Page 2 of Jam and Jingle Bells
“Wyoming is a friendly place, no?” I walked him to the salon chair and he sat, allowing me to wrap a cape around his neck while I towel-dried his floppy mess of hair. I worked a comb through the tresses while I decided on a style that would suit him.
“Wyoming is friendly for the most part, but there are pockets that aren’t. Like any state, I would imagine.”
“I suppose that’s true,” I agreed. “How long have you been in town?”
“Since April, but the studio has only been open for a few weeks.”
Ah, that explains why I hadn’t heard about him,I thought.With prom season in full swing, I hadn’t left the salon in weeks.
“Main Street is so…” He motioned his hand around under the cape while searching for the right word.
“Quaint?” I sectioned off more hair and clipped it out of the way.
“Yep,” he answered. “I can tell it’s a town you’ll either love or hate. So far, I love it.”
“Now that’s the best compliment you could ever give us as Bells Passers,” I promised, patting his shoulder. “When was the last time you had a haircut?”
“I think it was February,” he answered, his hand motioning at his hair. “I know I’ve let this go way too long.”
I tossed my head back and laughed happily. “You’re absolutely right on that account, but no worries, you’ve come to the right place. We’ll have you cleaned up in no time. Do you want to keep the length?”
“Yes, please,” he answered immediately. “I want it trimmed and styled, but the length has to stay.”
“Got it.” I stepped back and chewed on my lip. “This is real, isn’t it?” I asked, stymied.
“Definitely not a wig.” He laughed but didn’t make eye contact in the mirror.
“No, I mean not from a bottle.”
His hand snuck out from under the cape and smoothed a piece of the shocking white hair. “Nope, it’s real. I woke up one morning and my hair was turning white. I was sixteen.”
What he didn’t say was that whatever happened when he was sixteen was the reason his hair turned white.
“I like it. I really do. It’s regal and gives you an air of a distinguished gentleman. No wonder the kids like you so much,” I said, patting his shoulder. “If I could make one suggestion?” He nodded once, still not making eye contact. “The length. I know you have the whole yoga look going with the hair pulled back in a band thing, but I see a more refined you hiding under there. I see a young, successful business owner who has the sweetest eyes in the world and who cares about his students. Unfortunately, the whole hippie seventies look is holding you back.”
More like he’s hiding behind it but I wasn’t going to be that brazen this early on.
He swallowed and smoothed the hair down with his hand. “I don’t know, Addie. I’ve worn it long for years.”
I nodded while I futzed with the locks. “I can see that, but here’s the thing. Hair grows, so if you don’t like it, you can always grow it out again.”
“True.” He bit his lip with uncertainty. “I am kind of tired of the constant upkeep with it. I’m always hot in the studio, too. What did you have in mind?”
I explained what I was thinking while he continued to chew on his lip, nervously taking stock of himself in the mirror. He finally released his lip and nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”
I stepped up to the chair again and lifted my scissors. “Get ready. I’m about to transform you into someone you won’t even recognize.”
My scissors snipped what my mind’s eye crafted. I had a vision of a young, sexy yoga instructor I wouldn’t mind seeing more often.
Chapter One
Six Months Later
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving this year?” Heather asked, flipping through a magazine while spinning in her salon chair.
“I’m going with my mom and Stan to the community Thanksgiving dinner. Mel and Mason help there every year and have a ball. I decided I would offer free haircuts to the kids. Want to come and help?”
She shrugged indifferently. “Sure, why not. I have nothing else to do until I have to be at Mom’s house at five. I’ll bring my tools and we’ll have the kids spiffed up for Santa in no time.”
