Page 120 of Lemon Crush

“She does give great mystery,” I conceded, because who hadn’tread Nora? “I was never any good at that. And my story isnothinglike her work, B.”

Chick nodded. “That’s true. Less decorating and cooking. Bigger bursts of sex in multiple positions.”

“I like the sound of that,” Tony murmured, sending an interested grin in Bernie’s direction. Or Chick’s. From my vantage point it was hard to tell.

But Bernie definitely looked more intrigued instead of less. “I may have started with Nora, but I’m currently into the kinkier end of the spectrum. Lots of motorcycle bad boys and hockey players. One series I stumbled onto was a free read about farmers in Nebraska, of all places, having BDSM threesomes. So dirty. I ate that up like candy.”

“Nebraska, you say? I’ve always wanted to go there,” Chick said with a wide smile. “But August is right that this might not be your cuppa. It was inspired by a tall, gorgeous family man who works on cars, appreciates strong women and is so together he’s the definition of competence porn. It’s hot as a wildfire and funny as hell but…”

“But I don’t want to read about my brother. I hear you. Doesn’t mean I can’t tell all my friends and students about it when it’s published. He might get a lot of new female business at the garage.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

Tony set aside his scissors and turned my chair around to face him. “Time for styling,” he said, bringing a few bottles over to his tray. “You wrote a romance about herbrother? Color me intrigued. Do you have a pen name and are you going to put it on BookTok? If so, I’ll share it.”

“Ohmygod.” I covered my face with my hands asBookTokkept reverberating through my skull. I had a hard time taking selfies, and they expected me to make one of those clever, funny little videos? “Can we stop talking about this?”

“She’ll be fine,” Chick assured them. “She sucks at social media and suffers from a raging case of imposter syndrome. She’ll get over it.”

“You’re making it sound like an STD,” I muttered through my hands as Tony started coating every curl on my head with product.

By the time he finished drying my hair with a diffuser and scrunching here and there with a look of concentration on his face, they’d discussed more authors than I’d ever heard of and debated the new alternatives for promotion, since some rich asshole had broken Twitter and ruined everyone’s fun.

Tony was remarkably social media savvy.

Maybe that’s why I hadn’t objected when he took a little electric eyebrow trimmer to my brows and the spot on my chin that we never spoke about in public because it grew hair now and please let’s forget I ever said anything about that.

Ahem.

“There we go.”

Chick whistled. “That’s my sunshine. Look at you, beautiful.”

Tony turned me back toward the mirror and…wow. I hadn’t seen that woman in a while.

The changes weren’t that dramatic. My hair still curled to my shoulders, but it looked healthier, bouncier, and there wasn’t a trace of frizz in sight, despite the humidity. The cut also made my face look a teensy bit younger for some miraculous reason I wasn’t going to question.

I smiled at Tony. “I love it.”

“You look amazing,” he said with a gratified expression. “You’ll need to come back every three months and use the leave-in conditioner I’m going to sell you. I’ll give you a discount if you sign a book for me.”

“Deal.”

Bernie tipped her head to the side as she stared at my curls andthen pulled her long braid over her shoulder. “Do you cut wavy hair too? I’m thinking it might be time for a change.”

I snickered. “I must look good,” I told him. “She never lets anyone touch her hair. She trims it herself.”

If Tony’s horrified expression was any indication, his potential romance with Bernie was DOA.

I bought the conditioner and made an appointment for three months, and then we were back in the car, with Bernie behind the wheel again.

“I can’t stop touching it.” I said as I felt the springing curls bounce in my hand.

“That’s what we wanthimto say.”

Bernie laughed at Chick’s quick comeback. “Funny, but seriously, stop touching it. We have food to order and a puppy to pick up before you get home and change into one of your new outfits.”

“I feel like I’m trying too hard.” When I thought about tonight, my shoulders knotted and my stomach roiled into one gigantic ball of anxiety.

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