Free The Right Kind of Love by Kennedy Kelly Page A

knee-length pencil skirt and leopard blouse. I had paired it with a pair of gold wedge sandals. They made me feel like I was on top of the world, and I bet they put me up around 5’3” from my short stature. I had decked myself out with some gold jewelry not to overdo, but enough to show I had flair and that I worked in a salon. It was important to put off the image of having fashion savvy. I’d also curled my blonde tresses on the ends to give it some body and finished out with a shine spray to make it look lustrous. I completed the look with my signature perfume with its rich vanilla and floral scent.
    Picking up a hair magazine, I checked out the latest styles. I had a feeling I would be learning a lot here—at least I hoped. In only a short time, just a little over three years, cutting hair, and creating different hairstyles came naturally to me. It was fun to be able to work with a blank canvas and create a masterpiece.
    I heard someone clear their throat and I looked up to the reception desk. I had to do a double take. For the love of God, it was Damien’s skank from last night, but in all actuality, she didn’t look like a skank. She was dressed extremely classy with her hair done just so and flowing down her back in light waves and her outfit was absolutely darling. Maybe she just had a week moment and got involved with Damien. I could only sympathize with her because those tattoos and his sexy smile drove me a little on the crazy side as well. I wouldn’t deny that I was attracted to him. I just didn’t do one night stands. And let’s be real here—he wasn’t boyfriend material. He was too interested in getting a different piece of ass every night.
    I closed the magazine and placed it on the table. It was now or never. I walked up to the reception desk. “Hi, Mindy, what a surprise.”
    She stared daggers at me. “It’s Miranda, and hi. What are you doing here?”
    “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just well...” And suddenly I was at a loss for words.
    She prompted me. “How can I help you?”
    “I’m sorry, yes, Miranda.” I apologized again. God, I felt like a huge flippin’ idiot. “I’m your new stylist, and I’m supposed to start today. I guess I need to see Drea.”
    “Oh, sure. You must be Sydney Summers.” She reached her hand out to me. “Let me formally introduce myself. I’m Miranda Jones” She seemed very sincere. And I let down my guard.
    I took my hand and shook hers. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry about the circumstances last night.”
    She looked at me with confidence. She wasn’t embarrassed about being caught in just a shirt and nothing else. She wasn’t embarrassed about begging Damien to come back to bed. I had no clue what was going through her head, but I admired her confidence.
    “Yeah, that was less than favorable. I’m sure we can move past that.”
    “Yeah, totally. I’m sorry I interrupted your night.” I wasn’t going to divulge anything to her, but I wanted to be polite.
    She waved her hand in the air. “It’s no big deal. We had our fun before you had your nightmare. By the way, are you okay?”
    Shit, shit, shit… she heard my nightmare. I guess I would have to play damage control if she asked much more. My hands started to sweat and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I rolled it off. “Totally fine, not to worry, Miranda.”
    “Ah, okay. Well, I’ll let Drea know you are here. You can look around if you want or just have a seat and wait.” She motioned to the waiting area.
    “Great, I think I’ll just have a seat. Thanks, for everything, Miranda. I appreciate it.” Maybe I would have a new friend here.
    Going back to my chair, I picked up the magazine and resumed my reading. It only lasted for a couple of minutes before Drea came out to the waiting area. I heard someone say my name and looked up.
    “Hi, you must be Drea?” I knew it was she because I had seen her picture on the website.
    She stuck her hand out to me and we