by Fiona Archer
The lady in question appeared to stand beside Lark, turning her head side to side as she inspected her Velcro-roller-adorned hair. “That’ll be fun. Give us a chance to talk proper.”
Reagan pressed her lips together to hide her smile.
Lark swished her hands through Reagan’s hair, shaking out the now shorter lengths. Lo and behold, the partially dried strands showed a definite kink. Kind of like her sex li— Oh, stop it!
Lark surveyed her handiwork before speaking. “Okay, I’m going to finish off Penny’s do, then come back.”
“Sure thing.” Reagan nodded, admiring the added bounce of the hair surrounding her face.
Purdy inched her chair closer. “Speaking of a chance to talk proper, we have some catching up to do of our own.”
Reagan shook out her cape, dislodging scraps of hair that fell like soft feathers down to the tiled floor. Instead of feeling cornered, it was more a relief to finally have one of her friends broach the subject. Now she could breathe easier knowing that particular egg had been cracked. “I guessed we’d be ‘talking’ at some point.”
Chloe made a scoffing sound. “What did you expect after your avoidance routine? All we have to go on is what you gave Purdy in a short message Thursday and local gossip. We’re just concerned for you, honey.”
“Thank you and I appreciate the honesty.” She let out a loud breath. “But I don’t know what to say.” She shook her head, gazing into the mirror’s reflection of the amber bottles lining the opposite wall. A deep sense of regret, and Lord help her, longing, filled her as she spoke. “Things with the guys were going great. Yes, it had been only four days and we’d barely scratched the surface, but we’d started to share a bit more.” Under the hard-ass exterior were two normal guys with opinions and likes the same as any other.
“I think we had some things in common, like cooking with Mike and debating current issues with Quinn, but I didn’t really get a chance to explore that further.”
Purdy screwed her mouth up. “Unfortunately, debating your dad’s innocence with Quinn wasn’t as successful.”
Reagan snorted. “Hardly.”
“Did they state outright that they believed your dad was guilty of your mom’s murder?” Even as she asked the question, Chloe seemed to be struggling to keep the disbelief out of her voice.
“No, not outright. But trust me, the sentiment was there.”
“So that’s a no.” Chloe paused, biting her lip before continuing. “I admit the guys can come on strong. But I can’t see them going out of their way to be unreasonable.”
“They don’t believe her about her dad.” Purdy sprang to Reagan’s defense.
“Why should they?” At both women’s gasps, she held up her hands. “Hear me out. Reagan hired them to investigate and prove her dad’s innocence. They warned her they’d seek the truth. If you were hiring someone to do that job, would you want them swayed solely on not wanting to hurt the person they were working for?”
“You’re taking a simplistic view of this whole thing. I wasn’t saying they should find Dad innocent based merely on him being a good guy.”
Chloe’s smile hinted at a slight rebuke. “Weren’t you?”
“No.” Of course not. Maybe. She sighed. A little. “I wanted them to be more open to the fact that while the evidence of his innocence might not exist, that didn’t automatically make him guilty.”
“Sounds fair to me.” Purdy leaned over and squeezed Reagan’s knee.
Maybe it was because Purdy had known her dad, spent hours talking with him along with Reagan, that she had additional insight and affinity.
If only Chloe had experienced the same. She would have loved Sam Edwards, appreciated the gentle strength of the man who’d done his best to raise a daughter on his own.
“You weren’t there, Chloe. Quinn was so closed off, unwilling to compromise an inch. Mike was just as bad.”
“And you?” This came from Purdy, whose somber gaze seemed to guess Reagan’s answer.
“He’s my dad.” For her, that said it all.
However, Chloe wasn’t finished. “Are you more upset by the idea of the guys not believing you, as opposed to what they are saying about your dad, especially since you were starting a relationship?”
She didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Was it possible that her anger had less to do with her father and more from a sense of betrayal?
God, she couldn’t think about this now, not in a damn salon surrounded by her friends as they laughed, ate, and sipped coffee.
“I don’t know and to be honest, I’ll need to think it over before I can give you an answer.” She glanced at Chloe. “You’ll return the guys’ gym bag for me?” If it was out of her house, maybe that would help her stop thinking about them. Last night she’d lifted out their shirts, held them up to her face and breathed in their unique scents. She’d closed her eyes and imagined them, standing beside her, crowding her in the way only they could.
God, how pathetic was she? One minute railing against their pigheadedness and then next missing them to the point of aching.
Chloe gave her a soft smile. “Of course. Quinn’s been called to a case in Seattle. A contact of the MacKenzie brothers. He’s expected to be away for a week, maybe less.”
She should be relieved. No chance of bumping into him on the street, at the market. Wouldn’t that make things easier?
“What about Mike?”
“He stayed here. I haven’t seen him at the ranch house. I asked Flynn. He said Mike’s busy on another case.”
And he was keeping his distance.
She ground her back teeth together. If self-pity was a body of water, she’d be drowning. “Well, it’s none of my business.”
Chloe leaned over, and squeezed her hand. “I know this is a hurdle, but nothing is so big it can’t be tackled by all three of you. Give yourself time to take a breath, see things from a distance. Who knows, maybe they’re doing the same.”
Purdy sat up straighter as she looked over Reagan’s shoulder. A huge grin showed off her dimples to perfection. “Look at you.”
Reagan turned in her chair. There stood Penny, her hair swept up in a regal French chignon, transforming her from quirky and lovable to all that and a knockout besides.
Penny swayed her hips, striking a pose and winking to the three younger women. “Think my husbands will organize extra cover at the diner tonight?”
If she reached Penny’s age and possessed only half that woman’s thirst for life, she’d be happy. Tired, but happy. The sound of her own laughter helped lift her spirits. “Are you kidding? They won’t let you out of their sights.”
She giggled as Chloe ripped out a wolf whistle. The other women joined in the fun, including Lark, who clapped and called out for Penny to do a twirl.
“I see your business has gotten off to a good start.”
The merriment of seconds ago evaporated quicker than a mist under a glaring sun.
Karl Wagner stood in the salon’s doorway dressed in a plain dark shirt and jeans.
Lark cast a glance at the women before she faced her visitor. “Good morning and yes, these ladies have helped make my day a special one.” She ventured toward Wagner. “How can I help you?”
While the salon owner’s voice and manner echoed politeness, Reagan didn’t miss the way her body stiffened in front of Wagner. That calm fluidity had transformed into wary stiffness.
The woman’s instincts were sharp.
Reagan felt her gaze narrow. Something was off here. She couldn’t quite…Good grief, he’d dressed down. No silver buckle and those scuffed boots had seen real work. Had the man hired a stylist to conjure up some working-man appeal?
“I thought I’d introduce myself.” He reached out a hand, which Lark accepted. “Karl Wagner, future town councillor.”
“Not yet you’re not,” Gretchen stated with more volume than necessary.
Damn, she loved her friends.
Wagner’s cool smile didn’t reach h
is eyes. Hell, it barely reached the corners of his mouth. “Of course, and here’s my opponent. Obviously after such a hard week, you’d need time out to feel better. It goes without saying how sorry the town is for your current circumstances and the shadow that’s fallen over your family.”
Reagan’s spine stiffened harder than instant-set concrete. No way could she miss the veiled insult. “You’ve got a—”
Wagner cut her off, refusing her the right of reply. “You should do well here, Miss Adams. Lots of ladies to keep happy. Women need the pretty things to ensure they stay on track. A smart man knows this. Makeup, clothes, trinkets.” His gaze flicked over Reagan’s shorter locks like he was ticking items off a list. “A new hairstyle. One’s as good as another.”
The salon owner pulled herself up straighter, seemingly growing an extra inch or two. Reagan bet she did yoga. She looked the yoga type with all the natural fiber clothing and holistic living. Plus that stress-free aura. Yeah, Reagan needed some of that yoga juju.
Lark took a step closer to Wagner. “I’m so glad you popped in today, Karl. Who knows how long it would have been before I got to see the man behind the candidate.” She went to say more but stopped short, instead leaning in close to stare into his eyes before moving on to examine his face and neck. “Oh, dear.”
“What?” Wagner took a step back with more speed than tact.
“Have much fiber in your diet, Karl?”
The man’s eyes bulged. “I—”
“You’re a little, how can I put this…impacted right now, aren’t you?” She shrugged away his denial. “No biggie. I recommend a colonic irrigation. I don’t perform them here, but I can give you the name of a wonderful holistic healer in Cheyenne. Would you like her card?”
“That’s one way to fix an asshole,” Reagan muttered softly under her breath.
Chloe made a choking sound and quickly turned to face the wall, her shoulders shaking. Gretchen and Laura glanced over, concern marring their features. Purdy, with a hand over her mouth, waved away their concern.
“Not necessary. I only came in to introduce myself.” With his hand on the door, he graced Lark with a hard stare, suspicion flaring in his eyes. “Enjoy your opening day, Miss Adams. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” He gave a dismissive nod to the rest of the women before leaving.
Lark whooshed out a breath. “Wow, I’m going to have to use a smudge stick to cleanse the room. That guy has one funky aura.”
Reagan rushed forward, resting her hand on the young woman’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Lark. Karl Wagner’s an acquired taste. One none of us have been able to digest. But you shouldn’t go making an enemy of him right away. He has friends in town, and you’re just starting out.” Wagner wasn’t the lightweight some people thought him to be. His fingers were in more pies than a pastry chef, and he never forgot a slight, real or imagined.
Lark turned around from looking out the glass doorway, and for the first time, Reagan spied the cord of steel hidden beneath the herbal-scented gentleness that had endeared her to all the women.
“He can mock my Agatha Christie book collection, my fear of heights, or the fact I once dated an accordion player, but I won’t tolerate anyone ridiculing what I do for a living. ‘One’s as good as another?’” Lark quirked one eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”
Oh, yeah, she really liked this woman. And she was so getting a look at that Agatha Christie book collection.
Penny stepped forward. “Reagan, I know you’ll want me to keep Lark’s slice and dice of Wagner to ourselves to avoid her getting into any trouble.” She glanced over to Lark. “Honey, I admire your stance on no caffeine and only having the juices, water, and special teas, but I can’t keep this kind of news to myself and deny myself caffeine too. I’m making an emergency dash to the diner for more coffee and some pie. Laura, Gretchen, come with me so I don’t give in and spill to everyone how this little lady proved what we’ve all known for years.”
Gretchen’s smile was pure evil. “That Wagner’s full of it?”
Penny nodded. “Exactly.”
Laura slipped her sneakers on her sock-covered feet. Then the three longtime friends hustled out of the salon, laughing between themselves.
Lark smacked her hands. “All righty then, Reagan, let’s get that hair of yours styled. Then Purdy’s due for a massage in one of the back treatment rooms.” She guided Reagan back over to her chair.
“Sure, but first I have to say, when you’re settled in upstairs, I’m begging to come over and trawl through your Agatha collection.” She placed her hand over her heart. “Big time fan.”
Chloe followed suit. “Me too.”
“Me three.” Purdy nodded before taking a swig of water. “Nerds unite!”
“You’re kidding?” The blonde tea drinker let out a squeal. “I’m so loving this town!”
Me too. Mostly. If only she didn’t feel such a void. One that, frankly, King’s Bluff itself couldn’t fill.
She half-listened to Lark’s home styling instructions as the woman plunged her hands into Reagan’s hair, scrunching in product.
What was Quinn doing now in Seattle? They were what, an hour behind in the northwest. She checked her watch. Ten in the morning. Would he be meeting a client at one of the many coffee houses? No, more likely he’d be locked away in secret talks in some tall office building. And Mike, was he hunkered down at King’s Haven, pouring over his laptop?
Was he thinking about her?
She huffed out a sigh.
Warm air flicked over the back of her neck as the whirr of the hair dryer drowned out any notion of talking. It suited her fine. Her mind sifted through an earlier conversation as Chloe’s words replayed over and again in her head. Give yourself time to take a breath, see things from a distance.
Time and distance, huh? Sounded easy enough, but neither of those things on their own would change the guys’ opinions on her father’s innocence. All she could see was her compromising on her stance. How could she do that, as his main defender?
They left her with little choice. Unless the guys were prepared to meet her halfway and try to see things from her side, then she saw no alternative but to keep their break a permanent one.
Sometimes a girl’s heroes were just better left in a book.
* * * *
Mike gazed over the deserted beanbags, chairs, and computer stations of the Youth Café. Unlike last Tuesday, there didn’t seem to be too many takers for free Internet surfing and the sharing of teenage angst. Of the café’s three occupants, he was one. The second being the counselor, now busy catching up on paperwork, and the other a kid who’d dived into the back kitchen and had yet to resurface.
At a guess, word had circulated that today he’d be head confessor to the young citizens of King’s Bluff. And they’d stayed away in droves.
This is what Flynn got for not listening to him in the first place. Hadn’t he warned his friend he wasn’t the touchy-feely type? Now the kids had headed for the hills, or the diner. Whatever was closest.
From his perch in one of the mismatched lounge chairs, he thumbed the edge of his cell phone. Flynn had called at lunchtime and wished him all the best for this afternoon’s misadventure. The Aussie had laughed all through Mike’s curses and suggestions for where Flynn could shove his encouragement. Until right at the end. “You need this, Mike.” Then he’d hung up.
Asshole.
Both he and Noah had invited him up to the house for a meal and driven down to the cabin to catch up as he followed leads on Reagan’s case. Imagine her hissy fit when she found out they’d kept going. As if we’d stop.
He tightened his jaw at the memory of last Thursday and her terminating their investigation, her shaking hands, the faint sheen of tears in her eyes that grew to puddles as she’d turned to flee. Worst of all, the pain in her voice as she’d fought for her dad’s case, defending him against the clearly laid out facts he and Quinn had assembled. My dad was one of the good guys. Doesn’t that count for some
thing?
In fairness, they hadn’t readied the hangman’s noose, even stating they weren’t prepared to call him guilty. But Reagan had blocked out anything they’d said after their first few words.
From the moment she’d returned from the restroom and sat back down at their table, she’d been ready for battle.
Therein lay a mystery he was determined to solve.
He thumbed the edge of his phone. The temptation to call her or go knock on her door bit into his ass. However, he’d do the right thing, wait until Quinn returned. They’d pursued Reagan as a team, and that wouldn’t stop now.
Instead, here he was, some forty minutes into an unmitigated fool’s journey of self-fulfillment. And why? Resignation twisted his lips into a wry slant. Because he’d made a promise and Mike never backed away from a promise. Flynn knew it.
That kid still lurked in the kitchen. The least he could do was attempt one conversation with a human under the age of twenty. Of more importance, he needed coffee.
The female counselor gave him looked up as he strode past. Her “you can do it” smile almost had him walking out. He managed a short grunt and nod in acknowledgment, saving up all of his warm, fuzzy humanity for the boy.
Near the end of the hallway separating the front room and the back area, he paused and dragged in a cleansing breath. Remember, he’s a kid. Not some fresh recruit in BUD/S training. Easy does it.
Mike sighed to himself as he took the last few steps. The kid was probably listening to music, surfing on his iPhone or—
Stealing food?
The young boy, no more than twelve guessing by the narrow shoulders and lack of height, removed two sandwiches from a plate and wrapped them in paper napkins. A couple of oranges sat beside his hoard, ready for safekeeping in the small backpack hanging from his arm.
Mike remained undetected in the kitchen doorway. The soles of his boots had made no noise on the carpeted floor. Mastering the skill of walking silent in the jungles and alleyways of the world’s hot spots as you stalked your prey had its payoffs.
