“That a promise?” She heard rustling and then water running. “Because I’m game if you wanted to make a plan.”

“Sunday night?”

Another rumbling laugh filled her ear. “You really are going to kill me. Death by jerking off. I can see it already.”

She smiled, washed up, and began mixing another batch of hair color. Hopefully the stuff on the floor wouldn’t ruin the tile, because it’d have to wait until later for cleanup. “And you’re going to make me lose customers. I’m surprised she hasn’t come looking for me.”

“Who’s bad now, huh?”

No doubt about it—he’d officially corrupted her. And she wasn’t complaining one bit. “Thank you for that little soiree. Call me Sunday on your way home?”

“Fuck, yeah. We’ve got a date, remember?”

***

“Jennifer Lynn Riley...”

Her mother’s voice, in that admonishing tone that only mothers and grandmothers could pull off, sounded before Jenny turned the corner into the main part of the salon.

“Mom?” God, she was totally going to know. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to take my daughter to dinner after she closed up shop, but it looks like she’s planning to be here all night.” Helen scowled, looking between Jenny and Mrs. Miller, still content in the chair with her magazine, thank God.

Talking about her in third person. Hmm, not a good sign.

“This won’t take long at all. Just a little touch up.” She set the bowl of color down, pumped Mrs. Miller’s chair a little higher, and adjusted her drape. “How did you get here anyway. Please tell me you didn’t drive.”

Her mother rolled her eyes and hobbled over to a vacant chair with her claw-footed cane. God, but she’d aged since the fall. It made Jenny’s heart ache just to look at her.

“Of course, I didn’t drive. I had Gladys drop me off. Figured you didn’t have anything going on tonight since your love life is in the crapper.”

Mrs. Miller stifled a laugh and Jenny shot Helen a glare. “Really?”

“I don’t know.” Her mom lifted a shoulder, but the all-knowing gleam in her eyes told another story. “You tell me.”

Unbelievable. “Who have you been talking to?”

“Not you apparently.”

This time, Mrs. Miller let her laugh fly. “This is why I love coming here. There’s always a juicy story.”

“Mom, seriously...” Shaking her head, Jenny focused her attention on applying the color. Why did she suddenly feel like she was seventeen-years-old being admonished for breaking curfew?

“Don’t seriously me,” Helen scoffed. “Just tell me who he is, for God’s sake. I’m old. I could die at any second.”

“Why do you always do that?” Her voice rose higher than she intended it to, but she didn’t apologize. Mrs. Miller and her mother went way back. This wasn’t the first argument the woman had witnessed. “You’re not that old and you’re not going to die!”

Helen made a dismissive face. “Is it so wrong for me to want to know the name of the man you might very well marry? What if something does happen to me? I’d like to go with at least a little reassurance that you won’t become a crazy cat lady. No offense, Lorna.”

“None taken. I love my babies.” Mrs. Miller smiled naively.

Jenny narrowed her eyes. “Don’t do the passive aggressive thing, Mom. It’s not flattering. At all.”

“Okay.” Helen nodded enthusiastically. “Since you’ve given me permission, I’ll just come out and say it—I want you married before I go. I want grandkids. Is that too much to ask?”

Jenny squeezed the back of Mrs. Miller’s chair, so hard, her fingers hurt. Her first instinct was to tell her mother to mind her own business. But the little voice in the back of her head shut her up fast. Isn’t that exactly what you want, too?

“Ah, I see.” Her mother smiled and nodded her head softly. “I know that look in your eyes. You want that, too.”

Out of nowhere, a lump lodged in Jenny’s throat. A casual cough dislodged it so she could finish applying Mrs. Miller’s color, but both women continued to stare at her, waiting for a response.

“Who’s put the color back in her cheeks, sweetie?” her mother prompted.

Sucking in a deep breath, she put the bowl down and did the math—her mother, plus one of her oldest friends, added to a discussion about marriage and grandkids equaled no way out. She dropped into the last free chair with a sigh.

“You’re making too much of this, but if you must know his name is Brody. He’s a Marine from Omaha.”

“Omaha!”

“A Marine!”

Her mother and Mrs. Miller gasped at the same time. One frowned, while one grinned from ear to ear.

“Why would you date a boy from the other side of the state? You’re not thinking about moving are you? Is that why you brought on another stylist?” Helen’s face went a little more ashen with every question.

“Mom...” Jenny smiled and shook her head. She and Brody had only been seeing each other for...a week? Could they count any longer? Regardless, it definitely wasn’t long enough to think about a future together beyond next weekend. “One, he’s not a boy and I think he’d take offense to us calling him one. Two, I’m not moving. Pretty sure I’m a River Bend lifer. Three, I brought Elena on so I’d have more time to spend with you. I didn’t want to tell you that, but I don’t want you thinking I hired help because I’ve got plans to leave town either.”

Mrs. Miller’s misty eyes darted between Jenny and Helen like she was watching a soap opera unfold.

“Sweetheart...” Her mother got to her feet again and slowly made her way over, wrapping her arms around Jenny’s shoulders. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

“I just want you to be happy.” Jenny squeezed back. “Which means you’re stuck with me for a good long time.”

“That’s a relief.” Her mother sighed and whispered in her ear. “By the way, I already knew his name. My heart might be bad, but my hearing is top-notch. Lucky for you, Lorna’s isn’t.”

Oh, my God.

Helen pulled back and patted Jenny’s flaming cheek. “Since he made you blush and not cry, he’s already a keeper in my book.”

Chapter Sixteen

One week later...

Fucking Friday night traffic.

Brody tapped this fingers on the steering wheel while the semi in front of him hit the brakes for the tenth time in the last two minutes. The right lane was just as backed up, so there was no going around. Just this snail-paced progression that had snapped his patience about fifteen miles back.

Seeing red and blue lights flashing ahead probably should’ve made him feel bad for all the four-letter words he’d hollered at no one in particular, but he had a woman waiting, dammit. At this rate, Jenny would be in bed by the time he hit River Bend.

Not that climbing in beside her would be so bad.

Fuck, maybe bed was exactly where he wanted her, after all.

He chuckled to himself as his radio muted and a call came over the bluetooth. His mother’s cell. Not unusual, but rare enough this late on a Friday night that it gave him pause.

“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” Finally—finally—the right lane cleared enough for him to slide out from behind the damn truck.

“The moon? The stars? Your father’s cholesterol?” Lena Nelson quipped, followed by a throaty giggle.

Brody rolled his eyes. “Kinda late for you to be calling, isn’t it?”

“It’s eight o’clock. We’re not that old, Brody James. Jeez.”

Yeah, yeah. He waved his hand, you know, because his mother could see that through the phone. Argh. “Maybe not, but you know I’m headed out of town this weekend. I figured something was going on.”

“Actually, it is. Your dad and I are stuck in traffic on I-80. We’re heading to North Platte for the weekend. Grandpa had a little fall earlier today.”

Heat rose up Brody’s neck. “A fall? Doing what?”

“Unfortunately just walking from the living room to the bathroom. He’s not hurt, other than a bruised hip, but we wanted to check in nonetheless.”