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I agreed and Gabrielle began to prep my hands for the gel. By the time I was done, I was in awe of her skill. “They’re beautiful!” I complimented, fluttering my newly manicured fingers at her.
“They are, aren’t they?” she said with a proud smile, as she began to clean up her station.
Amelia leaned over my shoulder. “That color is perfect for you and the season. Are you ready for me to work on your hair now?”
I hadn’t had a haircut in forever. Between lacking time and the funds to get it done properly, I’d let the thick mass grow long and unruly. At this point, I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with it.
Fingering the long strands, I gave it a hard think but came up blank. “What would you recommend?”
Amelia was beautiful and sophisticated. Next to her, I felt frumpy and out of style. I’d agree to whatever she had in mind, as long as the upkeep wouldn’t be too expensive.
“Some honey-toned highlights would make your eyes pop,” Amelia stated after a moment of consideration. “Angel, what do you think?”
Angel was seated in one of the empty swivel chairs next to Amelia’s station. “Definitely. Evie has the most amazing eyes. Honey-colored highlights would only showcase them more.”
Uncomfortable with the compliments, I glanced down at my hands. “Whatever you think will look good.”
Amelia set to work mixing my color as Angel chatted about the upcoming party and all that we’d accomplished so far. “I’m so glad Bishop enlisted Evie’s help. I could never have done it without her.”
Amelia stopped dead in her tracks. “Bishop. My brother, who doesn’t ever bother himself with the planning of his own birthday parties, asked you to help?”
Angel grinned ear to ear. “Yup.”
Amelia’s face brightened with a smile all her own. “How do you know my brother?”
“I met Matty in prison, actually,” I nervously confessed.
Laughing, Amelia shook her head in utter shock. “My brother lets you call him, Matty? He threatened to start calling me Princess publicly if I ever used his childhood nickname in front of anyone ever again!”
“Oh,” I returned, slightly confused. “He told me he wanted me to call him that. Maybe I misunderstood.”
Setting down the bowl of excess product, Amelia sank into the seat opposite mine to wait for my color to develop. “Spill. I want to know where you met and what kind of magic you weave that has tamed my utter man-whore of a brother!”
I knew she was joking, but there was more than just a touch of truth to her words that made me think twice about talking. Especially since I didn’t know how Matty would feel about me gossiping about him. I mean, I know he said he liked me and all, but I was fairly certain he was just trying to get into my pants. Telling his family about “us” seemed way too forward a move. Especially when I knew there was never even going to be an “us” to discuss.
Figuring the subject of our meeting was public record though, I started at the beginning and explained about my volunteer work. A million questions later, I told her about how we’d freakishly bumped into each other again when Angel had asked me to cater his homecoming party.
Amelia clapped a perfectly manicured hand over her mouth. “You’re the girl in the kitchen!”
It took me a second to understand the claim. When I realized what she was saying, I turned beet red. “Um, yeah. I was there for most of the party. I’d meant to get out and socialize, but I guess I just got lost in my work.”
Noticing my discomfort, Amelia grabbed my hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I meant that Hawk told me that Bishop was distracted by a girl in the kitchen the night of his party when I wanted to give him his gift. It all makes sense now. He was keeping you company in the kitchen and didn’t want to hang out with the rest of us because he was having such a good time with you!”
That was definitely the nice way of putting it. “I told him to go back to the party. He wouldn’t listen.”
Amelia giggled. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. Bishop was always a sucker for a pretty face and nice behind.”
Her flattering words made me turn a darker shade of red. “I don’t know about that. I think he just feels connected to me because of the time we spent together in Cantiville. It’s not the nicest place. The men there are lonely and grateful for any reminder of home.”
A storm cloud breezed over Amelia’s sunny face then and I immediately regretted my words. “He has been different ever since he’s come back home. He tries to act like his old, lighthearted self, but it just isn’t the same. I can only imagine what he went through in that hellhole. But I know, no matter how I try, he’s not going to talk about it. He’s going to do the man thing and secretly let it eat away at him before he’ll ever say a single word about his experience there.”
“I’m familiar with that behavior,” Angel said. “Reaper does something eerily similar. I usually get it out of him by offering something he wants. That usually ends with me on my back and my legs spread wide. It must be a biker thing!”
Amelia laughed with gusto. “For sure!”
In an attempt to lighten the mood, I asked, “Do you think I should cut my hair? I’m not sure what style would look best. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything with it that I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
Amelia opened up Pinterest and we got to work narrowing down ideas. We settled on cutting off a few inches and framing my face with some well-placed angles. Nothing extreme, but the final product was lovely.
