Page 5 of My Girlfriend is Not the Father

‘Have you ever coloured yours?’

Lucy tucked a lock behind her ear. ‘No. I mean, not really. I tried highlights a few years ago. But really, I’m about as boring as they come.’

Nothing about this woman was boring. Something tugged at Jade not to end the conversation. Maybe because it was the first non-client and non-family conversation she’d had in a year? Maybe because she needed a distraction from what was happening at work? Whatever the reason, it felt … nice.

‘Well’ – Lucy waved at the mustard and ketchup behind Jade – ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt you and whatever street fight was about to happen with the sauces.’

‘Ugh. My angry face. Sorry. They’re out of sriracha for the second day in a row. And how’s a girl supposed to eat her eggs, you know?’

Lucy grimaced. ‘You put sriracha on your eggs?’

‘You don’t?’

Lucy shook her head. ‘Born and bred central Minnesotan here.’ She stuffed the wallet under her arm. ‘Pretty sure I don’t use sriracha on anything.’

Okay – her giggle, a little high-pitched and nasal, was adorable. Jade needed to jet the hell out of here before they chatted any longer. She had a life plan – a very long, thought-out, therapy-guided life plan – which did not include talking to a cute, charming stranger. She had learned her lesson, hard. ‘In Chicago, I used it on everything. Eggs, veggies, pizza.’

Okay, maybe just a few more minutes …

‘Chicago, huh? What brings you to Minnesota?’

Running away from my past, seeking an unattainable new future, burying my memories in a different state. ‘I opened a salon.’

Lucy lifted a brow. ‘Oh really? Which one?’

‘Jade’s on 7th.’ She pointed at the store entrance like there was an open window but quickly dropped her hand.

‘Are you Jade?’

‘Yep.’

Lucy shuffled her weight between her feet. ‘Your place is the one by the bubble tea shop?’

Jade nodded.

‘I should stop by.’ Lucy tugged at the bottom of her strands. ‘I haven’t cut my hair in over a year.’

Jade slapped her hand against her heart. ‘Nails on a chalkboard, saying that to a stylist.’

‘Is it better or worse than scraping a fork on glass?’

‘What sort of sociopath are you?’ Jade’s smartwatch timer beeped. Dammit. But also, probably saved by the bell. ‘Speaking of hairstyling … I have a perm to do. I should head back to the salon.’

‘Head back to the salon.’ Lucy tapped her wallet against her thigh, a smirk rising. ‘Is that a play on words?’

Jade chuckled. ‘No, but it should be.’

‘People still do perms?’

‘You’d be surprised.’ Jade grabbed a wasabi-based seasoning that would do in a pinch and set it in the basket. ‘Well, Lucy Sunshine Green. It was nice to meet you.’ Jade wanted to tell her this was the best convo she’d had in a long time and ask for her number. Which would be ridiculous, of course. Chicago-gate was barely eighteen months old.

No, she was tired. Overworked. A tad horny. That was all.

‘You too, Jade’s on 7th.’ Lucy inched back. ‘Thanks again, seriously. You’ve restored my faith in humanity.’

‘Don’t give me that much credit. I might trip a toddler on the way out just for fun.’ Jade winked.

A wink. Really? What in the hell am I doing?