than at school, Tammy had been one of the few girls she’d considered a friend.
Wanda Mae whipped out a poster board that listed names, dates and hours. “It only costs two dollars to get in the pool. All you have to do is pick a day and a block of time that hasn’t been chosen. Then write down whether you think it’s a boy or girl. The winner gets two hundred dollars.”
Oh, why not? Cindy dug through her purse and handed Wanda Mae two one-dollar bills. Then she chose August twenty-eight. She’d heard most babies came in the middle of the night, so she took the hours between midnight and six in the morning. And since Wanda Mae had mentioned that the doctor said it was a boy, she figured it would be silly to guess Tammy’s baby would be a girl.
After returning the chart to Wanda Mae, she took a seat near the front window. She didn’t have to wait long until she was called.
From that moment on, Cindy was pampered and fussed over until she thought she could really get used to the special attention.
She couldn’t help marveling at how soft her hands were. She could have sworn they were going to stay permanently chapped. Her skin smelled good, too. Like orange blossoms and cream.
And her toes sported a pretty pink polish that matched her fingernails.
She’d even agreed to have her eyebrows waxed. Ouch.
As she sat in a swivel chair before a big gold mirror, she could hardly recognize the image of the woman who looked back at her.
The beautician studied the awkward strands, tugging, poking. “It’s a beautiful color. You really ought to wear it down and show it off.”
“I’ve always had a hard time running a comb through it,” Cindy explained. “And if I don’t bind it up somehow, by nighttime it looks like I barely survived a Texas twister.”
“We’ll see what a little styling and conditioning does about that.”
Moments later, the woman got to work, and Cindy sat back and watched.
After a conditioning process and a practically tangle-free comb out, Cindy decided she would have to stock up on some conditioner to use at home. Then she watched the beautician go to work, combing, lifting, snipping. And before long, the woman took a rounded brush and a blow dryer, carefully styling as the hair dried.
“Well,” the stylist said, after shutting off the hot air and handing Cindy a handheld mirror. “What do you think?”
She didn’t know what to think, other than that the results were magical. She had no idea how long it would last, but it looked pretty darn good, even if she did say so herself. “I’d always considered my hair one of my biggest flaws. And I can’t believe what you’ve done to it.”
“Thanks. I take pride in my job, especially when I have something to work with. You’re a pretty woman. Now all you need is a dab of lipstick. Why don’t you get it out of your purse.”
“I…don’t wear makeup,” Cindy said.
“Well, I suppose you don’t really need it. But we’ve got some new products on display that a lot of our clients have been raving about.” She hollered to the front of the shop. “Wanda Mae, will you bring me a tube of Pretty in Pink?”
By the time the women had finished with her, Cindy held a sack full of beauty supplies and a detailed list of instructions for their use. And even though she still felt like a guppy in a mason jar, her self-esteem had sure gotten a shot in the arm.
But that was nothing compared to the jolt she received when Blake strode into the Cut N Curl at five o’clock.
As Blake’s eyes lit on Cindy, he froze in his tracks.
Talk about beauty makeovers. She’d gone from Calamity Jane to a redheaded Cinderella in a few short hours.
“What do you think?” she asked, nibbling on her bottom lip.
Heck, he didn’t know what to think.
Her hair hung loose to her shoulders in a sexy array of curls that seemed to dance whenever she moved her head. He wasn’t sure what they’d done to her eyebrows, but they sure made a guy focus on those expressive green eyes.
And the pink lipstick she wore made her lips look…well, they looked just plain kissable.
“Is it too much?” she asked.
No. It was just right. But he couldn’t seem to open his mouth to tell her.
“For Pete’s sake, Blake, you’re making me so darn nervous I could bust.”
“You look fine. Nice.” He had to force the words out, as well as make himself breathe.
He’d expected a makeover to help her look somewhat attractive. But he hadn’t expected her to bubble over with…whatever it was that was bursting from the seams of that little blue skirt and white silky blouse.
“Don’t let him kid you,” Wanda Mae said. “I saw the way he nearly tripped over his jaw when he took one look at you. My gosh, girl, you’re as pretty as a fashion model.”
“Do you think Robby will be surprised?” Cindy asked him.
Flabbergasted would be more like it.
Suddenly, a flood of responsibility washed over Blake. He couldn’t just let Cindy out on the streets looking like that. Not without some way of protecting her from a pack of males on the prowl. It would be like throwing a calf to the coyotes. “You’re not going out in public like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“At least, not without me. Not yet. You’re not ready for Robby, or any other guy, for that matter.”
She slapped her hands on her hips, and the familiar sass erupted in her eyes. “I’ve taken a lot of guff over the years from some of the kids I’ve gone to school with, but I’m not about to let you tease me, too.”
“Tease you?” God knows he’d done his share of ribbing her in the past about one thing or another, but he wasn’t teasing about her looks. Or the appeal she was bound to have on the unsuspecting single males in Blossom. And some of the married ones, too, he suspected.
She slid him a pout that actually made her look all the more sexy. “I don’t need you to rub in the fact that I haven’t had any real dates.”
“You’ve never had a date?” Wanda Mae laughed. “Well, that’s about to change. Maybe I’d better go into the back room and find a stick that you can use to chase off the men whenever you come into town.”
The flashy orange-haired woman was right.
Blake took Cindy by the hand. “Listen, honey. I told you I’d coach you. And that’s what I intend to do. You look great. And there isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t agree with me. But men are a strange breed, and I just want to make sure you can hold your own.”
“Listen here, Blake Gray Feather. I have no problem holding my own with men. Never had, never will.”
“I’m
