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Chapter One
It wasn’t often that she had a stranger in her chair at The Wright Salon, much less a thirty-something-year-old male, that also happened to be ruggedly handsome, as in the handsome of the inscrutable romance cover hero.
Amanda Wright knew her romance cover heroes, too, as she and her sister Charity had lived off them growing up, surviving their harsh reality by living on fantasies and fairy tales. Jenny, their oldest sister, had been appalled, and would confiscate their paperbacks, tossing them out if she found them. Which was why Amanda and Charity learned to hide their romances between their mattresses, or stuff them inside the sleeves of their ugly, thrift store rainbow-hued winter coats.
Romance cover heroes were usually darkly handsome as well as brooding and enigmatic, traits found perhaps in the Highlands or Mediterranean principalities, but not in most small Montana towns. No, in small Montana towns like Marietta, men tended to be polite, practical, and dependable, and there was nothing wrong with practical and dependable men, but it just wasn’t exciting, and Amanda was holding out for a true romance hero, one that wasn’t just handsome, but a man that was powerful, successful, complex. Enigmatic.
And her client, Ty James, could easily pass for the enigmatic romance hero with his thick brown hair, light eyes the color of the sea, chiseled jaw, and firm chin. Never mind his lips which were pretty much perfect, especially when he smiled, which he didn’t do a lot. But when he did, it was the smile of movie stars—confident, easy, sexy—which made it almost impossible to focus, which wasn’t a good thing as she was wielding very sharp scissors, very close to his strong, tanned nape. True, he had what romance novels called a Roman nose, which meant it wasn’t small and straight, but a little bit prominent, but that just made his features all the more interesting. Amanda liked a good nose on a man, it kept him from being too pretty, and a nose with a hook or bump at the bridge implied he’d had it broken, maybe in a fistfight, maybe through sports. Either way, it was manly. Masculine.
“You’ve been a stylist for a long time?” he asked, as she gently pressed his head forward a bit, trying to give her a better view of his hairline while also trying to hide his gorgeous reflection from her line of sight. His masculine good looks were distracting. He was distracting, and she didn’t normally fall for just every handsome face. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time a man made her heart pitter-pat, and it wasn’t just doing a pitter-pat right now, but a full-on, racing horse gallop.
“Nine years,” she answered, “six full-time. The first three I was in college.”
“You did both?”
“I needed a job and it turned out I was good at it.”
“Where did you go to college?”
“I stayed local. Montana State, in Bozeman.”
“And what did you study?”
“Psychology.” She paused, ran her comb through the back of his hair, checking the length, making sure lines were straight. She glanced up into the mirror, caught his eye, and noted his surprise. She shrugged, lips curving. “I like people.”
“You must get to know your customers quite well.”
“I do. I’m very attached to my customers.” She paused, smiled again, a little more ruefully. “Well, most of them. There are a couple that drive me slightly bonkers, but they just make me appreciate the rest all the more.”
“What do the frustrating ones do to drive you bonkers?”
“Arrive thirty minutes late for a forty-five minute appointment, or forget to show at all.”
“That’s it?”
She smiled again, and shrugged. “I have really good customers.”
His green gaze held hers in the mirror and for a moment she completely lost focus.
“I noticed you had more starred reviews on Yelp than any other stylist in town,” he said, snapping her attention back.
“I do encourage them to leave a review if they’re happy,” she answered.
“Clearly, they’re happy.”
“It’s a win-win, then.” Amanda felt herself growing warmer by the moment.
What on earth was wrong with her? Hand shaking, she reached for her colorful bottle on her station shelf and took a quick drink of water, trying to cool herself off. It had obviously been far too long since she’d spent time with an attractive man because this was ridiculous. She was genuinely flustered.
“You have a name on the back of one of your chairs,” he said, watching her in the mirror. “Is it a memorial?”
She looked to see where he was pointing and laughed. “Oh, no. No! Bette is very much alive, as well as a very dear client and friend. She did something nice for me and so I gave her her very own chair. Only Bette is allowed to sit there, and that way she always knows I have time—and a spot—for her.”
“She must have liked that.”
“I think so.” Mandy took a comb and drew it through his hair, checking the length. “So you’re in town for a meeting tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re staying at the Graff?”
“It’s a nice hotel.”
“I’ve never actually stayed there, but it’s fun to go for drinks or their Sunday brunch.”
“Do you go often?”
“A couple times a year. Just for special occasions. Most of the time my sister and friends head to Grey’s. More our style, as well as a lot less spendy.”
Tyler James Justice had expected Amanda Wright to be polished and stylish—she did hair for a living, after all—but he hadn’t expected her to be quite so pretty.
Or kind.
Or appealing.
But she was pretty, strikingly pretty, and disarmingly sweet. Make that charming. For a moment he’d wondered if she’d had work done
, and then he spotted the photo of three gorgeous blonde women tucked into her mirror, their faces close, arms wrapped around each other, and they were all beautiful. “Girlfriends or sisters?” he asked, nodding to the photo.
She steadied his head, preventing him from moving again. “Sisters. I’m the baby.”
“When was this picture taken?”
“My sister’s wedding a couple years ago.”
“Do your sisters live here in Marietta, too?”
“Charity does. Jenny and her husband have a ranch in Colorado.”
“What does Charity do?”
Mandy didn’t answer immediately, her elegantly arched brows flattening as she concentrated on trimming the hair close to the tip of his right ear. On one hand he was impatient for her to answer, but on the other he appreciated her attention to detail and not nicking his ear.
“She works as the receptionist for a Realtor on Main Street,” Amanda finally said, before tipping his head forward and taking a razor to his nape, cleaning up the back of his neck. “I’m hoping, though, to eventually bring her here to help me manage the salon.”
“It wouldn’t be hard working with her?”
“Not at all. Charity is my best friend. We’re two peas in a pod. Mom used to say we were more like twins than twins. What about you?” she asked. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
He hesitated. “I had a brother. He died serving the country.”
Her hand went to his shoulder, her touch firm, warm. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
He swallowed around the unexpected lump in his throat. He rarely talked about Coby, and he never got emotional when he did, and he wasn’t at all sure why he’d mentioned his brother to her, and he certainly didn’t want to continue with such a personal conversation. He hadn’t come here to Marietta to be anyone’s friend. He was worried about his grandmother, and in particular, this young woman’s influence over his grandmother. It was a difficult time to be away from work, too, but when he’d heard his grandmother was considering amending her will to leave her house to Amanda ‘Mandy’ Wright, he knew he had to come and sort things out.
