CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Everything was going well.
Too well.
Which only made Madison suspicious.
While she’d worried about Kyle’s family’s possible visit, he’d taken care of that with his usual take-charge attitude she loved. Hearing that he’d told his mother he was involved with someone had made her want to wrap her arms around him tightly and go on an ice cream marathon.
Now she held in her hand the first report from the Michelin consultant she’d insisted Kyle hire. More good news: no dips had occurred in the cooking and the excellence of service and every other Michelin item on the critic’s checklist was top notch.
Another huge win.
Was this the result of her recipe card exercise? Was Madison’s Spicy New Reality actually happening?
Yeah, it seemed to be, and yet more proof arrived that Saturday afternoon.
If someone had told her that a haircut would change her life, she’d have fallen off a chair laughing with Pierre cackling beside her.
Except after only ten minutes—ten minutes—she had perfect hair.
Her.
Madison Garcia.
Who usually cut her own.
Who barely made it once a year to the mall for a quick fix-it trim.
Voila.Brooke’s hair maestro had done the impossible.
Her staff eyed her as if she’d started growing carrots out of her head or something after the quiet Japanese man packed up his very sharp scissors—a brand she planned to look into later in case they had culinary shears—and left.
But business needed to get taken care of, haircut or not, so she stuffed a chef’s hat on her head and got back to work. They had Saturday night ahead of them and were booked solid like usual.
Going home to Kyle that night, she almost dragged her tired feet as she carried Pierre home with her. For some reason, she didn’t want Kyle to see her hair. She didn’t want to see the look on his face…
She tried to distract herself by thinking about the puppies coming on Monday, except those drooling faces couldn’t wipe out the unease in her belly.
The Romance Shrine was lit when she arrived home and she headed to Kyle’s office to drop off Pierre for the night. Then she ducked into the nearby bathroom and studied herself in the mirror. The last time she’d given herself such a serious perusal had been on New Year’s Eve, right after she’d kissed Kyle. That night, she’d caught a glimpse of the young girl she’d been.
Today she was looking at a new woman, one she didn’t recognize. At all. Who looked chic.
The usual tufts of hair sticking up on her head were gone. Instead, her hair fell in short curls around her head.
She scrubbed her hands through her hair to make it messy,but hand to God, the perfect symmetry fell back in place like those little tumblers in Kyle’s Swiss watch, the one he always took off before they went to bed.
What the hell was she supposed to do?
Sticking her head under the sink to soak her hair seemed extreme. If she did that, wouldn’t he wonder if stress was finally getting to her? Better to charge out and act as if nothing was different.
When she stalked into the kitchen, she watched his face blanch—the way a tomato did when you plunged it into boiling water to loosen the skin. Then he bit his lip, like he was trying to hide his reaction. Like she couldn’t already read his thoughts. He was amused, knowing she was uncomfortable. He probably thought it looked great. Except he only kissed her sweetly and then did his version ofhow was your day?,which was kind of cool.
She watched him for any telltale signs that he was secretly stewing about his whole parent breakup situation, because that’s how it sounded to her?—
They sucked. He dumped them. You move on.
