“I never thought I’d be with a man who owned more hair products than me,” she quipped. He followed her to a bathroom between two bedrooms at the end of a short hall.

“I don’t own all that many products,” he said, defensiveness creeped in.

“Maybe I shouldn’t tease when I’m so tired.” She pulled at a rubber band showing through the knotted mass of hair.

“It’s all right,” he sighed. Odd for him to overreact. “We’re going to cut the rubber band.”

“It’s a lost cause,” she agreed.

“How did this happen?”

“Two different mud puddles. Fell forward into one and backward into another. The hair is from one night with Jill. Probably turned gray under all the mud.” She brandished a pair of scissors out of the drawer. “Maybe it’d be easier to cut it off.”

“Let’s try this first,” he said, working one side of the scissors under the rubber band; once cut, it disappeared into the knot.

“What happened?”

“We’ll find that later,” he said, opening the bottle of cooking oil.

“Isn’t that going to be a mess? Why oil?”

“It’ll moisturize and help loosen the knots. And yes, it’ll be a muddy mess.”

“How on earth do you know this?”

“My mom owned a hair salon,” he said, slathering the oil on the ball of hair and massaging. “For years, I had to go sit there after school and work on my homework. You pick up a few things and know all the neighborhood gossip, like who slept with the pool boy and disgraced herself.”

“No way,” she laughed, some of the tension she’d been carrying eased.

“Yeah way,” he replied, gingerly pulling at the ball of hair and freeing a small bit.

“I’m sure you have more important stuff at work I’m keeping you from.”

“Nonsense. My laptop is in the car. I’ll log on after I’m done and see if there are any fires I need to put out.”

“It’s a lost cause, isn’t it?”

“No, I’ll get all the knots worked out soon.”

“Not the hair.” They made eye contact in the mirror.

“That’s not a lost cause, either,” he said, hoping that were true. “It doesn’t require me 24/7, like I was working.” He was waiting on more evidence from the forensic accountant and whether or not this would cross into felony category, and they would file charges against Melvin. He was in limbo.

J.P. worked on the knotted hair for a long time in silence, until Violet swayed. She was dozing off standing up. He had her sit on the toilet lid while he finished getting the mass untangled.

“Let’s get you into the shower now,” he said when satisfied. Violet was pretty much asleep sitting upright, and she groaned.

He pulled back the shower curtain and started the water. Afraid that she’d pass out in the shower, he pulled off his shirt and prepared to help her out of her clothes. Violet came back to life when he started on her shirt.

“I got it, thanks,” Violet said, turning, and at the sight of his bare chest, stopped. It boosted his ego the way she took in the sight of him. Her perusal stopped his heart. He’d had other women find him attractive, but Violet was different. And her wanting him was the best thing on earth.

“Why are you shirtless?”

“I’m afraid you will fall asleep in the shower while looking up and drown.”

A weak smile appeared. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired in my life.” She pulled the dark, long-sleeved shirt over her head, sending dirt raining over the bathroom floor. The oiled up and muddy hair also caught inside the shirt, and her face wrinkled in disgust as she tossed the shirt to the ground and surveilled her surroundings.

“Where’s your broom?” he asked. “I’ll get all this swept up before it gets damp and turns back into mud. You get in the shower.”