by Rin Daniels
He didn’t see any of it. Not really. Moss green eyes shimmering with hurt stared back at him, his own personal ghost.
Unconsciously, he reached into his shirt pocket and plucked the folded cashier’s check he’d been carrying around for a week. A hundred and twenty-five dollars.
“I mean,” he said slowly, staring at the crumpled paper, “don’t you ever think that Talia is just after your money?”
“Sometimes.” His dad turned to study the same view, his shoulder brushing Adam’s. “But what does it matter if I like her anyway?”
“But—”
“Adam.” The older man cradled his glass loosely in his left hand, tilting it to the sunlight. “Look. You can make yourself miserable second-guessing every last person who enters your world, or you can decide who you like and go with your gut.”
Adam snorted. “Is that what you do?”
“Yes.” His dad slanted him a sidelong glare. “This Harris girl threw you for a loop five years ago. You ever wonder why?”
“She lied—” Adam fell silent as his dad waved his glass in dismissal.
“She wasn’t the first to ever lie to you, son,” David said, a note of amusement in his voice. “Wasn’t the last, either. Never stopped you from taking a girl out. So why’d you flip your lid about her?”
“She lied to me,” Adam muttered. The pain in his chest tightened.
“Well.” His dad shrugged. “What’d she lie for?”
“Money.”
“Yeah?” He turned, braced his elbow on the railing and looked Adam dead in the eye. “So what? It’s just money.”
It’s just money. Adam had said it himself. He spent it the way he wanted, gave it away if he wanted.
She’d turned it away. The look in her eye when she had, he’d have sworn it was real. Pride. The same pride he’d watched shape her smile as she explained that she’d gone legit.
Had she lied?
His gut said no. But his gut remained way too close to his dick, which didn’t care about anything but having Kat Harris.
How could he reconcile this?
He flipped the back of the check over. His dad eyed small, bright green post-it stuck to it. In Kat’s looped hand, she’d written a handful of numbers. No greeting. No goodbye.
Just math and her name.
David cleared his throat. “Is that a payment plan?”
“Yeah.” At a hundred and twenty-five a pop, it’d take her almost fourteen years to pay it off.
Fourteen years of monthly reminders he didn’t want.
His father’s voice strained, as though he was trying for normal. “Did she really include interest at three-point-five?”
Adam’s fingers closed over the check. The post-it fluttered. “I know,” he said tightly. She’d checked the federal rate.
The fact that no bank in the world would ever give an interest rate that low to someone like her made it funny to everyone else but Adam.
He slanted a hard glare at his dad as David covered his mouth with one hand.
It didn’t help.
“Fine,” he snapped, and shoved the check into his pocket. “Laugh.”
David waved that away, managing to swallow his amusement down to a harsh clearing of his throat. “So you gave her money anyway. That looks like a good-faith effort to pay it back. What’s the problem?”
Everything.
Nothing.
Oh, hell, he didn’t know. It all seemed so much simpler when he could just be angry. Just be hurt.
Just…be himself.
When Adam said nothing, his dad bumped his shoulder. “Seems like you kids need to clear the air.”
Maybe so. Maybe he wouldn’t know for sure until he saw her again.
Maybe he was an idiot who couldn’t resolve his own crap.
Fourteen years, huh?
The glass clattered against the railing. “Dad.”
David’s eyebrows winged up in streaked brown and grey. “Yeah?”
“I have to go.”
His dad’s mouth creased into a knowing smile. “Now?”
“Now,” Adam said, his voice low.
His dad, altogether too shrewd for Adam’s peace of mind and aggravatingly right, tipped his glass in silent farewell.
* * *
“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Nadine announced, gaze sliding between two similar pieces of stationary, “but I’m going to kill your mother.”
Kat smiled as she pressed a line of her friend’s hair into a swatch of foil, using the pointed end of her application brush to smooth the edges.
The words, harsh as they were, were Nadine’s way of soothing the hurt. Kat got that.
The salon around her bustled with activity, peppered with conversations between the five other stylists and their clients. The front seats were full of walk-ins, and two kids ran around the busy gallery as their mom ignored them in favor of a moment of peace underneath the dryer.
Outside the front entry, the small Sulla Valley mall hummed with Saturday traffic.
Nadine was as out of place here as Kat had felt in the elite circles her friend was used to, and the fact she sat in this chair meant more than words could ever say. It was the only salon who would hire her without references.
It wasn’t her own salon. Wasn’t her own business. In fact, it wasn’t anything like what Kat had hoped for, but it was a job. It meant real money, legal money, properly taxed and everything.
She was at square one, yeah, but that was okay. At least she’d found a job.
At least Dale had agreed to suspend work—and her invoice—until he could do his own investigation into the cause of the fire. It gave her some time to figure out what her next move was. He’d been sympathetic, way more than she deserved.
And she hadn’t lost Nadine’s friendship. Of everything else, that mattered so much.
She still had her dreams, even if they felt a million miles away.
And lacking in one Adam Laramie.
Nadine knew the story, now. She’d welcomed Kat into her home, fed her enough gelato to drown an army, and listened to her sob out her long and sordid history between bites straight from the cartons.
When Kat was done, she braced for anger, for recrimination—even for a well-earned, “You got what you deserved.”
What she got was a long sigh, a warm hug, and, “I would have punched her.”
The image of the petite, blue-eyed doll taking a fist to her mother’s vintage movie star elegance set Kat into a fit of the giggles.
Now, all she could do was shrug as her friend pored over the two different letters. The letterheads were similar enough to be virtually indistinguishable at first glance, but a sharp eye could easily spot the differences. The text in one claimed a denial of insurance benefits due to an ongoing arson investigation.
The second and most recent letter declared the insurance coverage granted, and verified the checking account number the money was sent to.
It wasn’t Kat’s.
She didn’t have anything left in her for anger. “I should have realized she had bigger intentions,” she said, hands busy with her friend’s hair.
“Yeah, but walking off with all the insurance money?” Nadine’s voice trembled with rage. “That’s harsh. Even for her. Did she actually have it burned down?”
“That’s what she said,” she said with a wry smile, keeping her voice down so the other patrons and stylists couldn’t hear her. “But my contractor is running his own investigation. Either way, I think she saw an opportunity.”
“Ugh,” Nadine managed.
Kat agreed. “All I know for sure is that she took her things, and I haven’t seen her since I walked out.”
“And she just left you with loan sharks?”
“Yeah.”
“That bitch.”
Yeah. Seemed about right. Kat didn’t know how to explain why she was so resigned to it all. How could she justify her mother’s actions to a girl who’d never seen the inside of a scam
? Barbara Harris had walked off with Adam’s hush money, the twenty-thousand Kat had brought home, and Kat’s insurance money. Whatever she had left from the initial loan was just icing on the cake.
No wonder she’d had the money to blow on a mother-daughter day. The fact Wallace & Roane would still knock on Kat’s door wouldn’t even occur to Barbara.
“I would so call the police on her,” Nadine fumed. “I’d call the FBI!”
Kat had thought about it. Then again, it was her mom they were talking about. Jack Harris already rotted in jail. Jackie hadn’t been in touch in almost two years.
All Barbara had was Kat, and now she didn’t even have that.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling, “but no.”
“I know, I know,” Nadine groaned, folding the papers up and tucking them under the apron protecting her summer dress. “She’s your mom.”
“Yeah,” Kat agreed, folding another foil in place. “She is. But more than that, she can’t be alone. She’s always had my dad or me to take care of her.”
“So?”
“So,” Kat replied, shrugging again because she didn’t know what else to do, “now she’s got no one.”
Nadine’s wide blue eyes met hers in the mirror. A wicked spark lit them to unholy glee. “She’s going to be old and lonely forever, isn’t she?”
Kat couldn’t say. Knowing Barbara, she’d find some sap to take her in, but it wouldn’t last. “Family forgives a lot,” she said quietly. “More than we should. I don’t think there’s a sucker alive who’ll let her get away with what she pulls.”
“Kat Harris, you’re so evil. I love it.”
Somehow, it seemed enough. At least to get through each day. She had an adult job, with adult problems, and none of them included scamming, lying, covering for her mom, her past, or the money her dad had hidden with her.
And if she had to spend five minutes every month mailing a check to Adam Laramie, well, eventually her heart would stop hurting so badly when she did.
“Well, we’ll take care of the loan sharks,” Nadine said firmly. It was the third rehash of the closest they’d come to a fight.
Kat tweaked her hair. “No.”
“I’m going to front the money and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Nadine replied, crossing her legs ever so primly on the chair. She lifted her nose in the air. “If you have such a problem with it, Kat Harris, you can pay me back with shares from the salon.”
Kat raised her eyebrows in the mirror.
Nadine added, “Once you open it. That’s still in the works, right?”
“I can’t let you—”
“Oh, shut up and put me under the dryer,” Nadine cut in over her. “You just focus on paying back that asshole that will not be named.”
“You’re a spoiled brat, you know?”
“I know.” Nadine’s smile beamed. “Wallace & Roane will get off your back. I promise.”
Tears threatened to overwhelm her already fragile heart. Kat lowered her face to the floor, fighting to get ahold of herself before her workmates saw her.
Her friend reached over and caught her gloved hand. “Come on, girl. I can’t wait to see what these new highlights look like.”
Sniffing hard, she nodded and whispered, “Thanks.”
“Mmhm.”
Dodging the gleefully yelling kids playing tag across the floor, Kat led the way to an empty dryer and set it up. She bent to check the angle of the cap around Nadine’s head, adjusted the bonnet.
The magazine Nadine had picked up dipped. “Um.”
“Too hot?” She slid her fingers under the rim. The air was warm, but it didn’t seem like too much.
A murmur rippled through the salon.
“Um,” Nadine murmured insistently, and tugged at the hem of Kat’s plain white T-shirt. “Kat.”
“What?”
“Dude.” Her wide eyes pinned beyond Kat’s shoulder. “Put on your sexy unapproachable face.”
Her what? “Why—”
“Kat,” a masculine voice said from behind her.
Her heart abruptly stuttered.
Nadine’s eyes telegraphed enough encouragement to bolster an entire battlefield.
She felt like she was in one.
Kat straightened slowly, turned with her breath held.
She didn’t know what to expect. Not really. The sight of Adam Laramie ripped another hole into her calm.
Two weeks of emptiness conspired to make him look even more delicious than usual. He wore fashionably relaxed jeans, a button-down rolled up to beat the heat and vest that should have given him a hipster vibe and somehow only looked right.
His jaw was clean-cut, it always was—a part of her bristled that he hadn’t even missed a shave or two on her behalf.
Not as though Adam with a five o’clock shadow didn’t haunt her dreams.
God, she missed him.
The intensity of his light brown eyes sheared through the activity surrounding them. Cut the bustle down to a dull murmur.
Her throat dried.
She glanced at the people around her. The fringes still talked and laughed, the children squealed as they played tag across the entry, but the inner circle nearest to them were silent. They didn’t look at her openly, but she caught sidelong glances and reflective scrutiny in the large round mirrors.
She spread her hands over her stained apron. “Adam.”
“Hey, Adam Laramie!” Nadine cheerfully called behind her, and the eyes that hadn’t spun in their sockets did now. The salon went dead quiet. Only the piped in pop music broke the silence, and the sudden shushing of the mother who’d caught her kids on a run-by.
Kat’s face burned.
Adam glanced around as if he only just tuned in. His jaw shifted. “Do you have a break?”
“No,” she said shortly.
The manager on duty stirred. “Kat, if—”
“I can’t leave my client,” Kat cut in, half-turning.
Adam took another step beyond the entry. “Kat, please.”
She sucked in a breath. Nadine’s eyes went wide beneath the dryer bonnet, flicking up in wonder.
A billionaire who said please.
Kat’s hands curled into fists.
“Listen to him, girl,” a woman called from across the floor.
Another stylist muttered, “Hell, if she don’t want him...”
How could he stand there in total calm while everyone spoke about him like that? While he caused a scene?
Because pity was easy to give. Had he come to offer her more money?
Tell her that she was better than this place?
What a laugh.
“It’s too late,” she said tightly. “Go away before I call security.”
Another ripple rocketed through the crowd.
Great. Her life had become a sideshow.
“Call them,” he said to her back. Another smooth order. A dare. “I’ll stand here and talk until they arrive.”
“Margie, call security,” Kat said sharply.
“But—”
“Just do it!”
“Go ahead, Margie,” Adam said, and he flashed a smile to the curly-haired stylist behind the desk. “It’s okay. I’ll just stay here until they come.”
Margie reached for the phone, mouth a wide ‘O’.
“I give them about eight minutes,” he continued. “Kat, at least turn and look at me.”
She didn’t want to. The reflection of him was bad enough.
Nadine kicked her in the ankle.
“Oh, fine,” she snapped, and spun, arms folded tightly under her chest. A smear of red stained her forearm from an earlier client. His gaze dropped to it. “Speak fast.”
“I will,” he replied. He sauntered further into the salon. Kat watched their audience cluster in behind her, subtle shifts that gave them a better view.
Her teeth locked.
He halted in the middle of the floor. Hands in his pockets like he was too cool to scam.
&nbs
p; Well, she knew better, didn’t she?
His chin lifted. “I love you, Kat Harris.”
“Oh, Lord,” a woman in the back choked, and the resulting explosion of commentary did nothing to undercut Kat’s shock.
Adam’s mouth eased into a crooked line. “I’ve loved you for years. But I’m a Laramie, see, and we’re too damned slow and stupid to see what we’ve got when it’s under our noses.” He freed a hand to rub the back of his neck, a sheepish move Kat was certain would claim every heart in the salon.
Her nails bit into her palms.
“I guess I’m slower than most,” he confessed. His grin faded. “You had to walk out of my life twice before I figured out what I needed to figure out.”
“Girl, take that man back.” She didn’t have to look to see that it came from Marc. He’d probably snapped his fingers, too.
Kat’s heart thumped in her chest. “What do you want, Adam?”
“You.” He held her gaze, raised a hand, palm up. “I get that we have a lot to talk about. You lied to me—”
She sucked in a hot breath.
“—But I wasn’t exactly ready to hear you out, either.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I want to hear it from you, Kat. Everything you didn’t tell me, I want to hear it. And when you’re done explaining all those things I didn’t know how to ask you, I want you. Whatever else happens, happens.”
She wanted to laugh breezily, to wave his charm away like it didn’t affect her, but she couldn’t get it past the knot in her throat.
Nadine, head tilted out from under the dryer so she could hear, chimed in, “Her mom blackmailed you for ten thousand dollars, then took all of Kat’s insurance and ran away.”
“Nadine!” Kat hissed.
Innocence shaped her studied, “What?”
Adam’s eyes sharpened. “Why didn’t you—?” He caught himself, shook his head in rueful understanding. “Never mind. I know why you didn’t tell me. Not after that stunt I pulled in my office. I’m an asshole.”
“Totally,” Nadine agreed.
“Thanks, Nadine,” he said, but his hand remained steady. His eyes gleamed. At Kat. All for her. The crowd surrounding them may as well have been statues, for all he seemed to care. “Do you want me to make sure your mother is found and charged?”
