He hung his coat on one of the wall hooks and then bounded over as if she’d given him a prize. “How’s business?”
She adjusted the chair, not looking in the mirror to see his eager eyes. “Quiet.”
“I don’t understand why,” he said in a cheerful voice. “Everyone loves you.”
That was nice of him. She gave him a faint smile and put the pink cape over him. “I’m sure it’s just a temporary thing,” she said, though her heart was heavy at the thought. “It’s bound to pick up again.”
“I’m sure…unless….” He paused.
Oh, here we go. She stopped spritzing his hair, comb poised over his head. “What?”
“Unless people are avoiding you because you’ve taken up with one of the Waggoners.”
She groaned. “Allan, don’t start this again.”
He caught her hand. “Beth Ann, I just worry about you. You’re wearing revealing clothing, you’re making out with trailer-park trash in public, and you’ve dyed your hair pink.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand what’s gotten into you.”
She pulled her wrist from his grasp and began to comb his hair, avoiding looking in the mirror. “For one thing, I like my clothing. For two, it’s one pink streak, not an entire head of pink hair. And three, we weren’t making out in public. It’s not my fault you were following me.” Her hard gaze swept up to the mirror. “Why do you care so much anyway? Remember? I’m a lousy lay.”
He flinched, and she was pleased. “I only said that to get at him.”
“Mmm-hmm. How long did it take for those two black eyes to heal?”
“He’s lucky I didn’t press charges,” Allan said in a sulky voice.
“No, you’re lucky he didn’t press charges,” she said, almost cheerfully. She began to cut his hair, carefully lifting a section and snipping. Petty, passive-aggressive Allan she could deal with. It was expected.
It was when he wept and begged for forgiveness that she couldn’t handle it. “I like Colt. And I’m going to keep seeing him.”
“You’re not just being rebellious to get back at me? Picking the guy I hate the most so you can stab a knife in my back? I saw you with him. His hands under your skirt and touching you…” He shuddered. “It turns my stomach every time I think about it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
“I’m not. Everyone in town can’t stop talking about how it’s not right that you’re with him. They think we should be together.”
They thought that because she’d kept her mouth shut about his cheating. She’d told no one—not even her parents—why she’d finally broke up with Allan. And despite it being such a small town, oddly enough, it hadn’t gotten out. Allan was careful when he cheated, and Beth Ann was careful to keep his secrets because they embarrassed her.
No one knew why they’d finally broken up, just that they had. Beth Ann hadn’t wanted to destroy his character in town—that didn’t seem fair to a man she’d spent nine years with. And she didn’t hate him, not really. She was just disappointed in him, and in herself most of all for putting up with it for so long.
Allan gave her a solemn look in the mirror. “You know I still love you and I want you back.”
Now they were getting back to uncomfortable territory. She shook her comb at him. “Allan, honey, I am allowing you to sit in this chair and let me cut your hair because you weren’t declaring love for me. Do it one more time and I’m going to cut you a Mohawk.”
He gave her a sulky look in the mirror, and she almost smiled. He looked like a sad little boy now. “I just want what’s best for you.”
“Trust me to know what’s best for me,” she said lightly, cutting his hair again. But the seed of doubt had sprouted.
Was she being ostracized by the town because of her relationship with Colt? Did everyone think she was cheating on Allan? That was ridiculous to think about. Still, Colt was convinced everyone in town hated his family. She knew they curled their lips when one of his loud, drunk brothers showed up and caused a scene, but what town didn’t have a few odd people? The Waggoners didn’t have money and some of them didn’t have manners, but they were just people.
And surely this town wasn’t small enough that who she dated was going to matter that much…
Did it?
Allan behaved long enough for her to finish cutting his hair, and he’d even tried to make small conversation, talking about the Halloween parade and his plans for it. He always did the parade, since his business loaned out the cars for some of the parade members to ride in. His boyish enthusiasm was hard to resist, and she mentioned a few of the plans she had for the Festival—a costume pageant, trophies for the children, a cake walk, and face-painting booths to bring a little cash to the committee. He liked all her ideas, which surprised her.
When his haircut was done, he stood and took a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet, and pressed it into her hand.
Her throat grew knotted. “I can’t break this, Allan.”
“I know you can’t,” he said softly. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. She wanted to pull away, but he didn’t press more than that. “I just want to help, is all.”
That sour feeling clenched in her stomach again. He was giving her extra because he knew she was failing. And that made her want to scream in frustration—not at him, because he was just being typical, big-gesture Allan.
At herself, for being the one that was failing.
“I can’t take this, Allan.”
“Nonsense—” he began.
“I can’t change it,” she repeated, and held it back out to him.
“I know,” he said again, and she wondered if he’d brought the big bill in deliberately. Just another quiet, subtle manipulation on his part, or something else?
She nodded at Kurt’s Koffee across the street. “Then buy me a coffee and change it out over there.”
He did, and they took their coffees over to the committee meeting. To her relief, he didn’t sit next to her, and the meeting seemed to go well enough. She noticed a few of the committee members watching her curiously, as if they were trying to figure her out. As if they knew a bit more about her personal life and were trying to peg her back into that easy, understandable slot once more.