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ChapterEleven
That next Wednesday, Harper rested her hip against the black marble counter of Jinx’s make-up station. A fifteen-minute lunch break at her best friend’s private salon was the perfect antidote to a busy day. Watching Jinx try out samples of high-end make-up on herself was soothing in an abstract kind of way. She studied Jinx as the stylist applied a designer brand of mascara.
“Why is it that when a woman applies mascara, she has her mouth wide open?” Harper asked.
Jinx laughed with said open mouth and gave an expert final stroke to the tips of her lashes. “There’s an unwritten law. Mouth open and eyebrows up.” She shrugged. “It’s one of those actions that divides women into two camps. Like the rule of how you clean your teeth.”
Harper blinked. “Huh?”
Jinx smiled into the mirror as she ran her fingers through her hair. “You pick up your toothbrush, wet it and apply toothpaste. What’s the next thing you do?”
Harper imagined herself in her morning routine. “Wet the brush again before putting it into your mouth.” What else would she do?
“Exactly.” Jinx picked up a tube of lip gloss, inspecting the gold lettering. “You perform that all-important fourth step. Some people don’t.”
“But that extra splash of water’s essential. Otherwise, the toothpaste is too dry.” And it sticks to your teeth and doesn’t go all foamy. Toothpaste had to go foamy or else, well, it just had to.
“Agreed. And that kind of thinking is why you make it into my bunker.”
“Your bunker?” Harper grinned as Jinx turned her head from side to side to inspect her appearance.
The stylist faced Harper. “If there’s ever a catastrophe and I’ve got time to get people to my bunker, I’m going to be selective about who gets entry. You’re there, babe.”
“I’m honored.” Harper chuckled. “Pray tell, where is this bunker.” She envisioned a Vogue Interiors-designed safe room complete with lush furnishings, wifi, Netflix and a wine fridge. In other words, the essentials.
“Some components of my plan are still in the early stages.” Jinx’s deadpan expression matched her voice.
Harper snorted. “Right.”
Both women giggled just as Harper’s phone rang. She grabbed her phone resting on the counter, glanced at the screen, and answered. “Hey, Nitro. I’m heading back soon. Still have five minutes left.”
“Harper,” Her favorite barista and childhood friend spoke in a low, hushed voice. “There’s a guy here to see you and he’s kind of intense.”
A twinge of unease settled in her belly. “Are you guys okay?” If her staff were in danger, Nitro would call 911.
“Yeah, he’s cool. Too cool. Looks like he could take us all on with one hand and win.” Nitro shared. “Speaks with an Aussie accent. Says his name is Lincoln Harris.”
Her mouth dropped. She stared at Jinx, who now gave Harper her full attention. Lowering the phone, she whispered to Jinx, “Seth’s brother’s just shown up at Seven Dishes. Lincoln, the one I told you about last night.”
“Holy shit.” Jinx dropped the lip gloss on the counter and grabbed her phone and wallet.
Harper spoke into the phone. “I’m coming now.”
“Okay.” Nitro replied. “I called Seth. Didn’t know if this guy has anything to do with those posts, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Seth’s in his car. Said he’d be fifteen minutes. Sounded pissed.”
Well, damn.
“Right. Be there in a sec.” Harper rushed past the various lounges and tables with their high-end fixtures. “Nitro called Seth. I guess I’ve got a couple of minutes before all hell breaks loose.” Her voice sounded jumpy as she raced down the two flights of stairs.
“No time for a battle plan.” Jinx checked to make sure the security door had clicked closed behind them as they entered the street. “We’ll need to rely on charm.”
“Somehow I don’t like our chances.” Harper dashed across the road, Jinx beside her.
They entered the café to what seemed like a stage set, everyone in their place but somehow frozen, as if waiting for the next line. Lincoln, his blue eyes so eerily familiar, stood a few feet to the side of the counter, his back toward the far wall and facing the street. He had an air of danger about him, amplified by the way his navy T-shirt stretched over the breadth of his chest and shoulders. The low heels of his boots added maybe an inch to his already impressive height. One hand was slid into the front pocket of his jeans.
Nitro was behind the counter, along with Abby. Both were looking from the big Aussie to her and back again. Abby’s gaze was more curious, while Nitro’s was tempered with caution. Nadia, Kristy and Louis were waiting tables for the end of the lunch crowd, who, thankfully, seemed unaware of any tension.
So far so good.
