elaney combed her fingers through the back of Lanna’s damp hair and eyed her critically in the salon mirror. “What about if we cut it to here?” she asked, moving her hands to about ear level. “You have a short enough jaw line that you’d look really good in a short bob. I could bevel the back and you could flip it up.”

Lanna tilted her head to one side and studied her reflection. “What about bangs?”

“Your forehead is wide so you really don’t need bangs.”

Lanna took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Go for it.”

Delaney reached for her comb. “You don’t have to act like I’m going to be drilling on your teeth.”

“I haven’t had short hair since fourth grade.” Lanna slid her hand from beneath the silver cape and scratched her chin. “I don’t think Lonna’s ever had hers short.”

Delaney sectioned Lanna’s hair, then clipped it. “Really?” She picked up her scissors. “Is your sister still seeing Nick Allegrezza?” she asked as if she had no more than a passing interest.

“Yeah. She sees him off and on.”

“Oh.” Delaney hadn’t seen him in over two weeks, not since the night of Lisa’s wedding. Well, she’d seen him. She’d seen him across a crowded room at a Downtown Business Association meeting, and she’d seen him as she’d slid through a stop sign at the intersection of Main and First, nearly broadsiding his Jeep with Henry’s big Cadillac. She’d managed to hook a right, he a left. That same evening he left a message on her answering machine: “Get some damn snowtires,” he said, then hung up. She hadn’t seen him again until yesterday when he and Sophie had walked out the back door of his office as she’d been throwing trash in the Dumpster. He’d stopped by the driver’s side of his Jeep and looked at her, his eyes hot, touching her everywhere. And she’d stood there, the waste basket in her arms forgotten, stunned by the emotion twisting her stomach. “Uncle Nick,” Sophie had called to him, but he hadn’t answered. He hadn’t said anything. “Let’s go, Uncle Nick.” He glanced over his shoulder at his niece, then back to Delaney.

“I see you still don’t have snowtires.”

“Ah... no.” She stared into his eyes and felt her head get light and her stomach fuzzy.

“Come on, Uncle Nick.”

“Okay Sophie,” he’d said, his gaze moving over her one last time before he’d turned away.

“I don’t think Lonna has seen Nick for a few weeks,” Lanna said, breaking into Delaney’s thoughts. “At least I don’t think he’s called and wanted her to meet him somewhere. She would have told me if he had.”

Delaney cut a line along the nape of Lanna’s neck. “Do you two have that twin connection going on and tell each other everything?”

“We don’t tell each other everything. We do talk about the men we sleep with though. But she’s more promiscuous and has more interesting stories. She and Gail used to sit around and swap stories about Nick. Of course that was back when Gail still thought she had a chance of becoming Mrs. Allegrezza.”

Delaney reached for a duck clip and slowly combed out a section of hair. “She doesn’t think that anymore?”

“Not so much now, and she was so sure he’d move her in, but he never even invited her to spend the night.”

He hadn’t invited Delaney, either. At the time, she’d had no intention of actually spending the night with Nick. She knew how bad she looked every morning, and she’d had no intention of waking up with someone she suspected got out of bed looking like a cover model. But she didn’t want to be just another of his women, either. She’d let herself think that maybe she was special since he risked losing his Angel Beach and Silver Creek property to be with her. She remembered something else Lanna had told her once, too. Nick didn’t take women home with him, but he’d taken her. She’d hoped maybe she’d been different from the others, but he hadn’t even given her a call, so she guessed she wasn’t.

“Are you going to be in the Christmas fashion show?” Delaney asked her client. She just didn’t want to talk about Nick anymore.

“No, but I’m going to help the microbrewery build their ice sculpture for the Winter Festival.”

The subject of Nick was dropped, and they talked about where each of them had spent Thanksgiving. Delaney had gone to her mother’s, of course. Max had been there, and it was the first completely relaxed holiday she could remember. Well, almost completely relaxed. Her mother did try to drill her about the Christmas fashion show. She’d wanted to know what Delaney planned, starting with hair clips and ending with the style of shoes. Gwen recommended pumps. Delaney horrified her mother by mentioning hip boots even though she didn’t own a pair. Gwen suggested a “nice Anne Klein suit.” Delaney thought she might wear a “nice plastic cat suit,” which she did own but had outgrown since she’d been stuck in Truly. Max had stepped in and proposed he carve the turkey.

When Delaney was finished, Lanna liked her new cut so much she tipped her ten bucks. In Truly, that was a rare compliment. Once the salon was empty again, she swept up hair and checked her appointment book. She had a little less than an hour before her three-thirty cut and blow-dry. The appointment was with her second male client since she’d opened the salon, and she was a little apprehensive. Some men tended to think since she’d spent half an hour running her fingers through their hair, she’d naturally want to go for a drink at Motel 6 afterward. She never knew which client would interpret her job as a sexual advance. Marital status was never a factor. It was weird, but wasn’t uncommon.

While she waited, she counted products in the storeroom, telling herself she wasn’t listening for the sound of a certain black Jeep, but she was.

She counted shampoo towels and wrote out an order for several dozen more. She needed more finger waving solution, thanks to Wannetta, and just as she finished checking her inventory, the muted crunch of gravel reached her from the back lot. She stilled and listened until she heard it again. Before she could think about it, she grabbed a small trash can and slowly opened the back door.

Sophie stood by the front of the silver Cadillac, raising the windshield wiper with one hand. In the other she held a white envelope. She slid the envelope under the wiper blade, and Delaney didn’t have to see the typewritten note to know what it said.

“It’s you.”

Sophie spun around, her eyes huge, and lifted a hand to the chest of her blue parka. Her mouth fell open, then snapped shut. She looked as stunned as Delaney felt. Delaney didn’t know whether to thank her for not being a psycho stalker or scream at her for being a brat.

“I was just...just...” she stammered as she grabbed the envelope and shoved it in her pocket.

“I know what you were just doing. You were leaving me another warning.”

Sophie crossed her arms over her chest. She tried to look tough, but her face was only a few shades darker than the snow at her feet.

“Maybe I should go call your father.”

“He’s on his honeymoon,” she said instead of denying anything.

“Not forever. I’ll wait until he gets back.”

“Go ahead. He won’t believe you. He’s only nice to you because of Lisa.”

“Your Uncle Nick will believe me. He knows about the other two notes.”

Her arms fell to her sides. “You told him?” she cried as if Delaney was the person who’d done something wrong.

“Yep, and he’ll believe me.” She conveyed a certainty she didn’t at all feel. “He’s not going to like it when I tell him you’re the one leaving the threatening notes.”

Sophie shook her head. “You can’t tell him.”

“Tell me why you’ve been sneaking around trying to scare me, and I might not call Nick.”

Sophie stared at her for few long moments then took several steps backward. “Go ahead and call him then. I’ll just deny it.”

Delaney watched the girl disappear from the parking lot, then she turned and entered her salon. She couldn’t let Sophie get away with what she’d done, but the problem was, she didn’t know what to do about it. She had no experience with children, and she didn’t want to drop something like this on Lisa when she arrived back from her honeymoon. Also, she suspected Lisa might have her own problems with Sophie, and she didn’t want to add to them. That left Nick. She wondered if he’d believe her.

She was still wondering the next afternoon when Sophie walked into the salon at three-thirty. Delaney looked up from Mrs. Stokesberry’s wig and spotted the girl hovering near the front door. She’d clipped the sides of her thick hair into flower barrettes, and her dark eyes were huge in her small face. She looked like a scared little girl in a big puffy coat. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” she called to her, then turned her attention to her client. She fit the white wig on the older woman, then handed her a black helmet of hair stuck on a Styrofoam head. She gave Mrs. Stokesberry her senior citizen discount, then helped her out the door.

Delaney turned her attention to Sophie and waited for the girl to speak. After a moment of hesitation Sophie said, “You didn’t call Uncle Nick last night.”

“Maybe I did and you just don’t know yet.”

“You didn’t because I’m staying with him until Dad and Lisa get back.”

“You’re right. I didn’t call him.”

“Have you talked to him today?”

“No.”

“When are you going to?”

“I don’t know yet.”

A deep furrow settled between her brows. “Are you trying to torture me?”

Delaney hadn’t thought about the agony the thirteen-year-old must be going through waiting for the bomb to drop. “Yes.” She smiled. “You’re never going to know when or where I’m going to say something.”

“Okay, you win. I wanted to scare you so you’d leave town.” Sophie folded her arms over her chest and looked at a point somewhere behind Delaney’s head. “Sorry.”

She didn’t sound sorry. “Why’d you do it?”

“Because then my uncle would get everything that you always took from him. His father gave you everything and he had to wear holey jeans and T-shirts.”

Delaney didn’t remember Nick wearing anything holey. “I was Henry’s stepdaughter, do you think I should have gone naked because my mother married Nick’s father? Do you really think what Nick wore was my fault?”

“Well, if your mother hadn’t married Henry then—”

“Then he would have become a great dad?” Delaney interrupted. “He would have loved Nick and bought him anything he wanted? Married your grandmother?” She could see by the look on Sophie’s face that was exactly what she thought. “It wouldn’t have happened. Nick was ten when I moved to Truly, and in those ten years his father never acknowledged him. Never said one nice word.”

“He might have.”

“Yes, and monkeys might have flown out his butt, but the chances weren’t good.” She shook her head. “Take off your coat and come on back,” she ordered. She didn’t think she could look at Sophie’s split ends for another minute.

“Why?”

“I’m going to wash your hair.”

“I washed it this morning before school.”

“I’m also going to trim those dead ends for you.” Delaney stopped by the sink and stared toward the front of the salon. Sophie hadn’t budged. “I’m still not sure I shouldn’t call Nick and tell him about the notes you’ve been leaving.”

With her scowl back in place, the girl shrugged out of her coat and walked to the back. “I don’t want my hair cut. I like it long.”

“It’ll still be long. It just won’t look like a frayed rope.” Delaney used a mild shampoo and conditioner, then moved the girl to the salon chair. She combed and clipped, and if all that glorious dark hair had been attached to another head besides the girl frowning at her through the mirror, she might have been in stylist heaven. “You might not believe this, but your Uncle Nick doesn’t want what Henry left me in his will. And I certainly don’t want what he got.”

“Then why are you always hanging around him, dancing and kissing and making him take you home when you get sick? I know all about the will, and I saw you staring at him. Grandma has seen it, too. You want him to be your boyfriend.”

Had she really looked at him in that way? “Nick and I are friends,” she said, as she sniped two inches of dried split hair. But were they? She didn’t know how she really felt about him and was afraid of what he might feel for her. Afraid he might feel nothing one way or the other. “Don’t you have boys who are just friends?”

“A few, but that’s different.”

They both fell silent and Delaney thought about Nick and what she felt about him. Jealousy for sure. The thought of him with another woman made her stomach knot. Anxious, wondering when she might see him again, and disappointment at knowing it was probably best if she didn’t.

She let down the remainder of Sophie’s hair and slightly beveled the ends so it would curl under easily at her shoulders. She grabbed a big round brush and blew it dry. Mostly Delaney felt confused.

“Why are you being nice?”

“How do you know I am? You haven’t seen the back of your hair yet.” She gave Sophie a hand mirror and spun her around.

Relief flooded the girl’s eyes when she saw her hair hadn’t been butchered. “I don’t have money to pay you.”

“I don’t want your money.” Delaney removed the cape and neck strip and lowered the chair. “When someone asks you where you got your hair cut, you tell them at the Cutting Edge, but if you go home and start washing your beautiful hair with something harsh and it starts looking like hell again, you tell everyone you got it cut at Helen’s Hair Hut.” She thought she detected a slight smile but wasn’t quite sure. “No more notes, and I’ll accept your apology when you really mean it.”

Stone-faced, Sophie studied her reflection. Her eyes met Delaney’s, then she walked to the front of the salon and grabbed her coat. After she walked out the door, Delaney watched her move down the sidewalk. Sophie waited half a block before she ran her fingers through her hair and tossed her head. Delaney smiled. She recognized the signs of a pleased customer.

She turned from the window and wondered what Sophie’s family would think.

The next morning she found out as she decorated her salon for the Christmas season. Nick walked into the front door of her salon wearing his leather jacket and platinum Oakley’s. Delaney had just started coffee brewing and was preparing for her nine-thirty appointment. She had a half an hour before Wannetta Van Damme teetered in for her monthly finger wave.

“Sophie told me you cut her hair.”

Delaney set a roll of clear tape and a string of green garland on her styling station counter. Her heart hitched a beat and she placed a hand on her stomach. “Yes, I did.”

He reached for his sunglasses and slid his gaze down her black turtleneck and short kilt skirt to her black riding boots. “How much do I owe you?” he asked as he shoved his Oakley’s in his jacket pocket and pulled out a checkbook.

“Nothing.” He raised his gaze to hers once again, and she lowered hers to the middle of his chest. She couldn’t look in his eyes and think at the same time. “I cut hair sometimes just for promotion.” She turned to her station and straightened a jar of sanitized combs. She heard his footsteps behind her but kept her attention on her work.

“She also told me she’s the one who left those threatening notes.”

Delaney looked up into his reflection in the mirror as he moved toward her. He unzipped his jacket, and beneath it, he wore a blue flannel shirt tucked into his Levi’s and a leather woven belt. “I’m surprised she told you.”

“After you cut her hair, she started feeling so guilty she broke down and confessed last night.” He stopped directly behind her. “I don’t think she should be rewarded with a free hair cut.”

“I didn’t see it as... a...” She locked at him through the glass and forgot what she’d been about to say. He was so bad for her mental health. He was so close, if she leaned back just a little, she could press herself into his big chest.

“You didn’t see it as what?”

The smell of crisp morning air clung to him. She took a deep breath, pulling the scent of him deep into her lungs.

“Delaney?”

“Hmm?” Then she did lean back, her shoulders into his chest, her behind pressed into his groin. He was solid and fully aroused. He brought one hand around to her stomach and he drew her tight against him. Delaney followed his gaze to his long fingers splayed wide across her abdomen. His thumb brushed the underside of her right breast.

“When is your first appointment this morning?” he asked close to her ear. He pushed the edge of her turtleneck and kissed the side of her throat.

Her eyes drifted closed, and she tilted her head to one side to give him better access. He cared about her. He had to. “In about twenty minutes.”

“I could give us what we both need in fifteen.” His fingers brushed her sensitive flesh through the cotton of her shirt.

She was falling in love with him. She could feel it happen like a fierce undertow, pulling at her, sweeping her feet from beneath her, and there was nothing she could do about it except maybe save herself a little pain. She looked into his stunning face and said, “I don’t want to be just another of your women, Nick. I want more.”

He raised his gaze to hers. “What do you want?”

“While I’m here, I want to be the only woman you’re with. Just me.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I want you to make love only to me. I want you to get rid of your other women.”

His hand stilled and he studied her for several long moments. “You want me to ‘get rid’ of all the women I’m supposed to be screwing to make some sort of commitment to you for what... six months?”

“Yes.”

“What do I get in return?”

She’d been afraid he’d ask that question. There was only one answer she could give him, and she was aware he might not think it enough. “Me.”

“For six months.”

“Yes.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I want to make love with you, but I don’t want to share you with anyone.”

“You say the word ‘love’ a lot.” He straightened and dropped his hand from her abdomen. “Do you love me?”

She was scared as hell she did and afraid of what it meant. “No.”

“Good, because I don’t love you.” He took a step back and zipped his jacket. “You know what they say about me, wild thing. I can’t be faithful to one woman, and you haven’t said anything that would make me want to try.” He took a few more steps backward. “If you want hot, sweaty sex, you know where to find me. If you want someone to beg for crumbs at your table for a few months, find someone else.”

She didn’t want him to beg for anything and didn’t really know what he meant, only that she wasn’t enough for him. After he left Delaney wanted nothing more than to curl up in a tight ball and cry. Maybe she should have taken those fifteen minutes he offered, but she was more selfish than that. She didn’t share. Not men, and especially not Nick. She wanted him all to herself. Unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same. Because of the risk he’d taken to be with her, she’d been so sure he cared. She guessed not.

Now she didn’t have to think about what loving Nick meant. She didn’t have to consider the repercussions or what to do about them. All she had to do was get through the next six months.