by Lynn Cooper
Bon Bon Beauty
Lynn Cooper
Copyright © 2015 Lynn Cooper
All rights reserved.
Saffron, you don’t have to hide behind romance novels anymore, reading about the passionate lovemaking of others. You can live it with me. I’m the man who can make your fantasies come true. All you have to do is let me.
—Parker Sloan
PARKER WAS GRITTING HIS teeth to bite back words he had been longing to say for months. Instead of telling Tiffany Atlas to step off, he clenched his fists and listened as she droned on and on about their magical future together—one he wanted no part of.
“Honestly, Parker, darling! Can’t you just see it now? Saturday evenings spent ballroom dancing. Sunday brunch at the country club. All of our dinner and hotel reservations listed under Dr. and Mrs. Parker Sloan. You’ll spend your days at the hospital saving lives, being dashing and heroic. I’ll be the gorgeous, delightful socialite, raising money for our favorite charities. Spending my days seeing and being seen.”
Blowing out an impatient breath of frustration, he said, “Only one problem with your scenario, sweetheart. I’m not a doctor. I’m a paramedic.”
“Pishposh. There is no problem. Your father told mine that you were only a scant six months away from finishing medical school when you dropped out. All you really need to do is take the Medical Board Exam, and voilà! You’ll be a doctor before the ink dries on our marriage license.”
He raked a hand through his unruly, black hair when what he really wanted to do was pull it out by the roots. Tiffany—or Tiff, as her pompous-assed father always called her—had no idea who Parker was or what he wanted out of life. All she could think about was landing herself a doctor, and she had set her sights on him and his potential to become one.
Standing, Parker paced the hallway that ran down the center of the EMT station. It was next to impossible to sit still while talking to Tiffany. “I’ve told you a million times; I have no intention of becoming a doctor. I’ve wasted too many years trying to live up to my dad’s expectations. I love being a paramedic. I get a great deal of satisfaction from my job. I am not interested in being a clone of the great Dr. Nate Sloan. So, drop it, okay?”
Through the phone, he could hear the tapping of her long, lacquered nails against what was certainly an expensive, highly-polished piece of furniture in her parents’ upscale condominium. Her syrupy-sweet voice from just minutes ago turned venomous. “Well! You better get interested because I am not marrying some low-rent underling. Do you understand me, Parker Sloan? Daddy promised me a doctor, and that’s what I shall have.”
The line went dead before he could retaliate. It was just as well; a call was coming in, a Code Bravo 13. There was an unconscious victim at 1137 West Reidville Road, Sparkle City, South Carolina. The address was for the Bon Bon Beauty Parlor, ironically located on the low-rent side of town. It was the polar opposite of the Upper Eastside where the Atlases as well as Parker’s parents resided in the lap of luxury.
Since the call was non-life threatening, he took it alone. He left his partner Chase, who had pulled a double shift the day before, at the station to catch some much-needed zzz’s.
As Parker exited the ambulance, he grabbed his medical bag and a small trauma kit in case the victim had sustained any injuries from fainting.
When he stepped into the beauty parlor, his eyes were immediately drawn to a cluster of women. They were gathered around a gorgeous young woman lying supine on the floor. Her long, luxurious hair was beautifully splayed across the black and white tiles. She was the loveliest woman he had ever seen. A brunette with creamy, caramel-colored skin that made his mouth water. She was full-figured with luscious curves in all the right places.
Parker had to mentally shake himself. He needed to attend to her medical needs first. He could admire her physical attributes later.
Some of the women congregated around her had curlers in their hair. Others had towels wrapped around their heads. Several of the older women were fanning the unconscious beauty with magazines.
Parker attempted to wedge his way through the crowd, but they had formed a Fort Knox-like wall and showed no signs of moving. “Will you ladies please step aside and give me some room to work?”
A short, stout African-American woman who looked to be about seventy moved back a few feet, allowing him room to kneel beside his patient. He placed two fingers on the young woman’s neck and found her pulse to be strong and steady. He lifted her eyelids to check her pupils. They were a normal size. No dilation. All good signs. Glancing at the septuagenarian, he asked, “What’s the victim’s name?”
“Honey child, you looking at the one and only Saffron a.k.a. Bon Bon Butler. She come up hard and fast in a trailer park down by Terse Row Hill. She barely survived being raised by her now-deceased crackhead mama. Never had no daddy. She ain’t a victim. She a survivor.”
Not quite knowing how to respond, Parker nodded. “I don’t see an alert bracelet or necklace on Miss Butler. Does she have any medical conditions that you know of?”
“Yes, she do. She got the hippogliceema. Lawd-a-mercy, I told her it was time for her snack. But, no! Old cranky Myrtle over there couldn’t wait. She just had to keep on pushing until she got her nappy head dyed blue.”
Myrtle snapped, “Nappy? Have you had a look in the mirror, Wavalee Tisdale? I’ve seen better hair on a Dammit Doll than what’s sproutin’ out yore head.”
Parker cleared his throat loudly. “Ms. Tisdale, are you sure it’s hypoglycemia and not hyperglycemia?”
“She got whichever one is low. Her sugar never goes high.”
He pulled a glucose monitor from his bag. Sticking Saffron’s finger confirmed her blood sugar was definitely low enough to cause a fainting spell. Immediately, he placed a quick dissolving glucose tab under her tongue.
Within seconds of absorption, her eyes fluttered open. All the women in the beauty parlor clapped and cheered, then dispersed. Most of them took seats under hairdryers, picking up previously discarded magazines as if nothing had happened.
Taking Saffron’s hand in his, Parker gazed into her pretty eyes. They were the color of melted chocolate—warm and sweet. He offered her his most reassuring smile and said, “I’m Parker Sloan. Welcome back.”
SAFFRON SLOWLY PULLED HER hand away from the hottest man she had ever laid eyes on. She could feel the heat of attraction burning her face as she struggled to sit up. When he spoke, the deep sexy timbre of his voice made her tingle all over.
“Take it easy, Miss Butler. You don’t want to get up too fast.”
She waved his words away. “I’m fine. I forgot to eat, that’s all.”
A jolt of electricity shot through her limbs when he put his arm around her waist and lifted her to a standing position. Walking her over to one of the salon chairs, he supported her while she sat down.
With touching concern in his voice, he said, “That glucose tab won’t last long. You really need to get something of substance in you right away.”
Wavalee spoke up. “Saffron, baby, throw me the key to the display case. I want to grab some of these beautiful bon bons you made for—”
Parker’s words came out as a command. “No candy! Miss Butler needs some healthy fats, proteins and complex carbohydrates to steadily raise her blood sugar and keep it level.”
Saffron cringed at the expression on her best client’s face. The hunky paramedic had no idea what he’d done. Nobody interrupted Ms. Tisdale and got away with it.
With her fists balled atop her hips, Wavalee bobbed her neck back and forth with the attitude of a much younger woman. The curlers on her head flopped furiously as she spat words of anger. �
��You best take it down a notch, fool! These bon bons ain’t for Saffron. They was for you. But, not now! Your rude ass done gone too far.”
Saffron felt sorry for Parker. The shocked, sheepish look on his face pulled at her heart strings. She felt compelled to try and smooth things over for him. Her voice was soft and cajoling when she addressed Wavalee. “I’m sure Mr. Sloan didn’t mean to be rude. He was only trying to do his job, to protect me from any further harm. I have some string cheese and a chicken leg in the mini fridge in the break room. Will you grab them for me?”
The old woman huffed. “Sure thing, baby, but he needs to be gone when I get back.” She made sure to give Parker the evil eye before turning away.
Looking up into his handsome, chiseled face, Saffron smiled. “Don’t mind Wavalee. She’s known me since I was a little girl and takes her role as mama bear very seriously. She comes off tough but, inside, she’s a real softie.”
Parker hung his head. “I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. I made a wrong assumption. But you were right. I was protecting you. People often have the wrong idea when it comes to hypoglycemia. They naturally assume that having low blood sugar means you need to eat more of it. When, in actuality, the opposite is true.”
“You’re preaching to the choir. Over the years, I have become quite an expert on the subject. I have lots of small meals throughout the day. And I’m careful to eat the combination of foods you mentioned earlier.”
Gesturing toward the display case filled with bon bons, he asked, “You made those? Are you a hairdresser or a chocolatier?”
She giggled. “Both.”
Before she could elaborate, Wavalee came barreling out of the break room with Saffron’s snacks. Furrowing her brow, she gave Parker another hard look. “I know you a paramedic, but are you the candy police, too?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer before turning her attention to Saffron, handing her the food she had requested. “Here, baby, you eat up now.”
With her hands emptied, she planted them back on her hips and whirled on Parker. “Let me tell you something, young man. Saffron only got two good things from her no-account mama: a God-given talent to fix hair, and another to make the best chocolate bon bons this side of Paris.”
Parker nodded. “I’m sure she does both really well. I’m sorry for interrupting you earlier. I—”
Wavalee cut him off, continuing her rant. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but she don’t use no sugar in her candy. She uses unsweetened cocoa and a natural sweetener that don’t raise nobody’s sugar. Her bon bons are healthy and safe even for diabetics. She makes them for all of us at no charge even though she could sell them to any high-dollar confection shop in the world. Do you know all the fancy salons on the Upper Eastside have tried to hire her? But she turned them all down. Do you know why? So she can take care of us. Make us look pretty even though we on a fixed income. Shoot! She could be hob-knobbing all up in there with those highfalutin money bags. Instead, she keep it real with us.”
Saffron chewed a bite of cheese and patted Wavalee on the arm. After swallowing the soft mozzarella, she said, “I’m sure this man isn’t interested in my life story. Besides, he should probably be getting back to work. Right, Mr. Sloan?”
“Right—if you’re sure you feel okay now. I can hang around for a while if you need me.”
Saffron wanted to tell this heartthrob she was better than okay with him standing there beside her. She longed to say she had spent her entire life afraid of letting any man get too close. If she were honest, he was the first one she had ever felt utterly and helplessly drawn to. In fact, she wouldn’t mind him hanging around forever. Instead, she smiled and said, “I’m fine now. Thanks for all your help.”
“Anytime,” he said, grabbing his medical bag and walking out the door.
WHEN PARKER REACHED THE ambulance, he tossed his bag inside the cab, bent forward and placed both hands on his knees. Focusing on his breath, he drew air deep into his lungs and slowly blew it out again. Inside the beauty shop, his chest tightened with desire when he looked into Saffron’s beautiful brown eyes. His heart had galloped like a wild mustang racing across the Montana Mountains when she leaned on him for support. Her beauty and genuine sweetness had caught him completely off guard. The feelings and needs she stirred inside him made him feel alive—something he hadn’t felt for a long time.
It was this sudden awakening which caused him to viciously lament the years spent toiling away in medical school and the misery it had caused him. Never had he wanted a life of his own as much he did now. True, medicine was in his genes. Parker couldn’t deny it. But just because he had a doctor’s DNA didn’t make him want to be one. No, that was his father’s dream, and he had been beyond furious when his son dropped out, destroying it.
If Parker dared admit it, he purposely denied his father the pleasure of puffing out his chest and bragging to all his colleagues about how well his son had done in medical school. How he was going to graduate at the top of his class. How someday the two of them would go into practice together and set the world of cardiology on fire. But Parker didn’t want to spend countless hours a day working beside his father. He couldn’t bear the suffocating prospect of standing elbow-to-elbow with him in an operating room, performing one heart transplant, valve replacement or quadruple bypass after another.
Being a paramedic was Parker’s passion. The thrill of being a first responder, the rush of being the one to evaluate, stabilize and comfort a victim in distress. He thrived on answering those life-saving calls. Each day brought with it a new challenge. He had no interest in spending sixteen-hour shifts inside a hospital. The claustrophobia alone would drive him insane.
Of course Nate Sloan couldn’t possibly understand any of those things. He had made it crystal clear that he wanted only two things from Parker—for him to follow in his perfect physician’s footsteps and for him to marry Tiffany Atlas. Parker wanted to do neither of those things. The latter had been a remote possibility up until a few moments ago. But now that he had met and touched Saffron Butler, there was no way in hell he was going to the altar with little Miss Socialite.
PROPPED UP IN BED with soft jazz filling her tiny apartment, Saffron grabbed the newest paperback romance from her bedside table. She had fallen in love with books from the moment she learned to read. Instantly, they comforted her and became her best friends. The more she read, the more she wanted to. Books were a safe and effective means of escape from the turmoil that had filled her childhood—one rife with fear and sadness.
Even now she wondered how her life would have been different had her father not run off the day she was born. With no explanation, he bolted from the hospital without signing her birth certificate, leaving her and her mother Starla all alone to fend for themselves.
With no other family and only a few friends, Starla turned to drugs to ease the pain of her man’s rejection. Even high as a kite, she was a fantastic hairdresser, and she made the best bon bons Saffron had ever tasted. The delicious candy, cute haircuts and flawless permanent waves kept a steady line of customers coming to the trailer each week. Instead of using the money Starla earned to better herself and move Saffron to safer housing, she used it to support her drug habit.
Being so young, Saffron didn’t understand the seriousness of addiction. Nor was she equipped to intervene. All she could do was helplessly watch as her mama wasted away before her eyes and eventually overdosed the summer Saffron graduated from high school.
She sold the trailer to pay for her mama’s funeral before moving in with the woman who had been Starla’s very first customer—Wavalee Tisdale. The much older woman had been a beacon of light and optimism during Saffron’s darkest days. Wavalee even co-signed the loan with her to buy the Bon Bon Beauty Parlor.
Saffron shook her head and smiled, recalling the exchange between Wavalee and Parker—the most handsome man ever to walk the earth. The only man to seize all her senses at once. A man she hadn’t been able to g
et out of her mind for the last week. Every time the door to the beauty parlor opened, her heart would palpitate with the hope that he had come back to check on her. She knew it was a silly fantasy, but it was one she couldn’t help but entertain.
He had been on her mind constantly, and she longed to see him again. The attraction and intensity of heat between them had continued to warm her for the last seven days. She ached to feel his arms about her, to hear his deep baritone voice, to look into his bedroom eyes. Since there were hundreds of paramedics in Sparkle City, it was highly unlikely they would run into each other again. Besides, it was foolish to think he had felt any of the electricity she had.
During the past week, she had entertained many scenarios, all involving ways to see him again. She imagined herself fake-fainting on the sidewalk outside the beauty parlor. A Good Samaritan would whip out their cell phone and call for an ambulance. Seeing as how things always work out perfectly in a fantasy, the sexy Parker Sloan would be on duty and come racing to her rescue. Maybe he would be astride a white horse instead of driving a red ambulance. She giggled at such an absurd prospect.
Saffron had even fancied herself in the role of detective—the savvy computer sort—who would use the tools of the internet to track his every movement. With some careful planning and the element of good timing, she could conveniently show up wherever he happened to be. Naturally, she would feign surprise, saying something witty like, “Imagine this! What’s a handsome heartthrob like you doing at a fish camp like this?”
It was fun to dream but safer to keep things real. Sighing deeply, Saffron vowed to deal with the loneliness the way she always had. She would bury herself in her romance novels where every hunky hero in every book would become Parker Sloan. It would have to be enough for now, maybe forever. She wasn’t ready to entrust her heart to any man. Her mama made that mistake and ended up dead.
