Prima Donna (20 page)

It took a while to arrange Linnea’s hair the way they’d practiced, but with a little patience and a whole lot of product, she was finally done and ready to give up the chair to the waiting bride.

“How are we doing for time?” Regan asked as she fastened the cape around Andrea’s shoulders.

“Good.” Andrea’s round face beamed. “So long as you have me out of here in the next hour and a half, it’ll be fine.”

“No problem.” Regan chugged the last of her rapidly cooling coffee and set to work on the girl’s hair until every kink was tamed, and every loose strand carefully set in a smooth gentle curl.

By the time she was done, the whole wedding party was in tears.

“You’re so beautiful,” Linnea cried. “Look at you!”

Andrea beamed, tipping her head first one way then the other to get a look through all the mirrored angles. “Thank you, Regan, it’s…”

“My pleasure.” It
had
been a pleasure, too. Sure, it might have been a little worrisome trying to keep the five of them on track and making sure everyone was done on time, but seeing Andrea’s face now, so happy, so radiant, it had all been worth it. “Now you guys need to get going because by the looks of it, you all need to redo your makeup before you get dressed.”

She helped Andrea into her coat, then walked them all to the side door. Linnea hung back a little, taking a few seconds to get her coat done up, but once the rest were out the door, she pressed a wad of cash into Regan’s hand.

“Andrea’s already paid me,” she said, but Linnea shushed her.

“Just take it,” she said quietly. “Anyone who can make my baby that happy with the head of hair she has deserves a hell of a lot more than what you’re charging.”

They shared a smile, then Linnea disappeared out the door, leaving Regan alone in the quiet of the garage again. She’d love to sit down for a while, but she still had to clean up and get to her other appointments this afternoon. It would be so great to have a space like this for her own again. With a few added windows, she’d set up her chairs facing the north wall, the dryers could go over there and then there would be enough space for someone to come in and do aesthetics.

Oh, well. Another month or two at the clinic and maybe Jeff Goodson would be more willing to talk to her about a mortgage.

With everything packed up and Duke taken care of, she grabbed coffees and scones from the bakery and headed to Maya’s shop to say hi before her next appointment. The door whooshed open before she could reach the handle.

“Hey, Regan.”

“Leon—hi. How are you?”

He towered over her as he held the door, giving her room to duck under his arm. He cast a quick glance inside, then grinned slowly.

“I’m great. You?”

“Fine, thanks.” Had he smiled like that at Jayne’s party? Nope, she didn’t think so, which meant…

“I gotta run,” he said. “But it was good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too.” Regan didn’t wait for the door to close behind him, she just marched straight to the counter and plopped the tray of coffees down. “Spill it.”

Her friend’s face flushed slightly, then she just shrugged and laughed. “Okay, so maybe not every teacher’s a dickhead.”

“Shocking.” Regan slid one of the cups toward Maya and laughed. “So how long’s this been going on?”

“He came in a couple weeks ago to order flowers for his sister.” Maya’s shoulder lifted again, but her smile never wavered. “Turns out he’s a nice guy.”

“Well, whodathunk?”

Maya’s hand shook slightly as she peeled the lid off her cup. “We’re going out for dinner tonight.”

“Good for you! Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.” She wrapped both hands around the cup and exhaled a shaky breath. “God, Reg, it’s been almost five years since I went on a first date. What do I say? How do I act?”

“Who needs to act?” Regan took her coffee around the counter and began to sweep cuttings into the half-full pail. “If that smile on his face is indication, he’s happy with the Maya he’s already met.”

“Yeah, but…stop cleaning…what if we get there and halfway through our salads he realizes how boring I really am?”

“You’re a lot of things, Maya, but boring’s not one of them.” She wound two spools of ribbon and set them on their pegs, then slipped the scissors back into the slot at the back of the counter.

“Stop cleaning,” Maya repeated. “What should I wear?”

“That’s easy. Go see Ellie—she’ll know exactly what you need.” She lifted a few random fern pieces off the counter and handed them to Maya, who made no move to put them away, just stared as she waved them idly under her nose.

“Oh,” she said, looking up. “How did it go with Andrea this morning?”

“Great. Got them all in and out in plenty of time.” She spun the dangling cellophane back onto its roll, then turned to face Maya. “If I could get a place with a garage like that, I’d be set.”

Maya’s eyes widened, but she didn’t hesitate for a second. “So start looking.”

“I have,” she said. “I surf the online listings all the time, but everything I see is too big for just one person.”

“So get a roommate.”

Regan crossed her arms, tipped her head a little, and leaned her hip against the counter, waiting.

“Oh no,” Maya gaped. “No way.”

“Why not? You’re living in the tiny little apartment over Jayne’s store, and in a house you’d have all sorts of room.”

“Sorry, Reg, I love you, but no. I went from my parents’ house to living with my sister to being married. This is the first time I’ve ever lived on my own, and I gotta tell you—I like it.”

Sure, she liked it now, but a few years of going home to an empty apartment and eating microwaved soup because there’s no point in making a big meal for one person…not so much fun.

“Besides,” Maya went on. “You and I would kill each other. You can’t stand things being out of place, and I…well…look around.”

Regan didn’t have to look; she knew. Maya thrived in chaos that would drive Regan around the bend in about five minutes.

“Yeah, okay, you have a point. Maybe Ellie—” They both burst out laughing before she finished the sentence. “Forget it.”

Halfway through a swallow of coffee, Maya’s eyes widened. “So who was the rose from?”

Regan didn’t hesitate, didn’t so much as blink. “There was no name.”

Not a lie.

“That’s weird. What did the card say?”

A slow shrug, mainly to hide the way her shoulder wanted to twitch. “Just your standard Valentine’s greeting.”

Little bit of a lie.

“Really?” Maya frowned. “Do you have any idea who it might be from?”

“Nope, not a clue.”

Complete and total going-to-Hell-i
n-a-handcart lie.

“Hmm. Well, that’s disappointing.”

“Why do you say that?” Regan rinsed a cloth in the sink and started wiping down the countertop.

“
Because
…wait…didn’t you Google the rose like I told you to?” Maya rolled her eyes when Regan winced. “Generally speaking, there are two ways people buy roses. They either stick with red because it’s traditional, or they go with a different color because it’s pretty or they happen to like that color.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, nothing. Each color symbolizes something, and coral roses symbolize desire and happiness.” She quirked her left brow at Regan as though waiting for some kind of response, but all Regan could do was rewipe the already clean counter. “That, coupled with the fact it was a single rose, which in my opinion is about as sexy as it gets, I was all like,
‘Yeah, baby, go Reggie’ 
”

Regan swallowed hard, thankful for the clump of glue needing her attention.

“But I guess if the greeting wasn’t anything special, then he only picked that color because he liked it.” She shrugged indifferently and followed it up with a sigh. “I keep hoping there are still people out there who believe in this kind of stuff, in the romance of giving flowers, but I guess it’s like everything else nowadays; people are too busy to put any real thought into it, they just figure any old flower will do.”

“Y-yeah,” Regan muttered, forcing herself to blink, breathe, and to exhale a harsh chuckle. “Except for Nick—he always gets Jayne dandelions.”

“Again,” Maya grunted. “Not flowers. Weeds.”

“I know, but it’s still romantic.”

“I guess.” A slow smile spread across Maya’s face. After a second, she tucked the fern pieces back in the vase with the rest of them and chuckled. “Romantic or not, it’s still weird.”

“No argument there.” Regan rinsed the cloth again and tried desperately to come up with something else to talk about; anything but Valentine’s Day would do at this point, so why couldn’t she come up with something that didn’t involve romance or flowers? Or Carter?

Everything she wanted to talk about started with him, so it was best to keep her mouth shut tight until she could get past that. Luckily she was helped out by Ellie, who pushed through the door right then.

“Her ears must’ve been burning,” Regan chuckled quietly, then they both spoke at the same time. “Hey, Ellie.”

“I was just going to grab a coffee and thought I’d see if you—” She stopped talking when Maya lifted her cup.

“Thanks anyway.”

“Sorry,” Regan said, fighting back a smirk. “I’ve got a three o’clock I need to get to, but Maya’s having a minor wardrobe crisis, Ellie. Help her out, will you?”

With a smile and a wave, she ducked out the door as Maya filled Ellie in on her date details, and headed out to start the six hours of appointments she had lined up.

By the time she finally pulled her car into Jayne’s garage that night, she should have been tired, should have gone straight to bed, especially with a cut and color booked for first thing the next morning. But she was restless, twitchy.

Had Carter sent her that particular rose because he liked the color? Or maybe he thought she’d like the color? He certainly wasn’t the type of guy who studied symbolism in flowers, so what else could it be?

Duke refused to go out for a walk, so Regan wandered aimlessly between the living room and the kitchen. She wiped down the counters and sink, even though they were already clean, fluffed the cushions on the couch, then went out to the garage and leaned against her car, staring at the space for a long time before finally going back inside and flopping down on the couch.

Surely to God there must be something on TV that would bore her into sleep.

When the third infomercial started, she shut it off and went to get ready for bed, but not before lifting her rose up for a long inhale of its rich, sweet aroma. The hallway led past the spare room they’d never furnished, the storage room full of Christmas decorations, Nick’s work stuff and boxes of books Jayne had yet to sort for the store, then to the bathroom.

When she was finished, she stepped out into the hall and hesitated, staring toward the last door past the bathroom.

Carter’s room.

Blowing out a slow breath, Regan turned to go, then stopped. Jayne would want to know why Regan chose to spend the weekend sleeping on the couch instead of in a perfectly good bed. What reason could she possibly give that wasn’t completely lame?

None, because the only explanation was pathetic. In the last six weeks she’d come to understand why so many women wanted to be with Carter, even if it was only temporarily, and there was no question anything with him would be temporary. Short, sweet, and unbelievable, yet long enough to not only get herself fired, but to mess up her friendship with Jayne, which would then ripple out to Maya and Ellie, too.

So no matter how much Girlie Regan whined, she was just going to have to suck it up.

With a deep breath, Regan pushed the door open and stepped inside the room. She wasn’t about to sleep in there, she’d just make it look like she had.

The same box spring and mattress Nick had used prior to Jayne’s arrival was pushed up against the far wall; no bed frame, no headboard, just the mattresses covered in a thick green quilt with a brown-and-yellow crocheted blanket folded at the end. The only other piece of furniture was the three-drawer dresser on the side wall with a gooseneck lamp, a dog-eared Tom Clancy novel, and a medical journal from last fall.

Okay. All she needed to do was make it look like she’d slept there; no problem.

She moved the pillow up against the wall, shook out the blanket and refolded it differently, tugged the quilt down so it hung to the floor, and stacked the novel on top of the journal and pushed them both to the far side of the dresser. There.

Oh, wait. One more thing.

Regan pulled opened the top drawer of the dresser just enough to make it look like she’d used it and not closed it completely, then went straight for the closet. Oh yes, she was outdoing herself on this. She’d shuffle the hangers around a little and—

Oh boy.

There it was, the coveted Stan Smyl jersey.

Who in their right mind ever thought dark yellow with orange-and-black trim was a good look? Ugh…nasty. She lifted the hanger down and spun the ghastly thing around to get a better look, but once she touched it, weighed the fabric against her palm, and inhaled the scent she’d been trying so hard to forget…

Little bit of leather, little bit of musk, whole lotta Carter.