Free Steal Me, Cowboy by Kim Boykin Page A

get the words out. “Go. Hiiiiiking.”
    So for the first time in the history of Nell’s Cut ‘n Curl, the fine art of foils was performed and the doors stayed open after five o’clock.
    Miss California’s name was Audrey and she was from Dana Point, which didn’t mean anything to me, but when she said Orange County, I knew where she was talking about. Audrey didn’t seem anything like the Housewives of Orange County; although she was pretty, she was also super nice. Sure she was probably a little high maintenance, and wasn’t the outdoorsy type, but when I got done with her, her hair looked fabulous.
    “Oh, Rainey. It’s beautiful,” she said, worshipping the image in the hand mirror as I twirled the chair around. “My stylist tried to talk me into this, but I’m new with him and just haven’t gotten to that point with him. You know?”
    I did know. The best part of my job is when a client embraces the trust that is such a huge part of our relationship. “You look amazing.” Nell didn’t pipe up, and when I turned to ask her opinion, she was passed out in her chair. “Thanks for coming in, Audrey, you made my day.”
    And it wasn’t just the money. She’d given me what the silver heads couldn’t give me because they were Nell’s people through and through. While fixing hair might seem like a one-way street when it comes to the giving, I’d missed the love and appreciation my own people always gave me.
    Audrey wrote me a check because Nell has never taken credit cards. It took her a couple of tries to get it right since it had been so long since she’d written one. She’d even forgotten she had her checkbook in her great big bag. She put it in the pickle jar and gave me a big hug.
    The shop bell over the door rang as Audrey left, waking Nell with a snort. “Everything go all right, sunshine?”
    There was fifty-four dollars in the pickle jar from the other clients. I opened Audrey’s check and gasped.
    “She stiff you on the tip?”
    I turned the check around so Nell could see. $85 plus a $50 tip—only $437.89 to go!
     

     
    Beck hadn’t slept at all last night. Why had he screwed up the plan? He was going to have a nice dinner, and make Rainey comfortable enough to let down her damn guard. But then he’d watched her eat the tiramisu. That smart mouth savoring the desert he’d created for her. The moment she sucked on the first brûléed slice of banana, he lost his mind and the plan went out the fucking window.
    If he wasn’t so stupid, he’d probably be with Rainey tonight, but he wasn’t. He’d worked hard, worked the whole staff ten times harder. All of his employees were angry with him for being such a dick tonight, but it wasn’t like he was going to explain to them that he was falling for a woman who was in love with someone else. Or was she?
    He’d watched her while she talked to the asshole, blushing when she lied to him—she wasn’t alone. And she definitely didn’t want to talk about him to Beck.
    He took a long draw off of his beer, and looked up at the stars. He’d always thought there wasn’t anything much better than a starry Big Sky night. The moonlight made the lake and the mountains look dreamlike, the night sounds were peaceful. But now he could think of a million things that were better than this view and everything single one of them began and ended with Rainey Brown.
    Was it the challenge he loved, to take her away from the asshole? Maybe. A little. And what would he do with her if he had her? Other than the obvious. It was clear Rainey Brown was a handful. Did he really want that? Did he really need that? But he must because he was driving himself fucking crazy, and there was nothing he could do about it.
    This wasn’t like him. Beck was a guy who craved control, anybody who runs their own restaurant does. He designed his place, decided everything, the menus, the wine, the staff, when they were open. Everything, right down to the kind of furniture polish they