skills sharp. And who knows, maybe we’ll find out that he inherited half of Nugget.”
Darla laughed. “That wouldn’t be all that impressive.”
The waitress put down their burger plates and a heaping basket of tempura. From across the dining room, Harlee could see Sandy Addison watching them. The woman really was a troll.
“All right.” Darla speared one of the fried zucchinis with her fork and dipped it in catsup. “Go for it. But don’t tell me if anything really bad turns up about him.” She took a big bite of the burger and with her mouth half full said, “On second thought, tell me everything.”
