Page 5 of Weatherman

“I’ll work something out with you. Go sit in my chair, and I’ll get you set up.”

I finished with my client and set the timer. Kimmie worked on a set of nails for a new client and gabbed about some new bar she’d found and how much fun she had going there.

I took a few minutes to text Lori about my daughter. Most of the time, Pearl was a happy, content baby, but this morning, she was a bit fussy. I put it down to cutting molars and made a mental note to pick up some baby Tylenol on the way to get her later.

I stretched my back and several bones popped. Standing on my feet for hours on end really did a number on my legs and back. I’d given up on anything stylish and cute and instead wore Skechers with arch supports nowadays.

The bell over the door rang out, and the eye-wave greeting started again. This time there were squeals of pleasure.

“Hey, Weatherman!”

“When did you get in?”

“How’s your mama?”

I bit my lip. The salon patrons treated the woman sitting in Tambre’s chair, currently getting her hair slathered in a thick creamy mask, like a pariah, while they fawned over the man. It bothered me.

“Mom’s doing okay now. She’s got her first chemo treatment tomorrow morning, though. I expect she’ll be feeling rough for a few days.”

His voice was deep and resonant, with a pleasant sound. I imagined he could charm the pants off any of the women who were currently drooling on their capes. Not me. I was immune to men at this point in my life. I had my daughter and my growing reputation as a colorist and stylist. That was enough. Frankly, I didn’t want anything to come along and mess it up.

“Hey, Tambre, any way you can work me in for a quick trim?”

Did you not see the full waiting area?I turned away and picked up the broom, intent on ignoring him and keeping my hands busy.

“I’m working on Donna right now, and Marilee is waiting for me,” she replied.

No,I said in my head.Please not me.

“Looks like all the chairs are full, but if Courtney doesn’t mind moving to the shampoo station while her color times out, I bet Opal can get you sorted.”

I closed my eyes in resignation. I didn’t want to cut his hair, whoever he was, but when my boss asked me to do something, it was a good idea to comply. I put a smile on my face and leaned the broom back against the wall. “You bet.”

I had to lock my knees when I finally took in his appearance. Taller than me by at least a head, nice masculine build but not bulky, clean hair and face with high, sculpted cheekbones and full lips. He could be a model in a magazine ad.

Though it was his eyes that nearly sent me to the floor.

Greenish-gold hazel gazed back at me. Eyes nearly the same shade as someone else I knew.Usedto know. Someone I kept in my private memories, just for me.

“Good afternoon, Opal. I’m Weatherman.” He reached out a square-shaped hand for me to shake.

I just stared at it. White noise filled my head, and my belly twisted as if a snake were coiling up to strike. I’d cut and styled plenty of women. The last man whose hair I cut…

“Opal?”

“It’s okay, baby. You got this.”

The guiding voice helped get my focus back. Yes, I could do this.

I forced something resembling a smile and made myself take his hand for a brief shake. “Yeah, hi. Have a seat, and I’ll go get a fresh cape.”

When I came back out from the storeroom, I spotted two of the ladies in the waiting area giggling, blushing, and sneaking pics with their phones of the man in my chair. Was he some sort of celebrity?Not my problem or my business. I’ll just give him a cut and let everything else go.

“Your hair isn’t too bad. Why don’t you go to Morris’s Barbershop like all the other men in town do?” I asked.

He grinned, showing off perfect white teeth. Either he had fantastic genes or a great orthodontist. “Last time I went there, he did a number on me. Looked terrible on the air, and I had to wait until it grew out enough to fix it. Nope, I’d rather get it done right.”

“On the air?”

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