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“We’ll find you something to do,” Misty says with an easy smile. “What did you do back in St. Louis?”
I swallow as I watch her. I’m proud of what I do, and I worked hard for my certifications, but some people have negative opinions about people who work trade jobs. Those opinions grow even less complimentary when they discover I quit college because I got pregnant before my senior year and needed to get a job that paid a little more than minimum wage.
“I’m a cosmetologist.”
Misty jerks her head over her shoulder to look at Em. “Did you hear that?”
A sense of foreboding coats my skin.
“Hair and nails?” Khloe, another woman I met yesterday, asks as she steps closer.
“Here we go,” Kincaid grumbles from across the room.
The apprehension starts to fade when they all walk closer with wide smiles on their faces.
“We all go to a salon in town, but it’s such a hassle because the guys have to tag along,” Em says.
“We’ve had the conversation more than once about wishing we had someone here that could do it,” Misty adds.
“Would you be interested?” Khloe asks.
“In cutting your hair?” All three women nod. “I’d love to.”
Em gives an excited yip, clapping her hands like she’s a teen who just got invited to prom by the high school heartthrob. She looks over her shoulder at her husband.
“What’s going on?” Shadow, Misty’s husband, asks when he enters the kitchen.
“Looks like we’re going to be making a trip to Albuquerque,” Kincaid tells him, but there’s a smile in his voice. It doesn’t take a fool to see just how smitten that man is with his wife. I get the very distinct feeling that all the men here would give their partners the world. All they have to do is request it.
“That won’t be necessary,” I rush to say. “I just need a few products. I can grab them from Amazon.”
Kincaid shakes his head. “It’s not going to be that simple.”
My happiness at being able to help fades quickly. Until this moment, I didn’t think about the supplies I left at my job. I didn’t have the top-end stuff, but the things I did have aren’t something I can easily replace. Vincent freaked out when I used my credit card at the gas station. I doubt contacting my job and requesting they send me my things would be allowed. I’d never risk Keres finding out where we went anyway.
“I can’t—”
Em holds her hand up. “We’ll get everything you’d need at a normal salon, and we can use one of the unfilled rooms.”
“That’s a great idea,” Misty adds, making a noise as she reaches her hands up into her hair. “There’s nothing better than having your hair washed.”
“Quit making those noises,” Shadow says with a hint of humor in his tone before he lifts a cup of coffee to his mouth.
An echo of chuckles fills the room, and much to my surprise, Misty doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed despite the heat on my cheeks on her behalf.
“The plumbing for one of those special hair washing chairs would be easy enough,” someone says from the other table.
“You’re overwhelming her,” a female says, and I look to her for rescue. “I’m Devyn.”
I shake her hand when it’s offered. She looks closer to my age than the other women here. As calming as that fact should be, it isn’t. I don’t have very good luck with women my age, especially the ones who are in a different place in life. Being a single mom has narrowed my social life a lot.
“They go all out,” she says throwing her thumb back over her shoulder. “I wanted to buy a specialty sewing machine to get some work done and ended up with an entire business.”
I take a deep breath.
“A salon on the property would look a little different,” Em says, stepping forward. “It would only be for the ones directly connected to the club.”
“We don’t allow many outsiders on the property,” Misty adds. “It’s for everyone’s safety.”
