As Dust Dances (Play On 2)

Autumn drove, begging me to wonder what she used to do for a job.

“This was a great idea,” Charmaine said as she took her scissors to my hair. I watched as my new layered look came together, and I had to agree. “It really suits your face shape.”

When she was done, I marveled at the difference a haircut could make.

I’d boldly asked Charmaine to cut most of it off. Now my hair was cut short at the nape and fell in an A-line cut to just below my chin. It felt healthy and full, sharp and modern. She’d also added ash-blonde highlights to give it more dimension.

The sharpness of the cut served to soften the angles of my face.

“All done.” Charmaine held up a mirror so I could see how she’d cut it shorter at the back than at the front. I loved it.

“It’s great, thank you.” I gave her a genuine smile.

“Let’s show Autumn.”

She helped me out of the cape, brushing excess hair off my nape, and then I followed her out into the front where Autumn was drinking herbal tea and reading a magazine. She glanced up and immediately froze.

“Is that a good or bad deer-in-the-headlights look?” I asked.

Autumn promptly set her tea and magazine on the coffee table and got up to stride over to me for a better look. Her eyes brightened before she broke out into a huge smile. “It’s perfect! Absolutely perfect.”

I smiled, feeling a little shy about it. “I just . . . I wanted a big change.”

“It was the right move. God,” she assessed my face, “you’ve got great bone structure.”

“Doesn’t she? I love when someone is willing to take a risk like this. It usually pays off.”

“You did a great job,” Autumn acknowledged. “Thank you. Killian will be pleased.”

Charmaine gave her a wolfish grin. “Anything to please Killian.”

“Ugh.” Autumn made a face. “Charmaine, please.”

“Your brother is sexy. Deal with it.”

She rolled her eyes and looped her arm through mine to lead me out of the salon. “I’ll tell him you said so.”

“Please do!” she called after us.

I waved at her over my shoulder in thanks, wondering about payment. I wondered it out loud to Autumn as we got in her car.

“Oh, Killian will pay for it. Charmaine will send him an invoice.”

I nodded and sat listening to Autumn gush over my new hair and the outfits she could now see me in because of it. When she finally took a breath, I asked, “What did you do for a living before . . . this?”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Well, I tried to set up a catering company with my ex-boyfriend. He was supposed to run the company, manage all the business stuff, and I would do the cooking and baking. But he stole my money and created an investment portfolio with it. Because I didn’t stipulate legally what the money was for when I authorized the transfer of funds to him, I have no proof that he stole the money. I could have taken him to court but it would have been lengthy and stressful. Killian was mad I didn’t do it.”

“No wonder. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” She smiled brightly. “I’m over it. I just started seeing someone new and he’s . . . different. A gentleman through and through. We’ve gone on three dates and he hasn’t even pushed for sex yet. And he has more money than me, so I know he’s not after that.”

“I’m glad.” And I was. Autumn was sweet. She wore her heart on her sleeve. She deserved someone who would be gentle with it.

“Plus, Killian took care of Barry. My ex,” she explained.

“How so?”

“He ruined him. I don’t know the hows and I don’t want to know.” She shot me a pained look. “You know how people say karma will get you . . . well, if you treat me badly, Killian is the karma that gets you.”

An ache streaked across my chest, so deep that I lifted my good hand to soothe it away. It was jealousy, I realized, shocked. What must it be like to have someone care about you that fiercely? To have someone like O’Dea, who was cold with everyone else, treat you like you were all that mattered?

Once upon a time, my mom had been that person. My fierce protector.

I closed my eyes tight. She kept invading my thoughts, breaking through.

“Talk about something else,” I insisted, needing a distraction. “Anything.”

“Oh.” Autumn’s brows pinched together in worry, but she said, “I saw these amazing Kurt Geiger platforms for you. Do you wear heels?”

My smile was grim but relieved. “How high are they?”

“WELL?” AUTUMN ASKED.

She’d driven me back to the apartment and insisted on waiting for O’Dea to come over so she could see his reaction to my transformation.

If I wasn’t mistaken, he’d stumbled a little when he first saw me as he walked into the living area of the apartment, so I know the haircut took him by surprise. Good surprise or bad surprise, I didn’t know, because he’d immediately started making himself a coffee with only a casual “hello” thrown our way.

Autumn stood in the middle of the sitting room with her arms crossed over her chest, watching him impatiently as he moved around the kitchen. I sat on the sofa, not acknowledging the flare of agitation I felt at his lack of response. I stared out at the river, pretending I couldn’t care less what he thought.

And I couldn’t care less!

He was an ass.

“Well what?” he asked, coming around the island with his coffee.

His sister gestured at me. “Skylar’s hair.”

“It’s fine.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Fine?”

O’Dea expelled one of his exasperated sighs. “Autumn, Skylar and I have work to do.”

She glared at him. “Fine.”

The glare melted from her face, softening to a sweet smile as she bent down to press a kiss to my temple.

The affectionate gesture startled me and I couldn’t help but smile at her in return. “I’ll see you later. Call me if you need anything?”

“Call you how?” O’Dea stepped forward with a scowl.

“I gave her a phone, big brother.” She kissed his cheek. “Brenna wants to check in with her, and it might be good for Skylar to start checking in with the world again.”

She’d suggested I ease myself into googling the band members so I wouldn’t be caught unawares later. But the thought made my stomach clench. Moreover, I didn’t want to tell her because the phone was thoughtful, but the idea of being reachable, being “tagged” by a cell phone again made me squirm.

“And did you check if Skylar was ready for a phone?” O’Dea asked, surprising me with the considerate thought.

“If Skylar is ready? Or if you’re ready for Skylar to have the independence of a phone?”

“Skylar is sitting right here,” I muttered.

O’Dea heard me. “Do you want a phone?”

I shrugged, still not wanting to hurt Autumn’s feelings.

“She doesn’t want a phone,” he surmised. “Give me the phone.”

“Killian,” Autumn huffed. “She’s right. You’re being controlling.”

“I’m not. Skylar doesn’t want the phone.”

“Skylar?”

I gave her a regretful shake of my head. “I’m not ready for the cell. Sorry.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because it was sweet of you. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“You should be honored, Autumn,” O’Dea said. “She doesn’t care if she hurts my feelings.”

I smirked. “That’s because you have none.”

We stared at each other, as if daring the other to look away.

“Okay.” Laughter trembled in Autumn’s voice. “I’m going to go. Skylar, give the phone to Killian. He paid for it anyway.” And then she was striding out, her heels clacking down the hallway. “Ooh, Killian, you brought your Taylor! Have fun!”

And then the door slammed shut.

Expression quizzical, I sat up. “Your Taylor?”