Page 45 of Touchdown
The Color Loft looked more like a team pep rally than a place of business. Every chair had someone in it, and laughter filled the air.
“Red streaks for everyone!” Missy called over the noise, flipping her clipboard with mock authority. “If you’re not at least 30 percent team spirit by the end of your appointment, I’m sending you home for a do-over.”
Someone yelled, “What about glitter?”
Missy groaned. “Absolutely not. I’m the one who’d be stuck cleaning it up, and that stuff sticks to everything.”
Across the room, Lorna bounced from side to side with Caroline strapped to her chest. “You add glitter, and Cole will threaten to make me mop the floors myself. He’s still traumatized from the confetti debacle at the baby shower.”
I smiled to myself, sectioning Dakota’s hair so I could add a red extension for a pop of color. “We’re all going to blind the camera crews tomorrow.”
“That’s the goal,” Finley teased. “We might as well look good while we cheer on our men.”
“With lots of team spirit,” Rory added.
The buzz of easy conversation filled the air, the kind that made the salon feel more like a living room full of friends than a workplace. A year ago, I never could’ve imagined being a part owner in a thriving salon, surrounded by women who had become family, and with a man who loved me fiercely enough to weather anything.
I brushed a loose strand of hair off my cheek and caught Lorna’s eye in the mirror. She was smiling at me, a knowing glint in her gaze.
“You okay?” she mouthed.
“Perfect,” I mouthed back with a grin.
“Look at our honorary MVP,” Talia announced a little later, gesturing toward me. “You’re glowing, Ivy. That’s not fair to the rest of us mere mortals.”
I rolled my eyes, but my grin gave me away. “Pretty sure that’s just from standing too close to the dryers.”
Lorna laughed. “You’re allowed to admit it, you know. You’re growing the next generation of Nighthawks just like the rest of us have done.”
That earned another round of coos and teasing.
“Rumor has it,” Dakota singsonged, “that you and Saxon have been house hunting on Long Island. Gotta make room for the nursery, right?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I get why it makes sense, but it’s going to be hard to lose the hustle and bustle of the city. There’s just something special that I feel when I walk down the streets, especially on the Upper East Side.” I groaned. “We haven’t even moved yet, but I already miss being able to walk to get anything I’m craving. Now, if I want a midnight milkshake, I’ll have to beg Saxon to find a place still open.”
Lorna snorted. “Please. That man would drive to Pennsylvania if you so much as hinted you wanted ice cream.”
“She’s not wrong,” Missy chimed in from the desk. “We’ve all seen the dessert deliveries.”
The laughter swelled again, and I just soaked in the warmth and sense of belonging that had grown out of all the chaos.
Lorna moved next to me and poked me in the side. “At least we’ll be close. Our kids will grow up together. Neighbors and cousins in spirit.”
The image of barefoot kids running through backyard sprinklers made something sweet and achy bloom in my chest. I could already picture the barbecues in summer, with laughter echoing between houses. “Do you think we can bribe someone on your street into selling their house to us?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past our husbands.” Lorna shook her head with a laugh. “Maybe one of us should suggest it.”
“Suggest what?” a familiar deep voice asked before warm lips teased my neck.
I turned to smile up at Saxon. “How did you sneak in here without me noticing?”
His gaze swept the room, and he arched a brow. “It’s busy as fuck, Sunshine.”
“Good point.”
He lifted a white paper bag. “I brought you a vanilla shake with extra fries.”
“See,” Lorna squealed. “You don’t need to worry about getting the shakes you like when you move here. Saxon is ten steps ahead of your cravings.”
