On paper—heck, in person—Penn looks pretty great. But I know from past experience that guys like him are great in the role they want to play, and Penn’s made it perfectly clear what role that is.
But at the end of the day, this isn’t about him. I can’t let it be about him. It has to be about me and what I want, and I’m not even sure what that is right now. I just know that if I say “To hell with it” and give in, I should’ve stayed in LA.
“Well, you do you,” she says.
“I am doing me, Harper. That’s what I’m trying to say.”
She takes a sip of her coffee and watches me over the brim. When she sets the cup back on the counter, she sighs.
“When I first started doing hair, I had this woman come in that wanted her hair dyed red. I had a terrible feeling about it. I mean, I even tried to talk her out of it.”
“Why?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Maybe because I ate a red crayon as a child and puked it up. Anyway, that was the worst color job I’ve ever done, and in retrospect, a part of me thinks I convinced myself it would be bad before it ever started. I had a phobia about red dyes for years.”
I laugh. “That’s tragic.”
“It is. But you know what’s more tragic?”
My face falls. I brace myself for whatever truth she’s readying to hurl my way. And no matter what it is, I have to listen because Harper wouldn’t waste her time with nonsensical advice.
“What’s more tragic is when we do that to people, when we decide someone is difficult or bad or a rogue without giving them a chance.”
I roll my eyes.
If I were to somehow convince myself that Penn was worth pursuing, then I’d have to broach the “we fucked” subject, and I’m not feeling that. And it’s not really about that, anyway.
“Look,” I say with a frustrated breath. “I’m not judging Penn for being the consummate flirt he is. I actually like his attention. But at no point last night did Penn want anything to do with me outside of a hookup. I’ve had that for years, Harp. Just, the men before wanted my parents’ connections or to gain credibility because of my last name. Penn just wants to get off.”
Harper forces a swallow. “I get that. That was a mildly disturbing way to put it, but okay.”
I sigh. “I just . . . I don’t want to get married. I’m not looking for something serious, even. But I do want to have some sort of relationship with a guy who doesn’t want to flirt with everyone. A guy who asks me questions because he wants to know me and not just my family or my vagina.”
“Okay, I hear you,” Harper says. “I do. And I’m going to let it go.”
“Thank you.”
“For now, anyway,” she says.
I swivel from side to side in the chair. This is entirely too heavy for this early. “How busy will we be today?”
She stands and picks up her purse. It drops into the chair with a thud. “We won’t be that busy. So I did you a favor.”
“Why does that concern me on some level?”
She digs through her giant black bag. “Because you know me well,” she mumbles. “Got it.” She extends her hand. A business card sticks out between her fingers. “Here. Take this.”
I do. It’s on light-pink cardstock and smells faintly of roses. “What’s this?”
“You said you like to paint, right?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m no Picasso, but I enjoy it. Why?”
“I found you a side hustle.” She moves the purse out of her way and sits again. “I had a little aha moment last night and made some calls. I found you something that I think will fill your soul and pad your pockets a little.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’m not totally sure, to be honest. But Haley—have you met her? She runs Buds and Branches.”
“The flower shop?”
“Yes.”
“No, I haven’t been in there, but it looks so cute from the outside.”
Harper nods. “It is. And she’s just as cute. You’d love her. Anyway, her boyfriend, Trevor, and his family are a bunch of wealthy do-gooders around here. Great people. They’re doing something with kids down at the old library, and I thought you could help out. Meredith, that’s Trevor’s stepmom and the brains and moneybags behind the project, said they need an artist.”
I laugh. “I’m not an artist.”
“You’ll do fine. She said it would just take a couple of weeks—no big deal. I told her I’d send you her way this morning if you were interested. You could just meet her and see what she’s doing. I didn’t commit you to anything.”
I curl a leg up under me and watch Harper mess with a broken fingernail. This time yesterday, Penn was walking through the door. “Here comes trouble,” Harper said.
She doesn’t even know how right she was.
I yawn again. “What’s she like?”
“Who? Meredith?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s married to a retired, big-shot attorney from Nashville. They bought some land up here a couple of years ago and built a huge, and I mean huge, house on top of the hill out there. In the fall when the leaves drop, you can see it. It’s pretty incredible.”
“I think I know the spot,” I say. “I was trying to get to the lake yesterday . . . Anyway, long story. But the point is, I think I turned around in their driveway, because I can’t imagine two houses here that are that big.”
Harper laughs and goes back to her fingernail. “That was probably it. You know, Penn, Matt, and Dane built that . . .”
She lets her voice trail off to create an opening for me to poke around. When I don’t, she looks up at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Oh, nothing. Anyway, Meredith is nice. You’ll like her. She has a lot of energy.”
I glance up at the clock. We’ve been open for ten minutes, and not a soul has called or come in. It’s so odd to me. The old salon I worked at would’ve been swamped already.
While the idea of hanging out here with Harper and cutting a walk-in or two really doesn’t bother me, I need to not take this laid-back lifestyle too far.
“Should I go now?” I ask. “Or wait until lunch, or what?”
“Just go now. I have a couple of appointments this morning. If anyone walks in, they can wait.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay.” I grab my purse and the container of yogurt I brought for breakfast. “Where do I go?”
“The old library. Do you know where that is? Down past Buds on the right. The Kellys bought the building after the city closed down the library.” She laughs at the memory. “Then they bought the flower shop and combined it with the library. Told you she was energetic.”
I laugh. “Sounds like it.” My purse goes over my shoulder. “If you need me, just call or text. I can be right back.”
“I got this covered.”
“Thanks for the hookup,” I say.
Harper’s eyes sparkle. It causes my stomach to rattle around.
“What are you not telling me?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. That you look pretty today?”