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McKenna pulled her blue Jeep into a parking space downtown. The quaint western storefront in front of her made her smile. Although her family had never lived in Marietta full-time, she’d always appreciated the charm and feel of the place.
Amid her exciting evening at Grey’s the night before, there had been discussion about hairstyles and manicures and all involved recommended she go to Main Street Style. Since she’d been “gallivanting around the world” as Wes liked to tease her, she hadn’t had much time to get her hair cut, and she for sure hadn’t had a manicure in Lord only knew how long. She’d called that morning and spoken to a lady named Clara. There had been a cancelation so a hair appointment was open that afternoon. McKenna took it. And Clara said not to worry about her nails; one of the girls would have time for her.
She got out of her Jeep and took a deep breath of the cool mountain air. Late March in Montana was still on the cold side, the high that day only reaching forty-eight degrees, but the sky was clear blue. As much as she tended to itch for travel, she was glad she’d decided to stay in Marietta for a while. It had been wonderful to spend time with Joy, and McKenna definitely wanted to be around when Mike and Franchesca’s twins were born.
Her heart sank as she thought of how much her mother would have loved all the grandbabies being born into the family. A fantastic mother herself, Marian St. Claire would have soaked in grandchildren like California sunshine. An ache ran through McKenna as it always did when she thought of her mother. As the only daughter, McKenna had formed a special bond with her mom. Painfully outnumbered by the men in the family, the two of them had had an unspoken understanding—though it might seem that the St. Claire men ran the show, McKenna and her mother knew the real truth. A competitive clan, the family had its share of heated moments full of opinions, but deep down they loved one another fiercely, which made her miss her mother all the more.
The boys were marrying and starting families, and where did that leave her? Even her dad had found a peace in Marietta. Making his money in broadcasting and film, Daniel St. Claire had chosen New York as his home base. But after his wife’s death, he’d stayed in Montana. Marian had chosen to go through her cancer treatments in Marietta and live out her final days at home. McKenna’s father must have felt that was where he belonged now, too. From what she could tell, it suited him.
The family’s main house still was in New York, but McKenna was the only one who lived there when she was stateside. Mike and Lucas had made Montana home, and Wes had a Penthouse in New York he stayed in when he and Noelle went back. After McKenna’s last trip, she’d gone home to New York, only to find that she rattled around the place all by herself. Sure, the staff was there, but that wasn’t the same. She missed her dad and her brothers.
And although she feared Marietta would only be filled with sad memories of her mother’s last few months, in the few weeks she’d been there, it had been fine. The house was so full of life and laughter now, it was tough to stay sad.
She caught a glimpse of herself in a storefront window and sad would be the operative word to describe the state of her hair, that was clear. It was time to go into Main Street Style and get her Medusa curls tamed.
It had been a while since she’d been in a salon, and the scent of floral shampoo mixed with the fumes from nail polish bottles brought back memories of girls’ days out with her mom. Not one to wear much makeup, McKenna had gone with her mom for manicures—clear polish only—and had to admit having someone else do her hair was decadent. In the past few years, she’d only entered a salon when she was home in New York for shorts stints.
The woman she had spoken to over the phone earlier led her to a chair where a woman draped a cape around her and introduced herself as Amber.
“My goodness, you have got some gorgeous hair, child.” She stood behind McKenna and ran her fingers through McKenna’s red curls.
McKenna smiled at her in the large mirror before them. “Thanks.” If she had to guess, Amber was most likely in her late fifties. She had beautiful blue eyes and wore her dark hair pulled up in a messy bun. McKenna couldn’t shake the feeling she’d met her somewhere before.
“I bet you get that all the time though.” She shook her head as she pumped the rod under McKenna’s chair with her foot, the seat rising with each movement. “People come in here paying through the nose for color like that.”
McKenna chuckled. She did hear that all the time and she didn’t take it for granted. “I’m grateful for my Irish roots, yes.”
“God bless...”
She and Amber talked about how McKenna liked her hair trimmed and what worked best with the thickness of her hair and then Amber led her to the shampoo sinks. McKenna lay with her head back, the hot water warming her head as Amber massaged her scalp. Decadent indeed. Amber wasn’t chatty as she worked, letting McKenna relax.
Once her hair was in a towel, Amber led her back to her chair and got her settled. As she combed McKenna’s hair, the stylist at the next station started talking.
“I heard your son got involved in a little excitement last night at Grey’s, Amber.” The woman lifted an eyebrow in their direction.
It never ceased to amaze McKenna how free women were with their conversations in a salon. While sitting in a salon chair, she had heard more in her lifetime about people she didn’t know, information she personally would struggle to share with her closest friend. The age-old concept that gossip ran rampant in those places was beyond true.
“He didn’t mention anything,” Amber responded, focusing on McKenna’s hair.
“Stood up for a woman, I head. Some drunk idiot got fresh with her and your boy was ready to defend her.”
McKenna sat up straighter in the chair. That story sounded all too familiar.
A young woman in the seat beside her with foil in her hair that stuck out like antennas everywhere chimed in. “I’d be thrilled if your son was my knight in shining armor, Amber.”
McKenna snuck a peek at the woman via the mirror at the next station. Was she blushing?
Amber continued to focus on her job, unfazed by the conversation. Her blue eyes met McKenna’s for a moment in the mirror and she smiled before twisting up a section of hair with a clip and reaching for her comb and scissors.
McKenna tried to keep her facial expression from changing but it hit her right between the eyes. She hadn’t met Amber before; she’d met her son.
Wyatt.
Those same baby blues had stared her down before walking past her and out the door of Grey’s.
Being careful not to move or say anything, McKenna waited for Amber’s response. However, it was also clear she was not about to engage these women in a conversation about her son. McKenna respected her all the more for it.
“I know! Handsome and chivalrous. That’s a combo you don’t see much anymore.” The stylist who had started the conversation said to her client via their mirror, the client nodding in agreement as she flipped a page of the magazine that sat in her lap.
“Like that Ryan Gosling fellow right there.” She pointed with her comb to a picture in the magazine. “I hear he’s a lovely man.”
And just like that, the conversation moved to whether or not the movie star was the type to marry.
McKenna’s head spun with all that had happened in the past few minutes. She’d spent all night wondering about Wyatt Emmerson. Such sadness had filled his eyes when he’d looked at her. She wanted to know more. Understand. Help. Her friends said she had a savior mentality about people, but she didn’t see it that way. So, she cared a lot and wanted to be helpful. Since when was that such a bad thing?
And now she sat in a salon with Wyatt’s mother doing her hair. Of all the crazy things. She fought the urge to rattle off a bunch of questions. The last thing she wanted was to seem as eager about Wyatt as the ladies around her.
As it turned out, she didn’t have to. Done with their debate about Ryan Gosling, the verdict being he was definitely worth pursuing and marrying, the women went right back to talking about Wyatt.
“I’m just glad he’s doing better, Amber. I know things have been tough since his accident.”
Amber sighed. With precision, she pulled a lock of McKenna’s hair between her fingers in a straight line and snipped off the edges. “Wendell thinks that helping him work at Tanner Ranch has made a difference, but I’m not so sure.”
“It would be difficult to give up something you loved so much.” The young woman in the seat beside her shook her head and looked down at her lap.
“Well, as a mom, I’m not exactly sad he isn’t riding rodeo anymore. But having him go out because of an injury isn’t ideal, either.”
“He’ll find what’s right for him, Amber.” The lady holding the magazine in her lap reached out and patted Amber’s arm.
Amber nodded and went back to focusing on McKenna. Their conversation hadn’t told her much more than what Erin had the night before, but it did validate that Wyatt Emmerson was in need of a friend and she was more than happy to make the effort to get to know him better.
Wyatt stabbed a bale of hay with two metal grips, one in each hand, lifted, and stacked it on another one beside the barn.
“I can do that, son. Why don’t you take over here for me with these posts for the new fence?”
It ate at him like the plague the way his dad babied. Yes, the man meant well, but ever since that bull had tossed Wyatt into the fence, jacking up his hip and head, no one in his family had treated him the same. “I’m fine, Dad.”
He stabbed another hay bale and tossed it harder than the last, if only to prove his point.
His father took in a deep breath and let it out, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he took his cowboy hat off, wiped his brow with his sleeve, and put his hat back on before returning to stacking new fence posts in the bed of his truck. Although still cold out, it wasn’t tough to work up a sweat with all that had to be done at Tanner Ranch. They had been a busier than usual, preparing for an Easter egg hunt the Tanners had planned the next day for the kids of Marietta. Well, Erin Tanner was now a St. Claire so... He guessed it didn’t matter. It was Tanner Ranch whether Lucas St. Claire ran it or not.
Wyatt had been helping his dad for a few months now, and it was good work. The kind that made him feel like a man at the end of the day. Limping a bit didn’t do much for his ego, but he was grateful he could still walk and had the strength and energy to chuck hay bales and build fences.
He set down the metal grips, tossed off his work gloves, and took a swig of water from the jug nearby. He didn’t fault his dad. He cared. Hell, he’d even gotten Wyatt the job, knowing he needed to work and would have gone stir-crazy if he’d tried to work inside somewhere. But, damn, if it didn’t eat at him, feeling less than the man he used to be.
He knew that being able to stay atop a raging bull for eight seconds didn’t define him as a man, either, but it sure as hell made him feel like one. He missed it. He missed it somethin’ fierce.
He wiped his brow just as his dad had done and put his gloves back on to pick up the metal grips once more. As bad as his family’s sympathy was, the pity from folks in town was much worse. His sister, Mia, said that Wyatt was imagining it when he told her that people didn’t look him in the eye much anymore or if they did, had that look that said, “It’s such a shame. Poor guy.” Mia didn’t have patience for “woe is me” moments and had told him to stop looking for people’s reactions and live his own life.
That was easy for her to say. She wasn’t the town failure.
Wyatt shook his head. Now he was having a “woe is me” moment, and as much as he’d like to say it was nice, it honestly kinda sucked. Not as much as not being able to ride rodeo anymore, but it sucked all the same.
As he got back to work, the fireball with emerald-green eyes from Grey’s came to mind. He’d told himself she wasn’t going to be someone he spent any time being curious about, but his brain wasn’t accepting that memo. She’d popped into his head way too many times to count since the night before. If he were to be honest, he’d been daydreaming about her all day. Losing his mind over a woman wasn’t something he’d done in a hell of a long time. He kinda liked it. Even if it couldn’t go anywhere. He had too many women in his life already. There was not an inch of room in his world for another one. That was for sure.
