Page 6 of Beauty and the Grease
Annabelle appears with a broom in hand. Today, her jet black hair is rolled and pinned like a 1940s starlet. She’s a single mom of two teenagers and we’re close in age (forty-smorty-something-something). I admire her ability to reinvent her look. My hair has been stuck in the same shoulder length non-style for the past decade. While I used to be immediately identified as a redhead, my hair has faded to strawberry blond, like the LaCroix version of a redhead. Add to that, a white streak developed since my fortieth birthday.
“Storm’s coming.” Annabelle nods toward the front window. “The cold front mixing with our recent heat could mean a supercell in the works.”
Everyone in Derby is a part-time meteorologist, by the way. At least in their eyes.
Chase sighs with impatience. “Storms, really? Just what I need.” He runs a hand through his expertly trimmed hair.
A pulse hits my fingertips, remembering how his hair felt beneath my own hands. The soft tingle in that spot beneath the back of my nail and the pad of each finger. I pivot toward the wall, my heart hammering. It’s like my body is calling up feelings from cold storage.Deep cold storage.
One of the mechanics arrives to save the day. “Sir? Are you the owner of the Audi? I can show you the damage and let you know what we can do.”
Chase follows, giving my heart a chance to explain itself.
Annabelle raises a drawn-on brow. “So what’s the story between you two?”
Kara gasps. “See? I told you there was chemistry!”
“Told her? When?” I look between them. “Never mind.” What they don’t cover in texts plays out in telepathic looks. Instant friends, these two, the second I hired Kara to run the front desk. I’ve never seen non-verbal communication handled so well.
Annabelle shrugs. “He’s a nice-looking guy, is all.”
Nice looking, sure. Pure poison, more like. A trap wrapped in salt-and-pepper hair and a business suit.
Annabelle eyes me. She and I have hit it off well since she set up her salon, but I haven’t told her I used to be married. It’s just not a thing I tell people. What’s there to say? We dated responsibly for several years, but little did we know, his family hated my guts and went nuclear when we ran off and married without telling them?
I believed then that love conquered all. Plus, I’m a pretty great person, according to my friends and family, and figured Chase’s parents would eventually come around to see that.
Oh, they came around alright. Came right around with an attorney and threats.
Chase returns and summarizes in not-car-guy terms what’s wrong with his Audi. I hate to admit I like that the parts require special order and the labor costs will help our bottom line. At least there’s a financial boost in exchange for today’s emotional turmoil.
He checks his watch again.
I need to get him out of here before Annabelle or Kara start grilling him. “I’ll grab my keys from the office.”
He shifts his weight, looking at the restaurant across the street instead of at me. He’s clean shaven, but with a slight hint of beard growth. When we were together, his skin had been smooth. Untouched by life. That’s what strikes me most about him now. He looks like he’s lived.
And as the unfairness of life of goes, the extra living looks good on him. Figures.
I tend to get compliments for not looking my age, but I owe a hefty chunk of gratitude to daily SPF on my fair skin and my old gal Retinol. Honorable mention to Clairol Nice’n Easy. I wish this day was nice and easy.
In my personal office, I switch out my work shirt, damp from rain, and swap my boots for slide-on sneakers. I grab the cardigan hanging on the back of the desk chair. Might as well get this over with.
CHAPTER 4
Chase
We’re in Jenny’s truck—not the clown tow, but her personal truck. It’s a more Jenny-sized pickup in a standard gray instead of wacky orange. The truck is an older model, but it’s clean and well-cared for.
I can hardly believe she drives trucks at all. She used to drive a sedan. A white Jetta. We used to drive it all over the place together.
After grabbing my bags from the car and tossing them into the truck bed, she takes off like she knows where she’s going.
I grab my phone and tap the map app. “Let me look up the address.”
“Already got it. Kara texted it to me.”
Oh. “Thanks.”
