that.
“Hi, I’m Abby,” she introduced herself when she reached her station.
“I know. Abby Crane—you’re who I needed to see today,” the hunk responded. “I’m Dylan Camden.”
Abby went to stand in front of the chair to get a full forward view of him.
Wow, those eyes...she thought as she got close enough to see their color—vibrant, deep ultramarine blue. She’d never seen eyes a shade of blue that intense.
“Camden...like the stores? Or is that just a coincidence?” she asked, making conversation to break the ice.
“Not a coincidence,” he answered.
So he was a Superstore Camden...
Why had a bigwig like that suddenly been so eager to get in to see her in her small, north Denver salon?
“How did you hear about us?” she asked out of curiosity.
“You. It’s you I heard about,” he amended. “First from my sister-in-law Vonni. She runs the wedding departments in our stores and she knows your work for special occasions. She’s been finding that a lot of her brides and wedding parties are hiring you instead of using the salons in the Superstores.”
“We like to go the extra mile for big events,” Abby said, rather than bad-mouthing his salons.
“And you head that team.”
“I do,” she confirmed.
“Well, I’m here to talk to you about that, along with my own hair cut. My sister is getting married in about a week and she’s in a bind when it comes to the whole hair thing—”
“And you’re thinking we could do it? In ‘about a week?’”
“I know it’s ridiculously short notice and that you’re in high demand, so what I’m asking is a big deal. But I’m willing to do all I can to make it work.”
He knew that she was in high demand? There was something about the way he said it that made it sound like he thought he was some kind of authority on her.
But how could that be?
“Did you talk to China about all this when you called?” she fished.
“No, just about the haircut.”
“But you know about my scheduling?”
“I know a few things about you. Things you can’t know about yourself—”
“Such as?” Abby challenged him, suspicious.
“Such as, I know that when you were two years old you were left sleeping in the emergency department’s waiting room of Denver General Hospital with nothing but a blanket and a note pinned to you that said your name was Abby.”
How—why—would he know that? It wasn’t as if she readily or easily opened up to anyone—clients, friends, dates, anyone. And she’d never met this man before. Plus he was a Camden. Why would someone from a family like that know those kinds of details about her?
“You get off on reading twenty-eight year old newspaper articles?” she asked.
“No, we...uh...had a different source. One closer than a newspaper article.” His eyes met hers steadily. “But that’s better talked about privately so I thought maybe we could set up a time to meet later, too—”
“Okay, what is this?” Abby demanded firmly, switching to the tough-girl tone she’d sometimes needed to use in rough foster homes.
He held up his hands, palms out. “Exactly what I’ve told you—I’m here for a haircut and to talk to you about my sister’s wedding.”
“And about something that you want me to meet you for later?”
“Because it’s better talked about in private,” he repeated, his voice quieter than hers had been.
China appeared from nowhere just then and Abby knew her friend had been lurking close enough to hear at least a portion of what had been said. China had probably only been hanging around to ogle the guy, but now any indication of admiration was gone. In its place was I’ve-got-your-back mode. China had also been a foster child and it was a pattern the two of them had developed when they’d become friends.
But even though Abby wasn’t sure what was going on here, she didn’t think it was anything she couldn’t handle so she told China, “It’s okay.”
The tall, very blonde China looked from Abby to the man in her chair through narrowed hazel eyes that were always dramatically lined and shadowed.
To the client, China said, “If there’s something fishy with you—”
“There isn’t,” he claimed, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. “Look, I am who I say I am.” He handed Abby his driver’s license and a business card. “And I’m honestly here with only the best intentions.”
Abby looked over the license and card, then let China see them, too. When they were both finished with them he retrieved his license but left the card with Abby.
“Keep that. It has all my numbers on it—business and personal. I was going to leave it with you anyway so you could reach me after this.”
Abby looked at China, who looked back at Abby, both of them confused but still suspicious.
Then China stepped out of Abby’s station and seemed to disappear, though Abby had no doubt her friend would stay nearby.
“So, what’s going on?” she demanded then.
“Right now, a haircut and talk about my sister’s wedding,” he said as if he were narrowing it down for the moment.
Abby was half tempted to refuse both and send him packing.
But she knew that if Sheila—the owner of two shops who left the managing of this one to Abby—heard that Abby’d had the opportunity to do the wedding of anyone as prominent as a Camden and refused, there would be hell to pay. It would likely cost her her job. So she had to at least hear him out.
“A haircut and talk about your sister’s wedding,” she reiterated.
“For now, here. And then maybe we can set up something for later so I can tell you the rest. Somewhere neutral, where you feel completely safe and can just listen to what I have to say.”
Abby glared at him, again adopting her tough-girl attitude.
But once more she thought of how much she’d be risking if she didn’t accept the business he was offering, so she signaled her shampoo boy to come and lead Dylan Camden to the sinks. She stayed where she was, watching from there and wondering what was up with this guy.
When he’d first confirmed his connection to the Camden Superstores, she’d wondered if he was there to offer her a job. She’d heard that the Camden salons were really slipping
