Page 46 of Captivating Anika

He leans in for a kiss before he responds.

“Worth it.”

“Mom’s food? It’s good, but trust me, it’s not that good.”

“No, you,” he corrects me. “You’re worth it.”

I’m still replaying that conversation when I get back to the salon for my two o’clock appointment.

I left Hog installed on the couch with a blanket, his phone, the remote, a bottle of water, and a basket of snacks. He assured me he could get up and grab what he needs himself, but it makes me feel better to know he doesn’t have to.

When I enter through the back door, the first person I encounter is Landon, who walks out of the supply room, muttering under his breath.

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” he expresses when he sees me.

I’m immediately alarmed.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“We’re swamped. We had three walk-ins over lunch Molly should’ve refused but didn’t, and when I pointed it out, she ran out of here crying. That was ten minutes ago and now there’s two of us trying to juggle our own appointments, the walk-ins, and Kim’s clients as well. My one thirty is out there waiting for me to be done with Kim’s twelve o’clock. It’s mayhem.”

There’s a lot to take in here, not the least of it Molly taking off. Landon can fly off the handle sometimes and when he does, it’s not always pretty. But that’s not what has my attention right now.

“Kim’s not back from her appointment?” I ask, following behind him as he heads to the front.

Kim was supposed to meet with the counselor Mel set her up with this morning, but was expected back before lunch.

“Nope. She called and said something came up,” he shares, looking back at me over his shoulder

“You talked to her?” I ask, hanging back.

“Monique did.”

One glance into the salon tells me he wasn’t exaggerating.

There are three people sitting in the small waiting nook by the front desk, one of them my client. Then one person is sitting at Monique’s station, while she is rinsing out another at the sinks, and Landon’s chair is also occupied, but he’s currently dealing with the person sitting at Kim’s station.

All eyes are on me and nobody is looking particularly happy.

Part of me wants to turn right back around and walk out, but I can’t. I own the joint.

So, I hold up one finger, ask for a minute, and duck into my office to get rid of my purse, change my shoes for my comfy Crocs, and dial Molly’s number. I’m about to give up when she answers.

The first thing she says is, “I’m sorry.”

“What happened?”

I do my best to keep my voice from sounding as overwhelmed as I am, and listen patiently to her explanation, when patience is the last thing I feel.

“I can see why that would’ve upset you,” I try to calm her, channeling my inner Dr. Phil. “We all know Landon can be…how shall I put it…a little temperamental, and I’m sure he’ll tell you himself how badly he feels for yelling at you.”

At least he will, after I tell him to. We can properly clear the air when we don’t have a salon full of pissed-off people.

“Where are you now?” I ask, holding my breath and hoping she’s not already home.

“On the bench by the river. I walked down here.”

I know the spot; I occasionally walk down there myself when it’s not busy and I need a breather.

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