I have to witness them making dinner together. How annoying.
Miserable and dejected, I slowly turned away and being extremely careful not to fall over a rock this time, I walked back through the woods to my car. What did I expect? That River was going to be home alone and miserable, just like me? Of course not, I was the last thing on his mind, I knew that.
Driving home, I felt worse than ever. I wished I had never stumbled into his life. I wished I had never fallen face first into the parking lot asphalt in front of him and his stupid biker friends. I wished I hadn't fallen in love with his stupid blue eyes and the way he looked at me in the morning. But it was all too late, and in addition to being certifiably crazy, I was now certifiably ridiculous.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
By the time I returned home, I was determined to be done with him. I would simply forget he existed. I would go back to my salon, get back on my feet, and be finished with all of this bullshit. What was I ever thinking chasing some asshole who, despite being fine as hell, was ruder than anyone had ever been to me in my life? That was just it. I hadn't been thinking. But now I was. No more whimpering needy woman dressing for attention. No more airhead who followed people around without thinking it through first.
And no more bikers! If I needed a fix of the heady scent of leather and whiskey, I would stay home with a bottle and my own black leather jacket!
Drifting off to sleep that night, I pushed away all the memories of River and Colby and those two stupid Barbie girls and concentrated on what I could do to help my salon make some much needed cash.
When I woke up the next morning, I had it all figured out.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Bells rang over my head as I opened the door to the greasy spoon diner a few blocks from my shop. Red and blue fliers filled my backpack and I was exhausted from walking around the neighborhood for the last few hours and passing them out, carefully avoiding the Outlaws clubhouse. My stomach growled as I took a seat at the bar and opened a menu.
“Whatcha havin', sugar?”
The haggard old man behind the counter stared at me over his bifocals, a pad in hand, and his pen suspended in mid-air as he waited for me to decide.
“A bacon cheeseburger and a coke, please.”
“You want fries with that, darlin'?”
I nodded and he walked away. I appreciated his no nonsense attitude. I had been frantically working on my shop the last week, and had made huge changes by adopting that very same attitude. I had decided to turn my hair salon into a barber shop. I had learned everything I needed to know in beauty school, and I was thankful now for those shaving classes that were required to graduate.
Services would include cuts, hot towel, close neck shaves, and a free beer, bourbon, scotch, or soda to each customer.
Men would be easy to market to and easy to provide for. I figured they would be low-maintenance, and after a quick search through the phone book to confirm my suspicions, I saw there wasn't much to compete with. My target audience would be older men who would appreciate a traditional barber cut.
At the very least, it was worth a try. My dwindling bank account was a constant reminder that I needed to do something, and fast.
The vintage barber pole, used leather sofas, new dark paint and all the extra supplies I needed maxed out my credit cards, but I didn't blink an eye. I closed up shop for a week, drew the curtains, turned up the music, and spent the week alone painting and redecorating the place. I even changed the sign on the door – Dixie's Cut and Curl changed to Dixie's Gentleman's Parlour. After placing a few ads in the papers announcing the grand opening, I was nervous, but determined to make it successful.
I managed to avoid the clubhouse entirely. Once I had made my decision, and after seeing River with those two