Texan for the Holidays

“I think you look great. I mean, better.”

“I’m getting used to it.” He bent a little to glance in the mirror, raking a hand through his hair before continuing. “I don’t look much like a corporate lawyer.”

No, he looked like the hunky doctor on the TV show about people stranded on an island, only he needed a few days’ worth of beard and a torn T-shirt. “That’s because you’re not a corporate lawyer anymore. You’re the Brody’s Crossing lawyer, apparently now specializing in controversial hairstyles.”

“You’re right.” He smiled at her, then paused before saying, “I realize that we got off to a bad start. Could I take you to dinner to make up for it?”

“Dinner?”

“The meal most of us eat at night.”

“I know what it means, but I thought I’m supposed to be the enemy. I’m not sure why you’d want to be seen with me in public.” She narrowed her eyes and watched him. “You are talking about a real restaurant, right? Not going to your apartment or your mother’s?”

“Dinner in public at Dewey’s, you and me, no mother. Why don’t I pick you up around six? And where are you staying?”

“Right here,” she said, pointing to the rear of the salon. “Back room sofa. Home sweet home.” Until she was no longer stranded in Texas.

Chapter Three

“So, tell me how you came to be stuck in Brody’s Crossing,” James asked once they’d been seated in a relatively quiet corner of Dewey’s. The high backs of the dark vinyl booth enfolded them and kept the country-and-western music from interfering with conversation.

Scarlett fiddled with her paper napkin and rearranged the flatware on the table, then said, “It’s simple. I was on my way to California, took a wrong turn in Dallas, ended up going a different way to the I-40, and then my aging Benz broke down.”

“How bad is it?”

“Claude pulled the engine and is getting estimates on parts, but he thinks it’s going to be bad. Real bad. Something about a cracked piston ring.”

“That does sound bad.”

“Honestly, I didn’t plan to spend all my money on that car. My parents gave it to me ten years ago.” She shrugged. “I guess I thought it would just keep going forever. I probably should have traded it in, but I never got around to it, and they kept telling me how safe it is.”

“So, what’s waiting for you in California?” Boyfriend? he wondered. She wasn’t wearing an engagement ring or anything similar. As a matter of fact, she wore lots of rings, but they all looked…casual. Like costume jewelry rather than serious jewels. Her manner of dress was also casual—very California.

“A great opportunity. I’m starting an internship in January at a very prestigious salon in L.A. Really, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

She seemed so excited about her new job, and granted, working in a prestigious salon seemed like a big goal. Scarlett—whatever her real name was—fairly radiated energy. “Sounds important for you to get there.”

“Yes, it is. I met Diego, the owner, at a hair show in Atlanta. We hit it off, basically because I knew all the great places to shop and people watch, which is his specialty. Anyway, we had a good time, he liked my work and he offered me an internship at his salon. You would not believe the client list! He does hair for some of the top movers and shakers in town.”

As James wondered why he was mildly jealous of the people-watching Diego, Twila, who was the cousin of his eleventh-grade girlfriend, came and took their drink orders. James had a beer, and instead of something sophisticated, urbane and expensive, Scarlett ordered a diet soft drink. “Tell me you’re old enough to drink,” he teased when the waitress left.

She laughed, a hearty, real laugh that warmed him. “Yes, I’ve been old enough for oh, about seven years now. I’m just not much of a drinker.”

“Twenty-eight is young.”

“And you’re what, ancient?”

He shrugged. “No, just feels that way sometimes. I’m thirty-three, divorced, and you know this is my hometown. My mother works for me part-time in my law office.”

“Working with a relative seems as if it could be a real disaster. You must have a good relationship.”

As he wondered if Scarlett was thinking of her own family, he fiddled with his knife and fork. “We do. She got bored sitting around what’s left of the family ranch. She and my dad sold off most of the acreage when he retired.”

“Ah, yes. The Brodys of Brody’s Crossing.”

“Well, that was in the late 1800s. My mother and father worked for a living. She’s a real people person. She and I both agreed that working for me would be good. However, sometimes she’s a little too enthusiastic about getting me clients.”

“I guess I should be glad you’re not anxious to pursue bad-hair grievances.”

“Well, that’s a boon for me, at least. I thought you might still be angry.”

“No, I got over that pretty quick. Besides, you’re buying me a meal. And offering something new to do. Believe me, sitting around the back room of the House of Style all night is not my idea of a rocking good time. Clarissa doesn’t even have a TV, and I’m really getting tired of easy listening, classic rock and country, country, country on the radio.”

That did sound pretty boring. “I’m glad I can be a diversion.”

“I didn’t mean that’s all you are,” she quickly added.

“I didn’t take it that way. I didn’t realize how ‘stuck’ you really are. I can’t imagine not having a car to get where you want to go.”

She nodded. “I need to find an apartment and get settled in L.A. before Christmas.”

“I know you want to go to California, but it must be hard being away from your family during the holidays.” How many people could give up Christmas in order to start over in a strange town? That had to be difficult. “Oh, not as much as you might expect,” she said, spreading her paper napkin on her lap. “I have a sister and a brother to fill in the gap, plus my sister-in-law is pregnant. And trust me, the parents are much happier to talk about the doctor, the accountant and the upcoming grandchild than they are talking about the ‘hairdresser.’”

“But they’re your family! Do you really think they’re disappointed in you?”

She shrugged. “I do. I’m a hairdresser—they can’t remember that I’m a stylist—in a perfect suburban family of overachievers. It’s not something they brag about.”

What could he say to that? James had a hard time imagining a family that wasn’t supportive, because his parents had always been loving, even when he’d done some rather stupid things in high school. Darn his best friend, Wyatt. That boy could have talked a saint into sinning! But when Wyatt had left for Stanford, James had gone to UT Austin and cleaned up his act to get into law school.

He understood goals, which Scarlett had, even if the goal wasn’t something her parents considered important.

“Do you like Atlanta?” he asked.

She shrugged again. “It’s okay. It’s kind of traditional, you know?”

James was saved from asking what was so wrong with tradition as Twila came to take their dinner orders. “What can I get you?” she asked.

Scarlett folded her menu. “I’ll have the meat loaf with mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and a salad with ranch. Oh, and two dinner rolls, please.”

James smiled, thinking of her petite figure and her big appetite. “I’ll have the sirloin, medium, baked potato, and a salad with blue cheese.” He looked at Scarlett. “Are you sure you don’t want a steak?”

“No, I have a real craving for meat loaf tonight.”

“Comfort food?”

She rearranged her knife and fork again. “Something like that.”

SCARLETT LEANED BACK against the leather seat of James’s sporty red SUV. She’d been surprised earlier that his vehicle was red, but hadn’t made any snappy remarks. She was trying to be on her best behavior, since the man had bought her a meal, and she was way too bored to go back to the salon early if she insulted him accidentally.