The Trouble With Lacy Brown (9 page)

L
acy had been working hard in the salon for three days since Clint rescued her from the flash flood. Thanks to his ranch hands, the painting had been done in record time and the windows had been washed and shined. J.P. had helped Sheri hang the light fixtures straight, then Lacy had whitewashed the beat up wood floor. The ragged building now looked like a new place. It had a welcoming ambiance that pleased Lacy. All it needed was a bit of wallpaper, a couple of shampoo bowls hooked up and a mirror hung, and they would be ready for business.

Though he had sent his cowhands to help, Clint hadn’t come back into town since that stormy night. It had probably been for the best, because she hadn’t been able to get him off her mind. There were quite a few things about that night that she couldn’t forget. The
kiss, the way he’d held her, the way she’d felt when he’d held her. But the way she’d felt when he’d reached into that surging water and pulled her from danger was the kicker. Everything in her perspective had shifted after that experience. She’d already had trouble getting the picture of him standing in the center of the road the day of their first meeting out of her head, his chin tucked to his chest, his head cocked so that his dark gaze angled upward at her as he asked if she was looking for a husband. Now, that question replayed in her mind like a chant.

She had been in Mule Hollow just shy of two weeks and already her thoughts were straying from her mission. It really bothered her that she could be so fickle. She
so
wanted to stay the course.

Today, as she spread paste on an eight-foot length of wallpaper, her thoughts were churning. She was relieved when the salon door opened behind her.

“Yoo-hoo, Lacy.”

“Adela,” she called over her shoulder, recognizing the singsong voice. “How’s it going?”

“Wonderful. Just wonderful. How lovely it looks in here.”

“You think so?” Paper up, Lacy stepped back, plopped her hands on her hips and admired her handiwork. “I’ve never hung paper before so I was excited to try something new. It’s easier than I expected.”

“You have the knack.”

“I wouldn’t say that—-but it has been fairly easy.”

“Have you done it all yourself?”

“Oh no, no, no. Sheri has helped big-time—she’s just gone over to Pete’s for more paste. I bought this paper before I left Dallas, and I didn’t think about paste. Thank goodness Pete had some, but I think it had been there for a while. I hope it’s still good.” She spread paste on the next sheet of paper then folded it together, like the instructions said.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. It looks as if it’s sticking.” Adela ran a hand over the soft pink and white striped paper and nodded.

“What’s up?” Lacy picked up the new length of paper and maneuvered her way to the wall.

Adela followed her. “I came to tell you that the apartments are in complete upheaval right now, but the contractor assures me that a couple of them will be ready in time for the fair. The electricians are there now, running wire for the small kitchens, and the contractors have started cutting out openings between rooms that will connect into living and dining spaces. It is amazing what can happen in a matter of days when people are motivated.”

“You must have done some mighty powerful motivating.” Lacy paused and smiled at Adela. Adela might have been small and serene looking, but behind that exterior, there was a very aggressive go-getter.

“I have a few connections in Ranger, great friends
of the family, and they were glad to help out, especially when they’d had another job fall through and needed to keep their men working. God has a way of clearing agendas when the time is right.”

“So true, Adela.”

“Lacy, I also came to tell you that we had a call a few minutes ago from a young woman who is coming out from Hollywood to see about opening a dress store. Hollywood. Can you imagine?”

Lacy spun toward Adela. “You mean to tell me you didn’t come barging in here screaming with excitement about this? You amaze me, Adela! Does anything ruffle your feathers?”

Adela’s eyes twinkled. “My feathers are ruffled. I’m extremely excited.”

Lacy laughed. “Yeah, I can tell.”

“I explained to her that at the moment a dress store might be a bit out of the question.” Adela’s eyes sparkled more brightly. “However we eventually expected to have a large demand for just that kind of shop.”

“And,” Lacy prompted when Adela frowned.

“She assured me that she expected a slow beginning. She said part of her business is done on the Internet and it really didn’t matter if the foot traffic was slow in town for a little while.”

“Excellent. When is she arriving?”

“In two weeks, just in time for the fair. I explained it would be the event of the summer and she would
want to attend before going back to the city and making her decision.”

“Adela, you are too cool,” Lacy said, returning to work. The paste had set on the panel she was working on and it was time to spread the paper on the wall.

“Yes, well, thank you. Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m positive.”

“Then I’ll see you later. I’m off to see Pete about donating supplies to decorate the street. Oh, by the way, I thought the vacant building beside you would be the perfect spot for the dress shop.”

“I agree,” Lacy called over her shoulder, unable to spare a glance as she started working.

“Tootles, dear.”

“Tootles to you, too,” Lacy said absently as she smoothed the paper, concentrating on getting all the lines straight. When she finished, she backed away and surveyed her work. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

The door opened behind her.

“What do you think, Sheri? With the other paper up, this is going to look great.”

“If you like pink.”

Lacy swung around to find Clint Matlock frowning at the wall. She was shocked at the rush of joy that flowed over her. Shocked and dismayed at the same time.

“You don’t like pink?” She willed her heart to slow
down and her mouth to smother the smile that was trying to erupt from it.

“Nope. Can’t say that I do, but it’s obvious we disagree on the subject.” He looped his thumb though the belt loop of his right hip. “Is everything you touch going to be pink?”

Lacy couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled out of her. “Not everything. I like pink because it’s a happy color.”

“Not always.” Clint lifted his hat from his head and slowly lowered his chin so that the top of his head was exposed. “Like I said the other night, it’s not my color.”

Lacy gasped. “Clint, you have
pink hair!
”

“As if I didn’t know that,” he said dryly. “And it doesn’t make me happy.”

Lacy hurried over to stare at his hair. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this the night of the storm. But, now that I think about it, you never once removed your hat. As a matter of fact, I remember you yanking on it all night to keep it in place.”

“You better believe it. Since this has happened, I’ve worn my hat everywhere except to bed. Do you know what kind of teasing I’d get if word got out that I have pink hair?”

Lacy laughed. “Oh, my, the world as we know it would end.”

Clint relaxed against the door frame. “The question is, can you help me?”

Lacy reached up and touched the stiff patch of hair. Like the crown of a rooster’s head it was a three by two section of hair sitting smack on the top of his head. It was quite cute. “You know you could just leave it and start a new trend.” Clint lowered his chin and gave her that look she’d come to adore. “Okay, maybe not.”

“I tried everything I thought was safe. I’ve showered more times than I can count. Been through a rainstorm—”

“That doesn’t count,” Lacy broke in. “You kept the hat on, remember.” Giving into the notion, she gave the swatch of hair a gentle tug.

“Hey! Watch out.”

Lacy laughed and turned away to move toward the shampoo bowl that was leaning against the back wall.

Clint followed. “I’m getting desperate enough to pour gasoline over my head. Tomorrow is Sunday and I don’t usually wear my hat during services.”

“I’ll get it out for you.” She was glad to do something for him. He had, after all, saved her from uncertain disaster. “All I need is my shampoo bowls hooked up and we’re in business.”

Clint eyed the equipment. “I’m handy with a wrench. I’ll install the bowls if you guarantee you can make me look normal again.”

Placing her hand on her heart she said somberly, “I promise.”

“It’s a done deal. I’ll go out to my truck and get some tools, then we’ll get started.”

After carefully placing his Stetson back on his head and giving it a secure tug, Clint strode from the salon. Lacy watched him go, fighting laughter and the strong urge to run up behind him on the street and tip the hat off his head.

Oh, Lacy, you do have a mean streak in you.

“What’s Clint up to?” Sheri asked as she came in, empty-handed.

“He’s going to install my shampoo bowls.”

“He’s going to help you install shampoo bowls! You who crashed his Jeep, made him run his truck into a ditch, had him trudging all over his pastures in the middle of a flash flood.” Her eyes were wide in disbelief.

“Yes. He’s being neighborly.”

“Yeah, right,” Sheri snapped. “The man is interested, Lace.” She thumped a fake cigar in punctuation and wiggled her eyebrows.

“Well, Groucho, I’m not.” Lacy stuffed some unused wallpaper into the trash bin and ignored the kick her heart gave her ribs.

“Whatever you say, girlfriend, but I think you’re crazy as a Betsy bug. Look, Pete has no more paste, so I thought I’d ride to Ranger and pick up some new paste.”

“Now? Ranger is sixty miles away.”

Sheri tucked her hands into her back pockets. “I know.”

“Then what’s up?”

“J.P. has a load of cattle to deliver to the auction barn and wanted to know if I’d ride along.”

Lacy stared at her friend. “This is getting to be a pretty heavy thing between you two.”

“Not too heavy. I’m holding up just fine.”

“Sher—”

“Lace, stop. I’m not the one with the hang-up about men. J.P. is a very nice guy. He’s fun. And, girl, can he kiss.”

“Sheri, this is serious.”

“Yes, it is, Lacy. You need to lighten up. That’s serious. Now, while I’m gone, instead of worrying over me, why don’t you worry about that handsome man who’s going to be working beside you for the next hour?” Sheri backed out the door, grinning. “This is a good thing, Lacy. Remember that. A good thing. You didn’t like me standing on the sidelines growing up. Well, I don’t like you standing there, either. It isn’t right. So loosen up and make a new friend.”

Lacy watched her jog down the road to where J.P. leaned against the side of his truck. He had one leg braced against the metal fender and he looked happy watching Sheri jog up to meet him. When she came to a halt before him he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and escorted her to the truck, where he opened the
door and helped her climb into the cab. A twinge of envy at their carefree attitude swept through Lacy. She turned away, shutting the emotion down. She wasn’t ready yet to trust her heart to a man. Not that easily. Not that carefree. Still she envied her friend her ability to do so.

“Okay, that should do it,” Clint said about an hour later. Dusting his hands off on his jeans he stood and put his wrench in his back pocket.

“Perfect,” Lacy said. “That means I’m practically open for business.”

“Me first.”

Lacy laughed as he pulled off his hat and exposed his pink hair. “Yes, you are definitely my first client. Everybody else will have to wait until Tuesday morning.”

“I have to say, you’ve done a great job in here. I never thought you could do it in this short time, but the place looks good. You’re going to need help with those mirrors, aren’t you?” He nodded toward the two large mirrors leaning against the brick wall.

“Yes, they’re really heavy,” Lacy admitted. She wasn’t keen on more help from him. She’d become increasingly agitated working beside him installing the shampoo bowls. More times than she could count, their hands had brushed each other as she passed him tools, or held this or that for him.

“I’ll hang them,” he offered, interrupting her thoughts. “After—” He lowered his head and pointed at his hair.

Shrugging off her worries, Lacy smiled then dragged a shampoo chair over in front of the basin. “Sit.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Lacy bit her lip and met his twinkling gaze, forcing herself to concentrate on getting the right stripping product out of the cabinet. The only problem was as she bent to scrub his mass of hair, he watched her. Their faces were only a few feet away from each other as she bent into the job of scrubbing. To her dismay, it took two different stripping products, and much longer than she’d hoped, to get out the paint. She was overjoyed when at last she was able to declare him paintless. “Praise the Lord, you’re a free man,” she said, patting his hair down with a towel before letting him stand up.

And I’m a free woman.

Her nerves were jittering as she moved quickly away to stand by the front counter. She needed distance between them. She needed perspective on the feelings that were churning around inside her.

He crossed the room, and she watched him lean over and eye himself in the mirror. “Thank you,” he said, moving toward her. “I could kiss you for this,” he teased.

Lacy tapped her nails on the front counter. “We—we don’t need to get carried away.”

Clint took another step toward her. “If you knew how important it was to
not
have pink hair…you would understand my pleasure.” He took another step toward her, mischief dancing in his eyes.

Lacy tapped her fingers harder.

“I’ve had you on my mind all week.” His voice sombered.

They’d managed to skirt the minor problem of their emotions all afternoon and oh, how she wished he’d kept it that way. Denial was so unlike her, she who met things straight on. But this, this she was not ready to handle.

“You have?” she squeaked. Confused, thrilled.

His eyes twinkled down at her. “I’m only human. It was an eventful night.”