CHAPTER THREE
REBECCA GLANCED NERVOUSLY through Hair And Now’s large front window as the clock ticked inexorably toward ten. The weather was cool and clear with a slight breeze—another perfect autumn day. Not many people were out and about yet, but Saturdays typically started slow at this end of town. Three blocks away at the bakery, there’d be a crowd wanting coffee, donuts and muffins. Starbucks might be taking over the planet, but the citizens of Dundee still patronized Don and Tami’s Bakery.
Maybe Josh wouldn’t show, Rebecca thought hopefully, noting the dearth of traffic. If he stood her up, she could shrug when she next saw her father and say, “I was perfectly willing to make peace, Dad, but he never arrived.” And then she’d look innocent for a change.
Perfect. She smiled as she began readying her station with rods and tissues for the permanent wave she’d be giving at eleven, imagining the look of disappointment on her father’s face if for once Josh failed him. This whole truce thing could end up working in her favor. She could feign disappointment in his stubborn refusal to put the past behind them and—
The bell rang over the door, causing Rebecca’s daydream to dissipate. She knew without turning that Josh had arrived. The murmur that ran from Katie, the other stylist, to Mona, the manicurist, to Nancy Shepherd, who was having her nails done, would have told Rebecca even if her sixth sense did not.
But her sixth sense was working just fine. Somehow she could always tell when Josh was around. He made her feel clumsy, nervous, unattractive.
No wonder she didn’t like him. Anyway, despite her wishful thinking, she’d known all along that he’d appear. He’d never been one to back down from a challenge.
Rebecca cleaned her combs and scissors before looking up. She needed a moment to gather her nerve. Josh was so much easier to hate when he wasn’t within ten feet of her. Ever since she’d made the mistake of going home with him that one night, something had changed. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it made their relationship—or absence of a relationship—very complex. She supposed kissing a man the way she’d kissed him, as though she longed to climb inside his skin and live there for the rest of her life, tended to confuse the issues.
“Hi, Josh, what brings you in today?” Mona asked. At least fifteen years his senior, Mona had a handful of children at home as well as a husband, but the pitch of her voice suggested she could still appreciate a handsome man when she saw one. And Josh was definitely handsome. He had thick blond hair that fell carelessly across his forehead, skin that tanned so easily he was golden-brown before anyone else even thought of bringing out their summer clothes, and intelligent green eyes that sparkled with more than enough mischief to keep a woman guessing.
Fortunately Rebecca had long ago perfected her immunity to his rugged virility. She couldn’t really explain her brief lapse that fateful August 16th, but she was still Rebecca Wells. Josh Hill was never going to get the best of her.
“I have an appointment this morning,” he told Mona.
“You’re Katie’s first client?”
“He’s not my ten o’clock,” Katie said. “Unless there’s been some mix-up, I’m doing a perm for Mrs. Vanderwall. And Erma’s not coming in today. She’s off visiting her sister in Boise.”
From the corner of her eye, Rebecca saw Josh shove his hands in the pockets of his Wranglers. “Actually, I’m here to see Rebecca.”
“You’re joking, right?” Mona was chuckling as she spoke, as though he had to be joking. Everyone in town knew that putting her and Josh together was like putting a match to gasoline.
Rebecca cleared her throat and faced them fully. If she waited any longer to acknowledge Josh’s presence, he might realize she wasn’t quite up to her usual self.
“Josh, good to see you,” she said, forcing a smile.
He gave her that crooked grin of his, the one that showed his dimples, and immediately called her on the lie. “Are you sure?”
Hell, no. “I’m trying to be positive,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her because she suddenly didn’t know where to put them.
He settled his black felt cowboy hat further back on his head. “So this truce thing is for real.”
“I guess,” she said with a shrug.
“Because I gotta tell ya, that fiasco at your sister’s wedding was…” He shook his head and let his breath go all at once.
“I can’t believe you’d even bring that up,” Rebecca responded, bridling. “You made me take out the punch fountain.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re the one who tripped me in the first place.”
“I didn’t even touch you!”
“Wait a second,” Katie said. “That wedding was the most exciting thing this town has seen in the past three years. If you two call a truce, life’s going to get pretty boring around here. Who will Rebecca have to fight with?”
“She doesn’t need me,” Josh said. “She’s always been her own worst enemy.”
Katie started to chuckle, but Rebecca gave her a look that said “shut up or pay later.” Katie covered her mouth with one hand in an effort to hide her amusement. But Rebecca wasn’t fooled. She would’ve said something to the effect that she wouldn’t be around to entertain everyone much longer. Except she felt a little unsure of that right now. And Mrs. Vanderwall entered the salon just then, offering the perfect distraction.
“Your ten o’clock is here,” Rebecca said pointedly to Katie and narrowed her eyes at Mona long enough to remind her that she had a client, too. As Mona finally bent over Nancy Shepherd’s hands, Nancy said, “Don’t look at me, I didn’t say anything,” and Rebecca turned back to Josh. “I should’ve known you’d make this difficult.”
His devil-may-care grin reappeared. “I thought that’s how you like things.”
“I don’t like things difficult.”
“Yes, you do. The harder the better.”
Rebecca was fairly certain he didn’t mean what he’d said as a sexual innuendo, but his words still brought visions of August 16th. He’d been as aroused as she had—which was the only saving grace about the whole experience. She might have embarrassed herself by nearly sleeping with the enemy but, if memory served, the attraction had been very mutual. “I’m not the one who rained on your parade,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“You moved in across the street from me.”
“That’s what you hold against me?” he cried. “That I moved in across the street from you? How the hell was I supposed to help that? I was eight years old, for crying out loud.”
She hadn’t really meant what she’d said, of course. He hadn’t ruined her life by moving in across the street. He’d ruined her life by being everything her father had ever wanted. But trying to explain that would sound equally ridiculous. She was thirty-one. Her father’s preference for Josh shouldn’t bother her anymore.
“Never
