Testing Recipes for Disaster (Emberwood #2)

Chapter 9- Lauren

“ I brought you the best breakfast you’ll ever eat. You’re welcome,” I said in greeting to Christian when I walked past him to drop my bag in the back.

“Oh?” he asked when I returned. “From where? Because if you baked it, I might let you keep that all for yourself.”

“I can cook . I survive living on my own, don’t I?”

“You survive on bar food and the taco truck down the street.”

“That’s a lie. I have pasta and frozen meatballs at home for when I’m feeling fancy.” I was gifted with a light clap. “But no , Jer made these. He went to baking school or something.”

“I accept. He has good vibes.”

Christian held out his hand, and I delicately placed the muffin into it and awaited his thanks.

“Damn. That tastes like a family of elves baked it,” he muttered.

“Right? You’re welcome.”

I was a little jealous when Christian told me what services he had booked—his clients were adventurous. He was doing a set of extensions, a mermaid balayage, and then some normal cut and colors.

I want to do a mermaid balayage , I pouted in my head.

“Think I should put some red, white, and blue tinsel in my hair?”

“Really? Patriotism in this economy?” he asked incredulously.

“You’re probably right. I’m bored with my appearance, I think. Wanna dye my hair?”

“No. I don’t dye naturally red hair anyway; you know this. Channel your boredom into planning the wedding shower you’re freaking out about.”

“Damn it! How do I keep forgetting that’s the only item on my agenda?!”

Christian sighed, shook his head, and went to greet his client. I got a diet soda from the fridge in the back and downed it, excited to see Gen this morning. She’d started coming to me shortly after we met, and she was a dream client. Her hair was awesome, and she claimed she was mostly here for the socializing.

I opened Pinterest while I waited and tried to narrow down the gazillion ideas I had for the shower theme. Maybe I’d let Jer choose based on what desserts he wanted to make. That would help tremendously with my decision paralysis. I took some screenshots and dropped them in a text with the labels A, B, C, or D.

LAUR : Choose your favorite theme based on the delightful things you want to bake.

He did not immediately answer, which was the most annoying. He was probably under a car or something. My mind wandered to him in a tight white t-shirt, sweaty, and spotted with grease.

God, why is that hot? You should ask Gen to write a mechanic romance .

“I’m here! And I brought you iced tea with lemon. You like this, yes?”

“I like all forms of caffeine, yes. It calms me down.”

“Ah, so you’re one of those people who can drink three coffees and take a nap?”

“Yes!”

“My sister is the same way. You’ll have to let me know your favorite drink for next time.”

She plopped down in my chair, and I secured her cape.

“Before I forget, I need you to write a mechanic romance. Asking for a friend, obviously. And also, tell me what we’re doing today.”

“For a friend, huh? Is there anyone I should use for my inspo board for said mechanic?”

“Nope, totally up to you. You know, art imitating life or something.”

“Riiiiight. I’ll get that outlined for you.”

She grinned widely before taking out her phone to show me pictures. Her hair was a lovely honey-colored blond, and the photos showed the same base color with chocolate and caramel lowlights.

“Girrrrlllll, this is sexy.”

“You think? I like the darker vibes. I kind of feel like I’m entering my villain era. Or, at least, Penn thinks so. I might as well roll with it, right?”

I stepped back on my heel and cocked my head at her. Penn was Gen’s husband. Yes, we teased her that their names rhymed. But we’d only met him twice; he hardly ever came out. I wasn’t around him enough to form an educated opinion, but I was happy to make snap judgments at any time.

“Not that I’m opposed to a villain era, but why exactly is Penn under this impression?”

“It’s a long story,” she said with a sigh.

“It’s a good thing this color’s going to take a while then, huh? I’m going to go mix up. I’ll be right back.”

I mixed carefully, still reeling from the error I’d made last week. Plus, now that I knew Gen was feeling yucky, her hair needed to be that much better.

“Timer starts now, so get to talkin’.”

I laser-focused my attention while I started putting on color and folding foils. She took a deep breath, and I knew this was going to be something heavy.

“I don’t know. He’s stressed about money, I guess. And my last book did okay, but the ones before that have kind of slowed down in sales...and preschool teachers don’t make very much. So, he wants to move to Toledo, because his company is opening a branch, and for me to look for another job once we’re there, but I don’t want to. Is that selfish, you think? I mean, if we had anything serious going on, like we were racking up debt or not paying our bills, I get it. But we’re okay. He wants a bigger house, a nicer car, fancy vacations. And I just don’t care. That does sound kind of villain-esque when I say it like that.”

She bit her lip and looked nervous. Little did she know that even if she did sound like the villain, I was bound by hair stylist code to support her evil efforts one thousand percent. As it happened, she wasn’t, though.

“Hmmmmm. I’m not getting villain. Sorry.”

“Yeah? I love my littles at school, and having breaks and summers off gives me time to write, and I can’t imagine going to a job I hate every day to drive a different car? And I like my tiny rental house. It’s cozy.”

“I’m totally with you on the job thing. I had to explain this to Sam last year when she was thinking about going back to a design firm that it’s not necessary to hate going to work. Some of us like our jobs most of the time.”

“Ugh, it’s so good to hear someone else say that. I feel like I’m banging my head against a wall with Penn. He only sees one version of success, and that’s dollar signs.”

She sighed, and I could tell that maybe we needed to steer into happier topics now that she’d gotten it off her chest. I was going to send her husband a glare or two the next time I saw him, though; that was for sure.

“Well, I happened to read your last three books, and I can tell you that you successfully made me lust after a football player, a cowboy, and an architect. So, I say mission accomplished on that front.”

She laughed, and her eyes lit up at the compliment.

Back on track .

I finished up her color and left her to sit while I went to grab a snack.

“I was eavesdropping,” Christian said, settling in next to me in the back room.

“I would expect nothing less.”

“I am incensed at the audacity of her husband.”

“I, too, am incensed. That’s an excellent word.”

“Good. We can be incensed together. And you’ve already planned to glare at him should he show his face at a happy hour, correct?”

“How do you know me this well?”

“We’re Geminis, darling.”

“It makes so much sense.”

I wandered back out to check on Gen’s color after mixing up her toner, correctly, and as predicted, it was looking amazing .

“You are going to be so happy with this!” I squealed.

She looked genuinely excited, and I was going to add some pretty layers around her face for fun if she wanted. I rinsed and toned her and took her back to my station.

“So, do you want me to turn you around so you can be surprised at the end, or does that give you anxiety?”

“Oh! No, let’s do the surprise.”

I clapped because makeover reveals were what I lived for. I got to work, and I had to say that I still had the ability to amaze myself. The new color perfectly complemented her skin tone.

“I am so very good at my job. You ready?”

She only nodded quickly, and I spun her around, elated to hear her gasp.

“Oh my god , Laur, I look like a different human!”

“Yes, but still pretty you.”

“I’m obsessed. Seriously, thank you so much. Maybe this will take Penn’s mind off everything else.”

She grinned, and I hoped that was true. She was the nicest girl; she deserved an equally nice husband.

“He would be a fool not to fall all over himself, yes.”

“Agreed!” Christian called out from his station, confirming my analysis.

“You guys are so good for the ego. I’ll see you at happy hour next week, maybe?”

“I hope so! Enjoy looking at yourself in windows,” I called after her as she left.

I sank into my chair and twirled around, sipping what was left of my tea.

“Shouldn’t you be utilizing your time to get back to planning?”

“Damn it!”