Page 106 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

When I wakein the late morning, I’m too hot, and everything hurts. I take another long shower, but even the soothing water doesn’t revive my spirits. My hair has a weird new design thanks to the fire. I think about taking the kitchen scissors, but with my mood right now, I don’t trust myself not to hack it to bits.

Grams is in the kitchen, her long white hair tied back in a knot. Two rising lumps of sourdough under hand towels rest on the back of the range, and it smells of apples and cloves, like she’s made fresh cider.

I pad over and wrap my arms around her. She holds me gently, and I savor the warmth of our embrace and the love we share. I know I gave her quite a scare yesterday.Just add it to my list of mistakes.

“Will you cut my hair?” I ask.

She gives me a pointed look, then nods.

We set up like when I was little, with a sheet around me like a cape and Grams with her shears and combs.

“I’m no hairdresser,” she warns after I tell her what I need.

“I trust you,” I say.

She combs my hair and snips off a two-inch-long lock, then repeats it so the length matches. Outside the kitchen window, a gust of wind drifts through the leaves. It carries the murmur of conversation, and I glance at Grams.

“Who’s here?”

“Hunter and Brian.”

I frown.

“One or more of your crazy brothers have been here all night, keeping watch. I tried to tell them that between Charlie and my shotgun, we’d be fine, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“It’s in their DNA,” I say.

“Being stubborn, or overprotective?”

I laugh. “Both.”

Grams shakes her head.

“And you and I both know that Charlie’s a worthless attack dog.”

She snips another section of my hair. “I think he’d know trouble, though.”

“How did you know you loved granddad?”

If she’s surprised at my sudden change of subject, she doesn’t let on. “He was my best friend first. I had no idea he had a crush on me.”

I give her a look. “I never knew that.”

She combs out another section of my hair. “We were juniors in high school when he asked me out. I thought he was joking.”

I laugh. “Ouch.”

“You can imagine my embarrassment when I realized he was serious. I figured I owed him at least one date.”

“When did you know he was your guy?”

“He listened to my dreams, Lexie. He believed in me. It wasn’t long until I realized how rare and beautiful that is.”

“Did your dreams ever…put you at odds?” I ask, my stomach wriggling.

“Oh my, yes,” Grams says, carefully slipping off my cape so the hair falls to the floor and not down my neck. “But without friction, there’s no spark.”

I picture my granddad dancing with Grams in the kitchen when they thought nobody was watching.

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