Summer Burns Page 6

  "Short. Tight on the sides."

  She nodded and ran her hands through the hair on the sides, just like Emma did. Probably where the little girl learned it. "How long has it been since you have a haircut?"

  "Too long."

  "I guess so." She picked up her clippers and started running it over his head. "I saw Emma hugging you. Sorry about that, she's still asking when she can see her Mister Maffew."

  He smirked. "So she said."

  "I also noticed that you met my mother-in-law." She ran her clippers along the sides.

  "She did not seem very happy to meet me," he said. And that was putting it mildly.

  "I don't know what her deal is this week. She gets funny about stuff when it comes to Emma and Jake. She's barely said a word to me since we got into a fight last weekend."

  "About?"

  She waved her hand. "Nothing important, really. She thinks I'm exposing Emma to bad people or something." She put her clippers down and got a comb.

  "How?"

  "I don't want to get into it now," she said. "Maybe privately sometime."

  He nodded.

  She ran her hands through his hair as she cut the top and he felt the sensation all the way down.

  In all the good ways.

  Not like the base barber shops--thank God.

  "When?" he asked, grimacing how deep his voice went.

  If she noticed, she didn't acknowledge it. "When what?"

  He sighed, hoping to not sound so damn stupid before speaking again. "When do you want to discuss it privately?"

  She grinned, but it was obvious the words caught her off-guard. "Oh, that. Um. Well, I don't know. When are you thinking?"

  "What about Friday?" His fist clenched in his lap--wasn't it Fridays she said she didn't have Emma?

  "Um, sure, I guess. You wanna have dinner or something?"

  "Okay."

  She got out her little clippers and cleaned up his neck line. "Okay. Call me with the details."

  "Sure."

  She flicked off the cape. "I think you're done, sir."

  "Thank you," he said, and handed her the token. "What are these for, anyway?"

  "The pledges." She took the coin and shoved it in a cup behind her. "We're tracking how many haircuts each of us do--some people pledged so much money a haircut."

  He stood from the chair. "I see." Yet he couldn't seem to make his feet move just yet. Instead, he stood there in front of her for a minute.

  "It's supposed to raise more money for the school. This is our first year doing it, so we'll find out."

  "Uh huh."

  Silence spread between them. It felt awkward to him, but he wasn't sure what he should do to fix it.

  "Well good luck," he finally made himself say.

  "Thanks." She smiled, this time, almost a little shyly. "See you later, okay, Matthew?"

  "Yeah."

  He walked away from her chair, waiting off to the side for his two friends to get done with their haircuts.

  Miller came over first, his hair much neater than it was when they came in. "So who's the blonde?" he asked, nodding toward Summer.

  "That's above your pay grade," he said.

  Miller smirked. "Well, she's pretty."

  "She's not available."

  "Because she's yours?" Miller asked.

  He glared at Miller. "Because she's a widow."

  Miller nodded very slowly, understanding creeping over his expression. "Who's her husband?"

  "Bettes."

  "Don't know him."

  "Good man," Hennessey said as Ortiz came over, with a piece of paper in his hand.

  "You got a phone number?" Miller asked.

  Ortiz grinned. "From the redhead at the table."

  Hennessey rolled his eyes. "Let's go."

  Chapter Nine

  Friday night

  "Okay, so I'm a little nuts," I muttered to myself as I sprayed dry-shampoo on my hair, trying not to cough. The asthma was strong today--lots of hairspray flying at the salon.

  Still, I had to do something to my hair, even if my lungs were not liking the fumes. Audra managed to squeeze me in for some highlights, and while they're gorgeous, she put so much product in my hair, it was as stiff as a board.

  If this didn't break down some of the product, I'd have to wash it out and start over.

  I glanced at my watch. "Maybe."

  "Hurry up in there, Summer! I gotta pee!" Autumn hammered on the door.

  Mom's house was great, aside from the single bathroom. Okay, not so great, because my sister was still here, but hey, what can I do about it?

  Well, aside from the obvious, anyway.

  I jerked open the door. "Fine," I said. "Be quick, because I gotta get ready."

  Autumn pushed past me as she came inside. I barely made it out before she started attending to her business.

  Mom came down the hall, her dress clattered with the tiny little beads sewn into the flowing fabric. Today she could have walked out of a photo shoot about hippies being the new green.

  She looked me up and down. "Where are you going, Summer?"

  Emma was at my mother-in-law's house tonight, and while she still wasn't my favorite person right now--I got another little comment made about my possible existence of a social life--I didn't want to mess up Emma's routine.

  "I told you, Mom, I have a date."

  She blinked. "I thought we'd have a girl's night tonight. Winter's even coming over."

  I paused. "Uh, you didn't tell me about this." Great. Guilt.

  "Yes I did."

  "No, you didn't."

  "Yes she did, I was right there," Autumn called through the door. "She told you when you were taking care of that old woman at the shop today, the one with the walker?"

  "Thank you, Autumn," Mom replied.

  I was starting to think my mother and sister were ganging up on me. "Well, I made my date on Wednesday. So it came first." And frankly, I was kind of excited to go.

  Maybe.

  Sort of. Okay, so more than sort of. But it wasn't a date was it? We were just going to have some fun.

  Yeah.

  That's what I'm telling myself.

  The toilet flushed from inside the bathroom and then the door popped open. "I didn't think you were dating, your Facebook status still lists you as married." Autumn waved her phone at me.

  "It's one date. And I'm not committing to more than that--wait. Did you take your phone to the bathroom with you?"

  "Well yeah," Autumn said.

  I blinked. "That's just a bit too plugged in for me." Come to think of it, I wasn't sure I knew where my phone was.

  Mom stepped between us. "Well, I'm happy that you're getting out, Summer. You need to do something that's not just hanging around the house."

  "You were just upset that she wasn't going to be here for the family thing. Now you want her to go?" Autumn whined.

  I glanced at my sister. "How old are you?"

  She blinked and stared at me. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, you're whining like Emma, so I was just checking."

  "Summer, really, that wasn't necessary," Mom said.

  I shrugged. "She was. Just like she did when she was a kid." I grabbed my makeup bag from the bathroom and went into my room. At least in there, I had a lock.

  "I love my family. I love my family. I love my family," I whispered to myself as I started putting on my makeup. They drove me nuts--Autumn especially--but they were my family and I did love them.

  My chest started getting tight, and I picked up my inhaler and took a hit. Instantly the medicine started opening things up, and I began to relax.

  Everything was going to be great. It was.

  I heard the familiar chime of my cell phone--it must be in here somewhere. After five minutes of stumbling around my room looking for it, I finally read the response.

  On my way -- Hennessey

  I smiled. "So how am I going to remember to call you by your first name, if you sign your text
s with your last?" I muttered more to myself.

  It amused me.

  What can I say, I'm a dork.

  I just sent a reply when I heard tires in the driveway. I finished powdering my nose, ran my hands over my hair, because I didn't have time to start over now, even though resembling that psychic from Long Island was not on the top of my list of style-looks.

  I ran to the door, because I didn't really want my sister or my mother to answer.

  As I reached it, I wondered why I was so panicked about my family answering the door. It's not like he doesn't know I live with my mother.

  So when I flung the door open, and realized it wasn't even my date, I felt extra stupid.

  "Hi Winter," I said to my eldest sister.

  My sister, the one who always looks put together and organized, stood at the door in yoga pants, a tank top, and a sheen of sweat was on her brow.

  "Just get done at the gym?"

  "I had to get my Pilates in."

  I nodded. "Because you're so damn fat," I said as I stepped to the side. She was by far the thinnest of all three of us. And the tallest.

  "I am. I can pinch a whole inch on my hip."

  I rolled my eyes. "Stop it. I hate you."

  She put her hands on her hips. "You know, you'd feel so much better if you'd go with me. Three months, Summer. You'd feel like a new woman."

  "If I tried Pilates, my body would crumple under the pressure."

  "Only the first week," Winter said with a wink, and walked into the house. "Mom, did you get any wine?"

  "No, was I supposed to?"

  "Doesn't matter. I brought some," Winter replied. I noticed that her gym bag looked awfully heavy. She started pulling out bottles and setting them on the kitchen table.

  "Good grief," I muttered when I realized she'd pulled out four bottles. "You do know we all have to work tomorrow."

  "Two are for tonight. Two for tomorrow," Winter said with a shrug. "Besides, they're moscotto. It doesn't get you drunk like a burgundy does."

  "Oh that's not true. I'm always hung over after I drink moscotto," Autumn said as she came into the kitchen.

  And so the wine debate began.

  Headlights flashed over the front window, and I darted back to the door. Sure enough, Hennessey climbed out of his car and started walking toward the front door.

  Since everyone was occupied, I decided to get going while I had the chance. Hennessey was about halfway up the walk when I came out. Not dressed in fatigues--it was the first time I'd seen him in civilian clothing.

  And man, did he cut a good silhouette. Broad chest, tapered waist. Not too thin, not too thick. All in all, he looked pretty darn good.

  "Hey," I said, pulling the door shut.

  "Sneaking out so I don't have to talk to your mom?" he asked, grinning.

  "Trust me, it's better this way. The whole damn family's in there." I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder.

  "Do you have a curfew?"

  I laughed. "With the amount of wine in there tonight, I doubt anyone would remember if I did."

  He smirked as he put his hand on my elbow and walked me to the car. "You look very pretty," he said as he opened the car door.

  "You do too," I said. And realized what I'd actually said. "Oh geez, I mean, uh. You look nice."

  He grinned. "Thank you." He closed the door and walked around the car.

  I tried not to fidget while he got in and got situated.

  Though it wasn't working, at least, not as well as I wanted, because he totally called me out on it.

  "Nervous?"

  "Yeah. First date since..."

  "I figured." He grimaced, and suddenly I felt really stupid for even mentioning Jake. Gah. Here was a guy, wanting to take me out, who'd served with him, and wanted to pay his respects, and, and...

  Ugh. I'm an idiot.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it. I'm just... I'm nervous. But I'm not. But I am."

  "Truth be told," he said, stroking his car keys, "I am too."

  "Really?"

  He nodded. "I haven't been on a real date in quite a while."

  I rested my elbow on the window. "So what are we going to do on this date then?"

  "Is there still a mini-golf place in town?"

  I grinned. "Yes there is. Over on Fourteenth street."

  "Perfect."

  Yep. I was thinking it sounded pretty perfect too.

  ~*~

  "Oh my God, did you see that? I was right there!" I said, waving my arm. My golf ball just skirted the hole, and darted across the green.

  "I see a gal who just lost the round."

  I stuck my tongue out at Hennessey.

  He laughed. And what a great sound it was. He'd been doing it all night, in between the smart-assed remarks that had me laughing all night as well.

  At first, he'd been very quiet and reserved.

  But as the evening progressed, he relaxed.

  And maybe because he did, so did I. I mean, I was making this out to be so many things in my head that I didn't know what I was doing. I'd waffle between the whole "dating" thing and "just friends having fun" thing and I was making myself nutty.

  Being here, right now with him, it's more about the having fun than anything else, which is what I needed.

  Two grown-ups just having fun. I wasn't going to make it into more than that.

  We went to the next hole--the last one--and it was a wind mill.

  "Okay, this will not be fun," I muttered as I walked up to the tee box.

  "Whatcha doin' there, Summer?" Matthew asked.

  "Getting ready to make my shot."

  He raised his eyebrow. "And who, exactly, won the last hole?" We'd been playing that winner got the first shot on the next hole. That loosely translated into Matthew getting to shoot first every single time, because I am no golfer.

  I rolled my eyes. "You did."

  "So I get to go first," he said, and playfully hip-checked me out of the way.

  I stepped back and watched him line up his shot. "Be careful, that windmill looks pretty darn mean."

  He glanced back at me. "I have timing."

  "Uh huh," I said.

  He said nothing and hit his ball.

  And naturally, it went right between the windmill's arms and through the hole, popping out on the green below us, lined up perfectly to roll right into...

  "You have got to be kidding me," I said as his ball fell into the hole, giving him his tenth hole-in-one for the night.

  He grinned at me, that super smug look he'd had all night. "You going to take your shot?"

  "Don't know why I bother," I said.

  "It's just about lining up the shot." He stepped out of the way as I took my place. He happened to be fairly close to me, and for a moment, I didn't mind the intimacy.

  Not that it meant anything.

  Because it didn't.

  Right?

  "Uh huh," I said as I lined up my shot. It wasn't that I couldn't hit a mostly-straight shot, it was more the timing of the windmill arms swinging in front of the hole that would block my shot.

  I watched, and waited for what I thought was the perfect amount of time, but sure enough, when I thought I'd timed it just right, the swinging arm came down and blocked my ball from going into the windmill.

  "Ugh," I moaned.

  Matthew picked up my ball and brought it back to me. "It's all about timing, hon. That's it."

  I raised my eyebrow, not saying a word about him calling me 'hon.' Because lots of guys said stuff like that.

  It didn't make my heart patter at all.

  Nope.

  No way.

  I studied the texture of the fake grass as he handed me my ball, because I didn't want him to see that very likely, my cheeks were the same pink as the golf ball.

  "Let me help you." His voice was deeper. Or maybe I just thought it sounded more intense in the moment.

  I was probably just overthinking it.

  "Uh," I muttered as he stepped
behind me.

  His arms wrapped around me, and I could smell all those nice manly smells, and wait. Was he wearing cologne? Some nice woodsy, musky stuff.

  Guy smell.

  A smell I hadn't really smelled in a long time--when one doesn't count the guys who come in with way too much cologne on at the beauty shop. This was nice.

  Warm and inviting.

  "It's about the timing," he said, his cheek right next to my ear, and his breath was warm. "Watch the windmill."

  I turned to look, mesmerized by his voice and the close contact. It had been a very long time since I'd felt a man's arms around me like this.

  Even if it was for mini golf.

  And I felt kind of stupid for the warring emotions inside over it.

  "One, two, three, four." He counted, what, I wasn't sure. But he kept doing it in my ear, and I think he was counting the time of the windmill arms.

  I don't know.

  I didn't really care.

  He guided my arms back, still whispering the count in my ear, and together we hit the ball. I watched it roll down the green and slide between the windmill arms, and right into the hole.

  Just like it was supposed to.

  And sure enough, just like his did, it popped out on the other side, and fell right into the winning cup.

  "See, it's just timing." He still had an arm around me.

  And I didn't care, either. "I guess so," I said, still sort of tingly from the way he'd been holding me.

  He ran his hand over my shoulder before letting go. "You can do it."

  "Uh huh."

  "Now we're tied," he said. His gaze held mine, and I wondered if I wasn't the only person noticing the physical contact.

  And my first impulse was to run away. I didn't actually run, I just stepped down toward the lower green.

  But it was enough to break the sudden, grown-up attention between us.

  "I'm pretty sure you won, because both those shots were all you."

  "Are you complaining?" he asked, still standing on the upper green, and making him look even taller.

  I shook my head.

  Nope. I wasn't complaining at all.

  Chapter Ten