Testing Recipes for Disaster (Emberwood #2)

Chapter 1- Lauren

T hree months later: Summer

A nagging sensation had been wrapping its way around my spine while I got ready to tone my client’s hair.

What am I forgetting? I pleaded with my brain as Sarah chattered up at me from the shampoo bowl.

She was talking about her high school reunion coming up next weekend over the Fourth of July, and I felt myself smiling and nodding about the dress she bought with the slit up to her hip as I started coating her newly lightened hair. Then, it finally dawned on me that this was not the toner I should have been using.

Shit shit shit. I tried not to let my racing heartbeat and the cold, slimy feeling dripping down my back show on my face. You can fix this, no big deal.

“Hey, Sarah? I think I have a better idea for a toner for you that will get us closer to the photo you brought. I forgot it even existed—because we just started carrying this line—but if you’re okay with it, I think I’m going to rinse you and go mix up the other. I honestly think you’ll be so happy with it.”

I was already wetting her hair as I spoke.

“Oh! Okay, yeah, that sounds fine. I trust you!”

Maybe you shouldn’t, I thought.

My brain was not here. It wasn’t even there , it was everywhere. My thoughts felt like the carnival that would be rolling into town next week—the lights, the sounds, the fireworks, the smells of fried food—all of it happening at once, and I couldn’t temper them. I rinsed Sarah as she changed topics, now chatting about her son and his handprint art he’d brought home from preschool.

Breathe in and out and fucking focus, Garrett.

I left her at the bowl and went to mix up the correct toner, which was absolutely not a new brand, paying extra close attention this time. Christian eyed me suspiciously from his station when I came back with the new bottle, and I tried to convey to him what an idiot I was without speaking. He quirked a perfectly lined brow to let me know I’d have to explain later, but he eased back into his conversation with his client.

My heart rate came down within a more normal range after I corrected my error. Sarah’s hair ended up looking perfect, and she left me a hefty tip I didn’t deserve. It was a good thing I had an hour break between appointments to get my shit together.

My iced coffee was sufficiently watery, but caffeine had the opposite effect on me as most, and I needed it.

Christian floated gracefully into the chair next to me in the back room and picked up his own coffee, taking a long drink before facing me. His eyeliner was still winged to perfection, even after the three clients he’d seen today.

“Spill,” he demanded.

“How does your eyeliner stay on your face after blow-drying? It’s not fair.”

“I’ll teach you, Grasshopper, after you tell me what you did.”

His rich brown eyes widened in impatience, his dark lashes and arched brows playing along.

“I mixed up a toner that would have been disastrous on her. Like, I didn’t even think about it, just threw it in the bottle and went on my merry way like an asshole. Thank god I realized it almost as soon as it touched her head, and I made something up about having a better idea from a new line. I need to get my brain together before I screw up something I can’t fix.”

“It happens to the best of us, Darling. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“Oh yeah? When’s the last time you almost had a client walking out of here a brassy blond?”

“Never, obviously. I wasn’t referring to myself because my work is impeccable. But you know, everyone else .” Another sip of iced coffee.

“You’re a little bit of a bitch, you know?”

“Takes one to know one. Anyhow, I’m going to get a salad; you want anything?”

“Grilled cheeeeeese.”

“You have the tastes of a toddler.”

I grinned and shook off what remained of my mistake so that I didn’t make another one when my next client arrived.

THIS PATTERN OF SWINGING from feeling like I could fall asleep standing up to being so awake I had no choice but to paint my guest bathroom at one in the morning had to stop. I knew there was a limit my brain would hit where I wouldn’t be able to function, and my mistake at work only proved it.

I was good at my job. I didn’t make careless errors like that, but lately, it seemed like I could not settle on a single train of thought. My brain was Grand Central, and all the trains were there at once.

I dipped the paint roller back into the fuchsia color that resulted from me mixing all the red and pink paint I had left from my I wanna paint hearts all over my wall project. I compromised with myself that I’d only paint one wall, and then I’d force myself to lie in my bed and close my eyes and not open them until morning. I was going to kick insomnia’s ass.

Interestingly, the thing about sleeping after weeks of not , was that I slept for fourteen hours straight. There were texts from my mom, Sam, Jesse, and Christian, and even two missed calls. Everyone knew not to call me unless they were dying.

Uuughhhh .

So much for accomplishing anything on my day off. I slid out of bed and talked myself into at least throwing in a load of laundry to the wash.

See? You can do things.

I put a mini-pizza into my toaster oven and slumped over on one of my barstools.

SAM : Are you off today? I’m only working this morning and kinda wanna go look at dresses. There’s a lady who hand makes these gorgeous gowns in Centerville.

LAUR: Fuck, I just woke up. If you’re still in a shopping mood I can be ready in 30 minutes

SAM: Eh, she closes at 5 and I got wrapped up designing invitations anyway. Happy hour at The Bar?

Guilt settled in my stomach. I was her maid of honor and should be taking more initiative in helping her with wedding planning.

Add it to the list of shit you should be doing .

The pizza dinged, and I bit into it far too early, the sauce rendering my taste buds useless for at least three to five business days.

LAUR: See you in an hour.

The thought of washing my hair was wholly overwhelming, but I made myself get in the shower to scrub off the rest of the fatigue still clinging to my body. I shot off a text to Christian, who’d only sent me a Clueless meme, letting him know he should meet us. He and Sam had met a few times, but I needed to make them friends .

LAUR : Will my brother be gracing us with his presence?

SAM: I know you’re REALLY asking if Jeremy will be joining us to see if you need to have an excuse to bail at the ready, but no, Jesse is doing training for new coaches tonight.

I only validated her message with a middle finger emoji. She didn’t appreciate how much creativity it took to avoid him in a town this small, especially when he was Jesse’s best friend. I’d made up early appointments I didn’t have and home projects that didn’t exist, all in the name of making sure I’d only seen Jer in passing since the night he drew his line in the sand. He’d attempted to make two appointments through the salon website, and I’d canceled them and sent him a form message. Because I was petty.

After that disaster, I’d decided that if he had the balls to flirt with me for almost a year, then he should have had the balls to follow through. I ignored the simmer of mixed emotions in my stomach when I thought about what would have happened if he had agreed to come in that night.

Maybe you wouldn’t have flipped out and tried to pretend it never happened. It’s possible you would have fallen in love and gotten married and lived happily ever after .

My inner voice didn’t even believe its own delusional words. But I wasn’t prepared to admit that he might have made the right call. There were plenty of very cute tourists in town for the Fourth that would happily come in if I asked them.

Never mind that you have turned down the last several guys that’ve hit on you.

I frowned involuntarily.

I put my plate in the dishwasher and decided I should leave now and arrive early. That never happened, but the guilt about making Sam miss out on a day of dress shopping was weighing on me. I could get a table and buy the first round of drinks.

I checked my appearance briefly, satisfied with how my homemade halter top had turned out, and headed to my garage and my little yellow Beetle.

After arriving, I plopped down at a high top in the back and stirred my vodka soda, wondering if it was always boring being early. I liked arriving once things were in full swing.

“Hey, can I get you another?” a voice asked to my left. My gaze landed on a probably late-twenty-something guy wearing khakis and flip-flops.

Definitely a tourist .

Emberwood was such a random place to be a travel destination, but the town had done a good job over the last fifty years building up events and quaint lodging near Lake Eerie. For a relationship-failure such as myself, it was helpful to have a rotation of cute guys pass through. But tonight, I was going to hype up Sam about her wedding without distraction.

“Ah, thanks, but I’m actually waiting on someone.”

I shot him what I thought was an apologetic smile. He wasn’t bad looking; I just wasn’t going to make tonight about me.

“I don’t see anyone yet...so what would one drink hurt?”

His grin widened, and he leaned too far into my bubble, accomplishing the opposite of his goal because now I was getting pissed off.

“Do you make it a point not to take ‘no’ for an answer, Chad? Because it’s not a great look.”

“Hey, baby, sorry I’m late,” a familiar voice murmured in my ear, though certainly loud enough for Chad or Brad or whomever this guy was to hear.

Jer’s arm wrapped around me from behind my barstool and made goosebumps erupt down my arms.

“Are you here to take our drink order, or should you be fucking off right about now?” Jer asked the guy, his voice as aggressive as I’d ever heard him.

The guy held up his hands like he was surrendering and scurried away back to a group of what I assumed was his flock of douchebags. Jeremy’s hands left my body, and I sucked in a breath at the loss. I cleared my throat to hopefully cover it.

“You okay?” he asked, concern in his warm hazel eyes.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

He stood for a moment, clearly warring with whether or not he was going to walk away.

“Listen, I know you’re avoiding me, and you’re doing a stellar job, by the way, but do you want me to hang out until whoever you’re waiting for gets here?”

“I’m not avoiding you. I’ve been busy.”

“Right. You’re a horrible liar. You can own it; it’s fine. I can sit here while I wait for my takeout, though. I won’t even try to engage you in conversation, so maybe you can still count this as another day we didn’t interact.”

His tone was light, but the words held hurt anyway.

Join the club.

“Well, I would hate not to check off today on my anti-Jeremy calendar, but I guess you did me a solid, so I’ll figure out how to deal.”

He shot me a smirk that made me dig my nails into my palm. I still hadn’t recovered from his arms wrapped around me, and he shouldn’t be allowed to look at me like that.

“How are you?”