Prima Donna (15 page)

“Of course not!”

“Did she ever hurt herself?”

“Seriously, Carter?” He’d heard plenty of chicks sigh before, but she huffed out enough air for all of them combined. “It’s been a long night and—”

“How many times?”

Seconds ticked by, but eventually she gave in and stopped gnawing on her bottom lip.

“Four.” Did she think it wouldn’t be true if she said it so quietly? “The first time was the night he left.”

“When was that?”

“Does it matter?” She turned so she was in profile to him, and gripped the back of the couch with both hands. No way. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think it does.”

She blew out a breath, then inhaled again, slowly, as though she was trying to fortify herself against it.

“New Year’s Eve.” Her voice broke over the last word, but she turned her gaze back to him and forced a smile, sad as it was. “Always on New Year’s Eve.”

“Christ. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Same reason I don’t tell anyone; it’s none of your business.”

“Jayne must know…”

There it was again, that same guilty wince she had when he went to her salon. “She knows some, but I haven’t told her everything.”

Before Carter could say anything, she jabbed her finger into his chest and forced him to stumble back a few steps.

“It’s my business, not Jayne’s or anyone else’s. It’s bad enough
you
know.”

“Why? It’s nothing to be ashamed of; it’s a disease, just like—”

“Ashamed?” She jolted upright and stared back at him with huge eyes. “I’m not ashamed of her—I love my mom! But she is the way she is because of me, and you can argue about that all you like; it’s a truth I live with every day. Do you really think it’ll make Jayne, or anyone else, happy to know what that feels like?
No
. All that would happen is they’d feel awkward, and they wouldn’t know what to say or do, so they’d eventually just…”

Her eyes blinked too fast to count, but she didn’t have to finish; Carter knew what she was going to say. They’d eventually just leave.

Her words sat like bricks in his gut, one on top of the other, weighing him down. She might be wrong about causing her mom’s illness, but she was bang-on about people dealing with it. How many buddies had he lost the year he got sick?

“Trust me,” he said. “No matter how bad things get with your mom, Jayne’ll never leave; she’s like a pit bull about things like that.”

“Maybe, but—” Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by his phone. Her frown faded, replaced by a slow, mocking grin. “
The Dukes of Hazzard?
Seriously? Whose ringtone is that?”

“Nick’s.”

She tipped her face up and he was once again struck by how green her eyes were. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

“No.”

“It might be important.”

“Then he can leave a message.”

When it finally went to voice mail, Regan focused her gaze on the coffee table, cleared her throat slowly, and spoke even slower.

“Look, Carter, I know I’m sounding ungrateful, and I’m sorry, I don’t mean to, but I’ll be fine, and I really do deal with this much better on my own.”

He took a step toward her, but she scrambled around the furniture so fast, she almost fell backward trying to get away from him.

“Please don’t.”

Carter stopped, hands raised, palms out. “I was just going to give you a hug.”

“I know,” she snorted, her eyes wide, her mouth tipped up in a twisted little grin. “But I’m having a seriously weak moment right now, and the last time I felt even marginally like this, you showed up at my door and…I really can’t afford for you to come one step closer right now.”

“I wouldn’t do anything to get you fired, Regan.”

“I know; I trust
you
.” Her laugh was a strangled choke from the back of her throat. “It’s me I don’t trust.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that. “So you’re just going to leave me standing here?”

“Damn right.” She moved around the couch a bit more, increasing the distance between them.

“Regan—”

Her smile faded, her mouth tightened. “Please, Carter. I’m fine. I just need some time alone.”

He wasn’t even a little bit convinced she was fine, but she had that look in her eyes again, the one that said she wasn’t about to give in to anything anyone might say, so what choice did he have?

“You’ll call me if you need anything?”

“Sure.”

He tipped his head a little and narrowed his gaze at her. “You’re not going to call me, are you?”

“Not a chance in Hell,” she laughed. “D’you think I’m stupid?”

Every second he stood there staring at her, she seemed to get more and more uncomfortable; the lip-chewing, the crossing and uncrossing of her arms, and the way she couldn’t look at him for more than a blink at a time.

“Then call Jayne,” he said. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Okay. Fine.”

Fine, his ass. She wouldn’t call anyone and they both knew it. Even after he was back at his own apartment helping Jules sort out the last of the boxes, he knew Regan would be home alone “dealing with it” on her own.

And that pissed him off more than anything.

“Can I make you a cup of tea, dear?”

“Love one, thanks.” The only time Regan ever drank tea was when she worked on Mrs. Goodsen’s hair, and even then, it wasn’t because she liked it, but because the old girl liked company with her tea.

While Mrs. G puttered in the kitchen, Regan organized herself in the living room near the long narrow credenza. She stretched an old plastic tablecloth out on the floor and set one of the chairs in the middle, facing the television so Mrs. G could watch reruns of
Storage Wars
while Regan did her hair.

“I just love that Barry. What a character.” Mrs. G shuffled out, set two rose-painted teacups on the table, and chuckled at the TV. “How are you liking your new job?”

“It’s only been a week, but it’s been great so far.”

“I’m sure it helps that your new bosses are both such handsome boys.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Regan laughed. “That’s for sure.”

She helped Mrs. G get settled, then got to work while the old woman sipped her tea.

“Does this mean you’re going to stop doing hair?”

“No, but it’ll take a while to find another place to rent so I can set up shop again.” She secured the cape, then reached for the spray bottle. “Just going to wet you down a little.”

“My Jack always said renting was what folks did when they were too scared to make a decision.” A soft smile lightened Mrs. G’s face at the mention of her late husband. “ ‘Shit or get off the pot,’ he’d say. Pardon my language.”

“Your Jack was a smart man.” Regan set the water down and reached for the curlers. Over the years, the woman’s hair had thinned out more and more, making it increasingly difficult to set nicely, but Regan would take whatever care needed to make it right. “When I found out I was losing my place, I looked around for something to buy, but the new places going up along the highway are too expensive and the ones downtown are so old, I’d go broke just trying to bring them up to code.”

“Some of those places are just disgraceful.” Mrs. G clicked her tongue in disgust. “Can’t you set up shop in your house?”

“I’m in an apartment, and there’s some kind of bylaw against it. If I had a house, that’d be different. All I’d need to do is get the permit to convert some of the space and then I’d be good to go.”

“So buy a house.”

“Right,” Regan snorted. “I’ll get right on that.”

“Little short on money, dear?”

“Little bit.” Okay, more than a little bit, but that was her business. “I was getting there, but some, um, unexpected bills came up.”

“Your mother?”

“Yeah.”

Mrs. Goodsen knew Regan was helping to pay for her mother’s care, but she didn’t know the details and she never asked. One more reason Regan loved her.

“You should go see Jeff at the bank.” Mrs. G twisted her head a little so she could look up at Regan. “He’ll help you out.”

“Yeah.” Regan winced. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

Mrs. G also didn’t need to know Regan had already been in to see Jeff and that he’d turned her down flat. Jeff Goodsen might share DNA with his grandmother, but he was nothing like her.

“Don’t get me wrong, dear, I appreciate your home service, but at my age, I don’t get out much, so it was always a treat to go down to your place.”

Regan sighed softly. She rather expected most of her clients felt the same way. Cutting and styling a woman’s hair in her own kitchen wasn’t relaxing for anyone; how could anyone possibly feel pampered when their phones were ringing, the kids were crying, and they were surrounded by a visual to-do list?

“We’ll get it back one day, Mrs. G.”

“I hope so.” Mrs. Goodsen nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the television. “For the love of God, somebody shut that Dave up before I give him something to ‘yup’ about!”

For the next little while, Regan
ooh
ed and
aah
ed over what people found in the storage lockers, while Mrs. G gave a running commentary on why she liked or didn’t like the people on the show. When Regan had finished setting her hair, she helped her over to the settee, then scurried around cleaning up the mess.

She tucked a green crocheted blanket around Mrs. G’s lap, then handed her a fresh cup of tea. Feet up, cups in hand, the two of them sat side by side and watched the rest of the episode before Mrs. G changed it over to the shopping channel, then muted it.

She shifted a little, resettled the blanket around her lap, and nodded at Regan. “Tell me, dear. Why aren’t you settled down and married to a nice boy?”

“Oooh.” Regan stuttered over a nervous laugh. “I’m not exactly the marrying kind.”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. G twirled the gold band around her thin crepey finger and smiled. “I didn’t think I would ever get married, either, but the day I met my Jack, I knew.”

“You knew? Just like that?”

“Oooh, yes.” There was a far-off twinkle in the old girl’s eye. “The first time that man kissed me, I thought my kneecaps had melted.”

It couldn’t have been more than a second or two that Regan stared back at her, not blinking, her mouth open in a small
o,
but it was long enough.

“Ah, you’ve felt it, too.” Mrs. Goodsen nodded, her eyes sparkling. “That’s him, dear. He’s the one.”

It took another second, but Regan finally managed a snort. “Sorry, Mrs. G, but I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“You mean besides the fact he’s not the settling-down kind, either?”

“Nonsense,” she repeated, the twinkle a little brighter now. “A kiss like that doesn’t happen with just anyone, dear, and it doesn’t happen for no reason.”

“Just because the man can kiss doesn’t mean we should start looking at china patterns.” Regan gathered up their dishes and carried them to the kitchen. “And he’d be the first to agree with me on that.”

“I’ll wash those, dear, just leave them.”

“That’s okay. It’ll just take me a minute.” And it would give her time to tamp down the crazy idea that Carter might be “the one.” She’d never believed in the idea of
anyone
being “the one” for her, and even though Mrs. G’s suggestion that Carter might be it wasn’t completely horrendous, it
was
completely unlikely.

Every day last week, she’d gone into work expecting him to do something—to wink, to touch her, or to make a comment about her hair—but he’d kept his distance. She’d caught him looking at her a couple times, but if she hadn’t been looking at him, she never would have noticed, so…besides, looking never hurt, right?

And there was no denying she liked looking at him, especially when he was working. Professional, kind, and melt-your-heart sweet with the kids, he made sure they were all smiles when they left his office, even after shots, and all the while he somehow managed to gently rebuff more than one mother whose tactics were slightly less than subtle.

Regan just rolled her eyes each time it happened, but when Amber Corrigan trapped him in the hallway this morning long after her son’s appointment, it was just too much. Stepping between them, Regan gave her very best Mary-Sunshine smile.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Dr. Scott has patients waiting. Is there anything I can help you with out front?”

“No,” Amber smiled, laying her hand on Carter’s arm. “We were just chatting about—”

“That’s nice,” Regan said. “But maybe you could just give him your phone number and he’ll call you when he has time.”

“Sure, that’d be great.” By the way Amber’s eyes lit up, you’d think she’d just struck gold. “Do you have a pen?”

“Out at my desk.” As she waved Amber out ahead of herself, Regan turned back to Carter, opened her eyes wide, and mouthed
Seriously?

Amber wrote out her name and number with the flourish of a thirteen-year-old, then handed the paper and pen back to Regan.

“Good,” Regan said, smiling up at Amber. “I’ll add it to his pile.”

“His pile?”

Completely dismissing her, Regan lifted another file and smiled at Carter’s next patient. “Adelle, Dr. Scott’s ready for you now.”

As she led Adelle and Rosie down the hall, she pressed the paper into Carter’s hand, then quietly cheered when he immediately tossed it in the recycle bin.

“Have a seat in my office,” he said to Adelle. “I’ll just be a second.”

By the time Regan made it back to her desk, Carter had texted her a picture of a white Life Saver with the words
thank you
underneath.

How something so silly could still make her smile so many hours later was beyond her.

“Are you okay in there, dear?” Mrs. Goodsen’s voice brought Regan back with a start.

“Y-yes, all done.” She helped Mrs. G back into the chair so she could take out the curlers and finish up. “Is there anything I can do for you before I go?”

“No, I’m all set, thank you.” She tucked her hand under Regan’s elbow and walked to the door with her. “Give your young man a chance, Regan. I hate to see a nice girl like you all alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Regan said, kissing her soft cheek. “I have lots of friends.”