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“Sometimes it’s worse when they say yes. I have had a few dates in the last couple of years, you know. Nothing ruins a perfectly good dinner like awkward conversation. Or the awkward lack thereof. With one girl, I skipped the dinner fiasco entirely and just took her to the movies.” He brightened. “That night ended pretty well.”
Tess did not want details. “You can’t base a relationship on just movies and...other activities that don’t require talking. Eventually you’d have to speak to her. All you need is practice. You’ve been riding horses your whole life, right?” At his prompt nod, she continued, “But your parents didn’t send you off at a full gallop your first time out of the gate. We just need to start small. And maybe...”
“What?”
She hesitated. On the drive over here, she’d planned to ask him how he’d feel about a slight change in image. A haircut, some new shirts—just a few minor tweaks that might help Farrah see him in a different light. But Tess was abruptly reluctant. He looked pretty damn good already.
“Tess?”
“I, uh...” She swallowed. “Sorry. Lost my train of thought.”
His expression turned sympathetic. “Nerves? We can turn back to the barn if you want.”
“What? Oh, no. Aimee and I are doing just fine.” Tess had momentarily forgotten she was even on horseback. She’d been too caught up in Nick. You mean, caught up in how to help him. That’s why she was here, after all. “Do you see many movies? If this were a romantic comedy, we’d be coming up on a makeover sequence, complete with musical montage.”
“Makeover?” He eyed her suspiciously. “The movies I like have shoot-outs, not manicures.”
“Which would be helpful if you wanted to kill a guy at high noon. Not so helpful in winning you a valentine. Don’t worry, I’m not talking about a full-on makeover. No one’s suggesting highlights or a spray tan—”
“I should hope the hell not!”
“But a haircut couldn’t hurt, perhaps some new clothes. All of which we can get at a mall. Know what else is at the mall?”
“A bunch of overpriced stuff I don’t need?”
“Women. Female salesclerks, stylists, shoppers. Lots of chances for you to practice nonranching small talk.”
“Sounds like a blast,” he said grimly.
“There’s a teacher planning day at the end of the week—my students are all excited about a day off school. We can take Bailey and make an outing of it, hit the food court for lunch, let her ride the big merry-go-round. How bad could it be, a full day of shopping and my shoving you into constant conversation with total strangers?”
“This is payback for making you get on a horse, isn’t it?”
No, that was just an added bonus. She gave him a sunny smile. “Why, Mr. Calhoun, I hope you don’t think I’m vindictive.”
He chuckled. “What I think is, it would be a mistake to ever underestimate you.”
That cinched it—he was not only the good-looking Calhoun brother, he was the smart one, too.
Chapter Five
Tess pushed away her empty salad bowl and resisted the urge to steal one of Nick’s heavenly-smelling French fries. A few yards away, Bailey waited her turn to go down the spiral slide that dominated the indoor playground. Nick had made the mistake of telling her she could play as soon as she’d finished her food; she’d inhaled her chicken nuggets and macaroni so quickly it was a wonder she hadn’t choked.
Now that the two adults were alone, Tess could dispense advice freely. It had seemed wrong to give Nick tips on picking up women in front of his six-year-old. “I know I said you need practice talking to women, but it’s not all about what you say. Being a good listener is a very sexy trait. And a smile can be just as effective as words. Especially a smile like yours.”
He tilted his head, regarding her with a mixture of chagrin and amusement. “I appreciate your trying to inspire confidence, but you don’t have to resort to flattery.”
“I never say anything I don’t mean!” She fixed him with a reproving look. “You know better than that.”
He thought she’d been exaggerating the truth to bolster him? The man must not own a mirror. He wasn’t like his brother Kevin, a sly grin always at the ready, but Nick’s smiles were infinitely more appealing. Ever since Nick and Bailey had picked her up at her house that morning, Tess had watched him joke with his daughter, particularly enjoying the way his eyes gleamed silver when he laughed.
Nick pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “You want me to chat up a bunch of strangers when I can’t even talk to you without putting my foot in my mouth?”
“People say things that come out wrong all the time. Just say you’re sorry and move on.”
“That easy, huh?”
“Yep, that easy.” Honesty compelled her to add, “More or less.”
* * *
IF NICK WAS AMBIVALENT about entering the expensive-looking salon on the second floor of the mall, his daughter was outright hostile.
“Why do I hafta get my bangs cut?” she asked, thrusting her lower lip out so far it was in a different zip code than the rest of her face.
“Because I miss seeing your pretty eyes,” Nick said, signing both their names on the waiting list. “I’ve forgotten what you look like. If your bangs get any longer, you’re gonna start walking into walls.”
From behind the wild fringe that hung halfway to her nose, Bailey glared. At least, that’s the impression he got. But she kept any further complaints to herself, leaving his side to peruse a children’s magazine rack.
Nick dropped into the chair next to Tess, imitating his daughter’s melodramatic whine. “Do I hafta get my hair cut? It’s not fairrr.”
Giggling, Tess shoved his shoulder. “Cowboy up. Set a good example for your kid.” A moment later, she bit her lip. “You won’t let them cut too much, though, will you?”
“I thought the point was to make me less shaggy.”
“Yeah, but... You look good exactly as you are. It’s just that, after people have known each other a long time, sometimes it takes kind of a lightbulb moment to get them to think of each other differently. You’re not a stammering fourteen-year-old kid anymore. You only need enough of a change to make Farrah do a double take, to really see you.”
It sounded good in theory, but given Farrah’s seeming disinterest when he’d said hi to her at the studio last Friday, earning a double take might require something drastic. Like a mohawk. Or an Afro. “How do you think I’d look with a buzz cut?”
“Don’t even joke about that!” Tess lifted a hand, sifting her fingers through his hair. It felt far better than it should. His scalp tingled beneath her touch, and he had the urge to lean closer.
“Miss Tess, can you help me?” Bay crawled into her ballet teacher’s lap. “I’m looking for hidden pictures.”
“Then you’re in luck,” Tess said. “Because I excel at finding those. It’s one of my five-hundred-and-thirteen talents.”
Bailey’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot. What are the other five hundred and...” She trailed off, her lips moving silently as she calculated. “Twelve? Is one of them fighting ninjas? Daddy and I do that at our tea parties. Maybe you could help us.”
The two females were discussing what style hat one wore to a formal gathering that included kung-fu combat when a woman with purple hair called Nick’s name. “Mr. Calhoun?”
Tess slid Bailey to Nick’s now-unoccupied chair and walked toward the stylist,
giving cheerful instructions.
The woman nodded. “Got it. Don’t worry, your husband is in good hands with me. He’ll look even hotter when I’m through.”
Tess’s face flushed. “Oh, no, we’re not... He isn’t...”
“Sorry.” The stylist ducked her magenta-tinged head. “I saw the three of you sitting together and assumed... My bad.”
Nick followed her to a chair at the back of the salon, thinking that he could understand her error. Anyone who’d watched Tess with Bailey today could easily conclude the two were mother and daughter. They’d been holding hands through the mall, playing guessing games and singing nonsensical songs. On the isolated occasions Tess had reprimanded the little girl for something, Bailey had immediately corrected her behavior. They didn’t look alike physically, but Bay didn’t much resemble Marla, either, having inherited Nick’s coloring.
Still, Tess and Bailey shared some sort of indefinable inner light, the same enthusiastic natures. Nick’s parents were good people; they’d tried their best to do right by their sons but there’d never been a sense of playfulness in his home. Until Bailey was born, the closest anyone in the family had come to a sense of humor was Kevin, but his “wit” centered far too much on his supposed prowess with women. There were few things Nick enjoyed more than laughing with his daughter. Before today, he hadn’t given much thought to how rarely he laughed with other adults.
The stylist dampened his hair with a spray bottle. “So if you two aren’t married, are you at least dating? Usually my instincts about couples are spot-on.”
