is. If you ever meet a Jefferson man, my best advice to you is run.”
Clove blinked. That was the same thing Archer had said about the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls! “I’m still confused about the plural,” she said.
“Oh, you’d find quick enough that the Jeffersons do everything as a gang, a fixture upon our good and tidy landscape that can’t be overlooked, an eyesore, if you will. They approach you in a group. If one of them is alone, soon enough they’ll have backup. Before you know it, you’re theirs.”
Clove could hardly take this in. She thought about Archer’s hot, lean physique and felt her breath catch in her chest. “It sounds…”
“Scary, I know.”
Clove had been working the adjective “romantic” over in her mind. Hot. Sexy. Fantastic…
Marvella clucked with sympathy. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I have my dealings with the Jeffersons as necessary, but one thing is certain—they will never, ever take one of my girls from me again. And right now, you’re one of my girls.”
“Thank you.” Now was the wrong time to mention that she’d actually come to town to shanghai some Jefferson genes.
“How can I ever thank you for all you’ve done for me?” she quietly asked Marvella.
“You sit here,” Marvella said, “right up front, my precious, and just smile for the customers who come in the door. Just an hour,” she said, “will be repayment enough.”
“YOU COULD NOT HAVE possibly seen Clover go into Marvella’s,” Archer told Bandera. “I have seven-eight brother syndrome, which means I’m so far down on the family tree that I have to be observant or I get run over by my own beloved brothers. And I distinctly saw Clover turn left as she left the pens.”
“She may have,” Bandera said agreeably. “You may have seven-eight brother syndrome, but I have eleventh-brother syndrome, which means I was so close to becoming Last that I make certain everything is proven fact before I talk about it. And I saw a lady who looked a little hesitant, with big ugly glasses, go into Marvella’s.”
Archer’s boots moved faster as he headed to the door of the salon. “You’re crazy. She said she would listen to me. Good evening, miss,” he said, tipping his hat to the gorgeous woman seated on a bar stool just inside the doorway.
She stared at him, not inclined to say much, he guessed. Glancing around for Clover, he turned back to the bar-stool babe. “Did you happen to see a woman come in here, one who was lost, wearing glasses as thick as the tires on a truck?”
She looked perplexed, then she shook her head. He glanced over her big hair and her superbly applied makeup. The wooden bar stool only served to enhance her hourglass shape, keeping the focus on her curves as she sat straight for balance.
“You see,” he told Bandera, “Clover would stick out in here like a barn owl amongst peacocks. Let’s go check with Delilah.” He tipped his hat to the babelicious door greeter and headed out.
“Man alive, she was hot as a smokin’ pistol!” Bandera exclaimed. “Have you noticed that Marvella’s girls just keep getting hotter and hotter? Whooee! I feel like someone just lit a firecracker in my jeans!”
“She was all right,” Archer said. “Actually, she reminded me of Cissy. And you know, I love our sister-in-law, but remember, I was stuck in a truck once upon a time with her and Hannah, and I’m telling you, girls who look like that are misfired pistols in the wrong hands.”
“My hands would be just right,” Bandera said. “Oh, how quickly I would volunteer to be her bar stool the next time she needed a place to park that fanny!”
“Dunce,” Archer told him. “Get a grip. We’ve got a tourist to rescue.” They went across the street to Delilah’s, quietly tapping on the door because of the hour. The Jeffersons had their own keys for the back door, where they could go up the stairs and commandeer a special set of rooms Delilah kept just for them. But right now, Archer was hoping for intel on his lost farm girl.
“Why are you so worried about her, anyway?” Bandera demanded. “Let’s go back over to Marvella’s and spark a fire with the damsels.”
“No hunting for trouble tonight,” Archer stated. “If we bring home any more bad news related to Marvella, Mason’ll probably run us out of town for good. He still can’t believe Last got one of her girls pregnant while Mason was gone.”
They peered through the curtained window of the front door. Only a quaint lamp burned on the table. “Guess she and Jerry called it an early night,” Archer said. “Darn.”
“That means your little friend isn’t here. Delilah would be bustling around in the kitchen, making her welcome.”
“That’s true.” Now Archer was extremely worried.
“Could I be mistaken?” Bandera asked. “Perhaps I didn’t see her go into Marvella’s, and in fact, she has left town.”
Archer wheeled to look at him. “Are you mistaken?”
“If I say I am, can we go hit on Miss February over at Marvella’s?”
“No!” Archer was good and put out with his brother. “How can you think of women at a time like this! There is a poor girl somewhere in this town who has no place to go, and all you can think about is your…you know.” He wished it didn’t bother him so much that Clover might have left town. Certainly he had not been very friendly. “Just so long as she didn’t go to Marvella’s, I really don’t care where she went. That’s all I’m doing, trying to keep an innocent traveler from getting fleeced.”
“That’s right.” Bandera nodded. “That’s all that’s on your mind. And I’m not thinking about that beauty on the bar stool at all!”
CLOVE COULDN’T BELIEVE that Archer had left without recognizing her. It was so exciting! She felt like a different girl.
She was completely new.
The thought made her bite her lip. Clove felt her puffed-up big hair and her mascaraed lashes. The look really wasn’t her, though it was fun. But in a while, her eyes would start to itch from the makeup, and anyway, her scalp felt tight from all the hair spray lacquered onto her head.
She was glad he didn’t know she’d run counter to his suggestion and come to Marvella’s.
One hour had passed, the allotted time Marvella had asked her to sit out front. Longing for a shower, Clove went upstairs to her new room, closing the door. The feminine side of her wished Archer had noticed the big change in her—and the practical side remembered that he’d noticed her less as Cinderella than he had when she’d been Plain Jane.
It was time to let the inner stuntwoman in her throw caution to the wind.
Surely it couldn’t be that hard to attract a man.
“Yoo-hoo!” a voice called.
“Come in!”
One of the stylists walked into her room, leaving a small bottle on the table. “Marvella
