Marrying Money

She nodded.

“Are you open for business?”

This time Bailey sighed. She knew she had no choice but to do what he wanted. Because if she told him she wasn’t open and one of her regulars came by to get rid of her day-old curls from the celebration, Bailey wouldn’t be able to take her in. At this point, with a huge business loan and customers not quite sure if they wanted to be loyal to the shop or try their luck somewhere else, Bailey couldn’t afford to offend anyone.

“I’m open.”

“Okay, then. I want my hair trimmed.”

She directed Tanner to sit on her salon chair, and pulled out the big black cape she used to cover the clothes of customers. She draped it over his white polo shirt and jeans. “I see you went home and changed after church, like I did.”

“Is that where you went?” he asked casually, but from the looks he had given her all through the service Bailey knew he had been planning to chat with her and undoubtedly she irritated him by speeding off.

“To change and to have lunch with my family,” she explained, occupied now with selecting scissors.

“That’s nice. You must be close to your family,” he said. He sounded truly interested, but Bailey didn’t think it was prudent to get into a personal discussion with him. No sense in encouraging him when they didn’t have a future together. He wasn’t staying in Wilmore, and even if by some miracle he fell madly in love with her, she was tied to the town by a big loan. He could not carry her off on his white horse. No one could. She was stuck here.

She brushed her fingers through the back of his already-short hair and was surprised by how silky it was. “Your hair doesn’t really need to be trimmed, you know.”

“Sure it does,” he insisted.

“Okay,” she said, combing her nails through the short, satiny locks again. She had cut enough hair in her lifetime that she thought she had felt all possible combinations of textures and naps, but there was something unsettlingly different about Tanner’s hair. It tingled against her fingertips and palm, as if it were alive.

She cleared her throat. “I’m only taking off about an eighth of an inch.”

“That’s good. That’s about how much I figure has been getting in the way when I blow dry.”

The very absurdity of that statement made her laugh again. “Stop that,” she said, but she sounded like a silly schoolgirl flirting with the star athlete.

“Why? Don’t you like to laugh?”

“I love to laugh, but if you’re smart you won’t want the person who has scissors to your head to get a case of the giggles. I could ruin your hair.”

“It would grow back.”

She drew in a resigned breath. “Do you always have an answer for everything?”

“Yes,” he said, quickly, concisely. He was so serious about it that he caught her wrist to prevent her scissors from reaching his hair, and he turned on the chair to face her. “Yes, I have an answer for everything, so if you would just tell me why you keep avoiding me I could probably resolve the issue in your mind and we could have a good time while I’m here in Wilmore.”

“Oh, I see,” she said. She wiggled her wrist from his grasp, set her scissors on the counter and untied the smock he wore to protect his clothes from the hair she would have cut, if she had cut any. “That’s what this is all about. You don’t like rejection.”

“I take rejection just fine. I not only started a new business, I ran it for eight years. I know all about rejection. And this has nothing to do with rejection. I like you.”

“We haven’t even had a twenty-minute conversation,” Bailey said, leaning against her counter and crossing her arms on her chest. “How can you say you like me? You don’t even know me.”

“And you don’t know me enough to keep blowing me off like this,” Tanner countered with a smile. “So have dinner with me tonight. We’ll get to know each other and then we can make an informed decision.”

Bailey shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Tanner asked, sounding totally confused.

She would have told him there was no future for them and, therefore, no point in their going out, but before the words clearly formed in her brain, her shop door opened.

“Hi, Bailey,” Norma Alexander greeted, then she saw Tanner. “Oops! Sorry!” she said, her eyes wide and round with surprise. “I thought you were open for business.”

“I am open for business. Tanner was just leaving.”

“Actually, Norma,” Tanner said, pulling out all his charm and pouring it on poor unsuspecting Norma through his warm, sincere voice, broad smile and earnest eyes. “I could use about another five minutes with Bailey. If you wouldn’t mind…”

“She minds!” Bailey said, grabbing Norma’s arm to guide her into the shop. “For Pete’s sake, Tanner. I’m trying to make a living here.”

“Okay, then, you asked for this,” Tanner said, his eyes narrowing as if he had calculated this risk and decided to take it. “I want to have dinner with you tonight, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Norma’s eyes lit up and she said, “Oh!” as if she had been witness to an historic event.

Bailey shook her head, refusing him in spite of his declaration that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “No.”

“Give me one good reason.”

“I have a committee meeting.”

“I thought the whole purpose of that dinner dance last night was to celebrate that the flood cleanup was over. You shouldn’t be having meetings anymore.”

“You forgot the revitalization committee, the one your mother said you couldn’t join because you’re leaving town.”

He sighed. “No, I haven’t forgotten.”

“We’re meeting tonight.”

“What kind of committee meets on a Sunday night?” he asked.

Obviously exasperated, he took a few steps in her direction, as if being closer could somehow sway things in his favor. When he got to within a foot of her and her pulse began to scramble, her breathing felt heavy and the blood virtually tingled through her veins, Bailey recognized he was right. Since his nearness endangered her sanity, there was a very real possibility that she would agree to anything he wanted…right before she melted into a puddle at his feet.

Playing with the locket at her neck, she looked him in the eyes and didn’t say anything until she had mustered her most firm, most authoritative voice. What came out was more like a squeak, but at least she was still standing.

“The kind with a lot of busy people on it.”

Apparently sensing victory because of her shaky voice, he smiled. “Tomorrow night, then?”

“Shop’s open Monday nights.”

“Tuesday?”

“It’s hot wing night at my dad’s bar.”

“Great. I’ll see you there.”

“All you’ll do is see me because I waitress. I won’t have time to stop and chat.”