Page 2 of Claiming My Grumpy Ex

“I’m hoping to make it a regular thing,” I said, glancing up at her in the mirror. “Just bought a place on the lake. Figured I could use a spot to escape to when the city gets a little too much.”

She smiled, not looking the least bit surprised. “Dallas, right? It’s funny how many people come here for exactly that reason.”

“Yeah?” I raised an eyebrow. “Guess I’m not as original as I thought.”

Her laugh was soft and friendly. “There’s plenty of room for everyone. Cedar Cove might be small, but it’s got its hidden treasures.”

I gave a half-smile, nodding. “I could use a few of those right about now.”

She paused, studying me for a second, and I wondered if I’d said too much. But she just went back to cutting, her tone easygoing. “If you’re looking for quiet spots, there’s a trail just west of the lake. Not many people go out there, and the views are worth it. You can see the whole valley from the top.”

“Sounds perfect,” I replied. “Can’t say I’ve done much exploring around here.”

The scissors kept snipping, and I let the tension slip away bit by bit. She finished trimming the top, moving around to the sides with a focused look. “What kind of work do you do?”

“Philanthropy,” I said, the word feeling both foreign and familiar in my mouth. “Big-city stuff. Keeps me busy, even when I’d rather it didn’t.”

She gave a knowing nod, her hands steady as she worked. “Bet the view from your office isn’t quite like the one you’ve got here.”

I let out a small laugh. “Not even close. This is… different.”

“Different can be good,” she replied, giving me a smile in the mirror. “Sometimes we need a change to remind us of what matters.”

Her words settled over me, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much she knew about my life. Of course, she didn’t know anything—I guessed this was just how people talked here. Open, honest, none of that guarded politeness you got in the city.

“You’ve been here a while?” I asked, trying to turn the conversation back to her.

She nodded. “Moved here about ten years ago. I wanted something small, a place to settle down. It’s been good for me. People here are friendly, and it’s nice to know your neighbors.”

“Sounds like you found your place,” I murmured, noticing she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Yet she seemed genuinely happy and settled. I couldn’t remember feeling that way in a long time, maybe ever.

She gave me a curious glance, pausing mid-cut. “You sound like you’re still looking.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, surprising myself. “Guess I didn’t realize I was until I ended up here.”

Her smile was understanding, like she knew exactly what I meant without me having to spell it out. As she moved around me, I couldn’t help but notice the way her auburn hair caught the light, soft waves falling over her shoulders, framing her green eyes with a warmth that felt both familiar and unsettling. Her blouse clung just enough to hint at her curves, a glimpse of blacklace peeking through the sheer fabric. I found myself looking a little too long, and when I finally met her gaze in the mirror, I caught a spark in her eyes—like she’d noticed me, too.

She stepped back, giving my hair one last look, and I felt something unexpected—a flicker of regret that the conversation and the haircut were almost over.

As she tidied up my hairline, my gaze drifted around her station, capturing the essence of her workspace—the array of professional tools meticulously arranged, a well-loved coffee cup with a faded floral pattern, a small potted plant thriving under the soft glow of a desk lamp, and a framed photograph delicately placed beside the mirror. It was a boy, probably around ten, grinning wide in a little league uniform, baseball cap slightly askew. The kid had that look—the one only kids with endless energy and a dash of trouble in them managed to pull off.

Something about him struck me and made me pause. Sandy hair, a touch of mischief in his eyes… There was a familiarity there, like looking at an old memory that didn’t quite fit in. I couldn’t shake the feeling, though I brushed it off as a coincidence. A lot of kids look alike, right? Still, the thought lingered in the back of my mind.

Ellie noticed me looking and smiled, her face softening as she glanced at the photo.

“My son,” she said, pride and warmth in her voice. “He’s ten. Full of energy and always on the go.”

I nodded, feeling a strange pang in my chest that I couldn’t quite name. “Looks like he keeps you busy.”

“Busy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she laughed. “But it’s a good kind of busy. Keeps me grounded.”

Her words hung between us, and I felt something twist inside me—a mix of admiration and something harder to pin down. She wasn’t just another stylist in another small-town salon. She wassomeone who seemed to have her life set, a sense of purpose that felt… solid.

I glanced back at the kid in the photo, that unsettling sense of familiarity nudging at me again, but I brushed it off. Just my mind playing tricks. After all, it’d been years since I’d thought about settling down, let alone with a kid.

I forced myself to look away, back up at her in the mirror, watching as she removed the cape.

Just as I was reaching for my wallet to pay, Ellie’s phone rang, cutting through the quiet hum of the salon. She glanced at the screen, and her face instantly tightened, the ease from moments before evaporating. She held up a finger, a quick “just a sec” before answering.

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