In Close (Bulletproof #3)(42)
Author: Brenda Novak

Claire realized she hadn’t stepped aside and invited her friend in. “Of course not. You know I work fast. I can cut you both. Come on, we’ll go through the house.”

Isaac sat completely still while Claire trimmed his hair. She liked running her fingers through his curls but, considering the situation, she couldn’t enjoy it as much as she wanted. Had she severed their tenuous friendship?

She got that feeling. Guilt dragged at her like hundred-pound weights tied to each limb, but she couldn’t apologize with Laurel looking on.

When Laurel answered a call on her cell, Claire took the opportunity to squeeze Isaac’s shoulder as a sort of silent apology, but the look he gave her in the mirror made her drop her hand. He was angry. And no one was more formidable when angry.

“Will you, um, tilt your head a little more…? That’s it,” she murmured.

He allowed her to manipulate his head and sat through the cut, but the steeliness of his eyes stabbed at her the whole time. She wanted to do a good job on the trim, at least, but with so much dark emotion rolling off him, and Laurel watching curiously, she was in too much of a hurry.

What if her best friend could see everything she was trying to hide? What if Laurel could tell that just being near Isaac made her heart race? That he was the only one who could ease the pain of losing David?

If Laurel saw the truth, then she’d have to face it herself. And she couldn’t do that. Not right now.

In case she was more transparent than she wanted to be, she refused to meet his gaze again. She snipped and snipped, then used her blow dryer to get rid of the hair that had fallen on his neck. After that she offered him a fake smile and pulled off the drape she’d fastened on him when he sat down. “There you go. Thanks for coming in.”

She couldn’t get him out of there fast enough…?.

“How much do I owe you?” he said dryly.

For a haircut he hadn’t even wanted. She hesitated to charge him, but that would make her deception a bit too obvious. “Twenty bucks ought to do it.”

He leaned closer. “What’d you say?”

She’d spoken too quietly. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Twenty dollars.”

He tossed some money onto the shelf of her station and walked out.

A lump grew in her throat as the door shut. She’d ruined whatever trust had begun to emerge between them. But she didn’t have time to mope over it. She’d known all along that she was better off without Isaac Morgan in her life.

Trying to force a smile, she turned to Laurel. “Sorry you had to wait.”

“No problem. I didn’t mind. But…is he always surly like that?” She gestured to indicate Isaac, and together they watched through the window as he started his truck.

No, he could be as kind, sexy, gentle and funny as he could be fierce or indifferent. He’d stayed with her all night because he knew she was scared to be alone. But she didn’t want to think about that. It made the whole mess worse.

“I guess.” She shrugged. “I don’t really know him that well.”

“Neither do I,” Laurel mused. “But he’s a heck of a photographer.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“You haven’t seen his work?”

That was going too far. Of course she’d seen it. Everyone had, especially around here. “Some pieces. The Amish store on the way to Libby sells a few of them.”

“The Kicking Horse Saloon has some, too. Only they’re not for sale.”

“It’s great that he can make a living doing what he loves.”

Those words were filler, something she could say without revealing the poignancy of her feelings, but Laurel gave her a funny look all the same. “You’re not impressed with his work?”

“Of course. I just haven’t paid much attention to his photographs, that’s all.”

“Wait—he’s the one who helped you when you hit your head the other night, isn’t he? Myles told me.”

Claire had been so busy building the perception of distance between her and Isaac, she’d forgotten about that. Her eyes cut to the twenty dollars he’d tossed on her shelf. She could’ve said she’d given him a gift certificate as a thank-you. That would’ve saved her from adding insult to injury by charging him. Too bad she hadn’t thought of it earlier.

“Yes.”

Laurel sat in the chair near the sink so Claire could wash her hair. “We haven’t even had a chance to talk about that. I’ve called a couple of times, but…”

Claire hadn’t called her back. She felt terrible about that, in addition to everything else, but Laurel wasn’t the only friend she’d neglected. She’d been dodging all her calls. “I was down for a whole day because of that bump on my head, and the time I lost really put me behind.”

“But you’re okay?”

The water wasn’t getting hot fast enough. “Of course,” she said briskly. “I’m fine.”

Laurel resisted when Claire tried to recline the chair. “Are you sure? I’ve been worried about you. You’re losing so much weight…?.”

“I seem to be hearing that from all sides lately.”

“It’s true. I’ve been afraid to say anything for fear it’ll upset you, but…I think it’s time we acknowledged there might be a problem. You’re not recovering like you should.”

Claire’s defenses slammed into place despite the little voice inside her head that warned her not to offend Laurel. “You’re saying you could get over Myles’s death in a year?”

“That’s too horrible to even contemplate,” she said. “I’m not faulting you, or saying I could do any better. I just… I want you to be happy. That’s all. And if it takes admitting that you need help—”

“I don’t need help!”

Once again, Laurel resisted when Claire tried to wash her hair. “Fine. Then will you do me one favor?”

“I’m not seeing a shrink, if that’s where you’re going.”

“It’s not. What I want is free and easy for you to give.”

“And that means…”

“I’d like you to go out with that guy I’ve been trying to set you up with.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Not this again.”

“Come on! He’s so nice. Handsome, too.”

Laurel had been badgering her about this for weeks. “I’m not ready.”