The Harder They Fall Page 4

  "What in the world?" was how she answered the phone.

  I let out a laugh. "What's that mean?" I asked.

  "I talked to Isaac," she said.

  "And?"

  "And, you met him and talked to him today, and you never mentioned that you were my cousin! What's wrong with you?"

  I smiled at her for calling me that. "I'm sorry," I said. "He was only at the station for a few minutes, and Cindy was all over him, like I told you."

  "He doesn't give a crud about anyone named Cindy," she said. "I told him I caught the last part of the interview and asked him if he met my cousin while he was there, and he had no idea who I was talking about! He was shocked when I said your name. He acted like y'all were buddy-buddy. Why didn't you tell him?"

  "Because, like I said, he was only there for a minute. I barely talked to him."

  "He didn't act like that. He acted like you guys really hit it off."

  "No, he didn't," I said, knowing she was stretching the truth.

  "Well, he did seem shocked when I said your name. He said you didn't even mention knowing me. Isn't he sweet? Isn't he cute?"

  "I guess…" I said in a questioning tone.

  "Well, I told him we were all going out for dinner sometime, and he said he wants to. And I told him you give haircuts out of your house and that you said you would hook him up with one if he needed it while he's in Memphis."

  "He's not a haircut every four weeks kind of guy," I said. "His hair's too long for that."

  "He said he needs one now," she said.

  "You're lying."

  "No, I'm not. I told him you said you would do it, and he asked when you could get him in."

  "I hope you didn't tell him you're trying to hook us up," I said. "He got enough of that already today."

  "I didn't," she said. "I wouldn't do that. I was smooth about mentioning you. But I could tell he was intrigued just by how he reacted when I said your name."

  My heart sped up at all this talk of Isaac being intrigued by me. I wasn't used to caring how guys felt about me, and I felt shy and speechless. I stared out of my window into my backyard at Patrick, who was trotting around like a graceful, long-legged horse.

  "Do you care if I give him your number?" Courtney asked. "You know, about the haircut?"

  "Don't go asking him if he wants my number," I said. "If he brings it up to you, then you can—"

  "I already gave it to him," she said.

  I laughed. "Then why'd you ask if it was okay?"

  "I was just making sure."

  "I really hope you didn't tell him you wanted us to go out."

  "I didn’t. I promise. I just said he could call you for a haircut."

  I was still on the phone with Courtney a minute later when Liam pulled up, so I let her go in a hurry so I could kennel Patrick and meet my brother in the driveway.

  We drove to the building in question, which was an old, run-down dry cleaners. Darcy had given Liam the key to it, so we went inside. It was in disrepair—extremely dusty and a little smelly, but underneath all of the dirt and grime, I could imagine a brilliant store for Taylor.

  One of the best things about it was that it was right next door to an amazing theater—one of Memphis's finest. The Blackbird was an old opera house that had been restored a couple of years back, and I had to think that real estate nearby was a smart investment, even if it took some work to get the building up to par.

  Our grandparents owned and operated one of the largest motorcycle companies in the nation, but Liam's trust had not kicked in yet, so we talked about financing and investment, and he said our parents and grandparents were helping him out. I told him the truth, which was that he should talk to Darcy's lawyer and sign the papers with no hesitation whatsoever. It didn't take much imagination to picture the place cleaned up and in working order again, and I knew his girlfriend (soon to be fiancé) would absolutely fall in love with it.

  We stayed there for about thirty minutes, touring the place and talking about what repairs needed to happen and how much of it we could theoretically do ourselves.

  We were both starving when we left, so we went to a restaurant that was within walking distance. Neither of us had tried it before, but I searched it on my phone and found that it had good reviews. It was a quaint café, and seeing as how it was eight o'clock on a Tuesday night, it was relatively empty.

  Liam and I sat at a small table near the window. We were in the process of devouring some seafood fritters we had ordered for an appetizer when someone walked by on the sidewalk, catching my attention. I had been laughing at something my brother said, but my smile faded when I realized that the person walking by was Isaac Charles.

  Seeing him took me so off-guard that I tilted my head, staring at him and wondering if I was imagining things. He stopped walking and stared straight at me like he was equally confused. I smiled a little and lifted my hand, giving him a small, slightly awkward wave. He lifted his hand and did the same thing before glancing across the table at Liam and then back at me.

  "Who is that?" Liam asked.

  "Isaac," I said, without taking my eyes off of the man on the sidewalk.

  I put up my palms in a questioning gesture and mouthed the words, "What are you doing here?" in an over-exaggerated way so he could easily read my lips. I even pointed to the ground when I said the word 'here' just to make sure he understood what I was saying.

  Isaac stiffly turned and pointed at the building on the adjacent corner, which was a hotel. It was a nice place, and it made sense that he'd be staying there, so by the time he looked at me again, I winked and gave him a thumb's up, assuring him that I understood. He gave me a little smile, hesitating for a second like maybe he was confused or wanted to say something more.

  He glanced at Liam again, and Liam smiled and waved. My brother was tall, dark, and handsome, and my stomach tied in knots as I realized that Isaac Charles assumed all the wrong things about him and me. I watched as Isaac waved back at him. He didn't seem overly jealous or upset, but there was some slight underlying confusion and maybe a little irritation that I couldn't help but notice.

  I could have done a lot of things at that point. I could have said, "He's my brother," in that same lip-reading way I had used before. Heck, I could have motioned him in and introduced them for that matter.

  I didn’t do either of those things, however.

  I was tempted to, but I didn’t.

  Instead, I smiled and waved as if it had been really nice to casually run into him. He waved back, and I watched as he turned and kept walking. The temperature had dropped since the sun went down, and he was now wearing a light jacket over his T-shirt. I watched him walk away, wondering why I couldn’t stop myself from getting nervous in his presence.

  "Who was that?" Liam asked.

  "Isaac," I said.

  "You said that already, but who is he?"

  "Courtney's friend. Courtney's guy. That guy who designed her building. Her architect. I only know him because he came to the station for an interview today. He talked to Cindy. She asked him for his number and stuff. He'll probably call her."

  Liam stared at me for a few seconds after I finally quit rambling. "Why are you so nervous?" he asked, looking amused.

  "I'm not."

  He leaned over and peeked under the table at my feet, which had begun to shake and wiggle without me even realizing it.

  I tried to stop as soon as I realized what Liam was looking at. "What? I'm cold." I said. "I'm not nervous."

  "Is that the guy Courtney was talking about setting you up with when we were at Shug's the other night?"

  "I don't know," I said with a shrug.

  "You don't know?" Liam asked, grinning at me as he raised one eyebrow.

  "He's just a guy," I said. "I met him today when he came to the station to do an interview."

  Our server came to the table, carrying our plates and saving me from embarrassing myself any further. It had been a long, full day, and I was too tired and de
lirious to keep my thoughts straight and stop myself from rambling. I had ordered chicken and pasta, and I gazed at it before smiling at our server.

  "Thank you," I said.

  "My pleasure," he said. "Can I bring y'all anything else?"

  "I'll take some ketchup," Liam said, since he ordered sliders and fries.

  Our server nodded as he took off. "I'll be right back with that."

  I grabbed a french fry off of Liam's plate and popped it into my mouth.

  "That dude looks like Nick Carson," Liam said.

  "Who, him?" I asked glancing at the server's back, even though I knew that wasn't who Liam was talking about.

  "That guy who was standing outside," he said. "The architect."

  "You think?" I asked, scrunching up my face like I didn't see it even though clearly I did.

  Nick was a guy we knew from way back.

  He had gone to our high school and to our family's church before moving to Los Angeles to pursue an acting career. As far as I knew, he hadn't made it in film, but he had definitely done some modeling. I was aware of this because I followed him on Instagram, and he was constantly posting pictures.

  The truth was, Isaac Charles bore a striking resemblance to Nick. I had already thought of that earlier. They were both blessed with good hair and those splendid cheekbones—too handsome for their own good.

  "I thought he was Nick when he first walked up," Liam said.

  "Huh, that's funny. I kinda see it a little." I nodded, faking nonchalance as I chewed my food.

  Chapter 6

  Two days later, I got a text from an unknown number with a Chicago area code.

  It was 5pm on a Thursday, which was Friday for me. I still had a couple hours of work, and I was exhausted after a long week, but I felt suddenly reenergized when the text came in.

  Unknown number: "My name is Isaac Charles. I got this number from Courtney. I'm trying to reach Shelby in regards to a haircut."

  I put my phone away after I read it, forcing myself to wait a minute before responding.

  Finally, I typed a response.

  Me: "Hey, this is Shelby. And yeah, I can work you in for a trim. It would be at my house. Nothing glamorous. If this works for you, let me know, and we'll figure out a time."

  I heard back within seconds.

  Isaac: "Non-glamor is preferable. When can you fit me in?"

  Me: "Starting tomorrow, I've got three days off work. I can do anytime before 6pm tomorrow, or we can look at doing it another day."

  Isaac: "Tomorrow works. I can do 8am or 2pm."

  I laughed out loud when I read his text. On my days off, I liked to stay in bed until at least 9:30.

  Me: "Definitely not 8. (insert winky-face emoji) 2 o'clock sounds good, though."

  I included my address, and Isaac responded by saying 'thanks' and that he would see me the following afternoon.

  I was far more nervous than I should have been. There was no reason for me to be this wound-up over a silly little haircut, but I couldn't help it—my body was inexplicably amped about it. I spent the whole morning cleaning my house from top to bottom and getting onto Patrick the whole time about how much he shed even though I had never really noticed it before. He just followed me around staring at me like I was a crazy person for cleaning so much.

  Isaac pulled into my driveway at 2 o'clock on the dot. A cool front had come in, and Patrick and I were sitting on the front porch enjoying the crisp fall weather when Isaac arrived. He was driving a black truck and he stepped out of it, stashing his keys in his pocket. He had on jeans and a long-sleeve thermal shirt with a fleece vest that made him look like a commercial for North Face clothing. I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew how to ride a motorcycle.

  He smiled at me and gave me a little wave but his expression fell quickly and comically when Patrick gave two loud barks and began running down the steps toward him. I had been holding Patrick's collar when Isaac drove up, but he was excited to check Isaac out and was pulling relentlessly, so I let him go. It wasn't until I saw Isaac's shift in expression and watched him brace himself that I realized maybe that was a mistake.

  "Are you scared of dogs?" I yelled regretfully.

  "Should I be?" Isaac asked as he stiffened as if waiting for the worst.

  "Patrick!" I yelled. "Come here, boy!"

  Patrick cowered, hesitating near Isaac and looking up at him and wagging his tail in his new hunched-over position as if asking Isaac to assure me it was okay for him to stay.

  "Patrick!" I repeated as I made my way off of the porch in their direction.

  "It's fine," Isaac said, offering Patrick the back of his hand to smell.

  Isaac saw that Patrick didn't mean him any harm, and he stooped and began rubbing him behind the ears before smiling at me.

  "You didn't tell me you had a Great Dane," he said. "You mentioned that your dog had spots, and I pictured a Pointer or a Dalmatian."

  He stood and continued rubbing Patrick's back with long confident strokes that assured me he wasn't scared.

  "Oh, I see the clover," he said, inspecting his back. "I'm sorry I called you Patrick Swayze," he added, talking directly to my dog.

  "He liked it," I said. "It made him feel cool."

  "He is cool. My Aunt had one of these when I was growing up, but I didn't get to see it that much, and I don't think it was this big."

  Patrick sat on his haunches and lifted his paw, showing off for Isaac. I started to tell him not to be such a ham, but Isaac stooped and shook his paw. "It's nice to meet you, too, Patrick," he said, looking impressed.

  He stood again, smiling at me and gesturing to my house. "Nice place you have here."

  "Thank you. I love it. Though it may be kind of plain for someone who makes Dr. Seuss buildings."

  He let out a little chuckle as we began to make our way across the yard to my front porch. "I'm sure I do take inspiration from Dr. Seuss," he said. "Not intentionally, but I did love his books and drawings when I was growing up, and I bet that comes out in my work."

  Patrick walked between us, and I rested my hand on his neck.

  "I probably shouldn't have said that," I said. "But I meant it as a compliment."

  "I took it as a compliment," Isaac said, glancing at me.

  My brother was right, Isaac did resemble Nick Carson—only his features were more pronounced, making him, in my mind, even more handsome than Nick. The fall breeze shifted in just the right way, and I caught a whiff of his masculine cologne, which only made matters worse.

  Isaac reached down to touch Patrick's back before we climbed the steps to the porch, and our hands touched. It was insignificant, and I was fairly sure he didn't even notice, but it caused some unknown sensation to happen inside me, which made me pull my hand away and begin climbing the steps in a hurry. I made a kissing noise, calling Patrick to follow me, but he was already in the process of doing it.

  I loved my house. It was modest, but it was comfortable, cozy, and had lots of charm. Plus, it was situated in an older, quiet neighborhood. It was a three-bedroom craftsman style home—gray with white trim. The front porch was about eight feet wide, and we crossed it before I opened the door and held it open for Isaac.

  It smelled good inside. (It better after all of my labor that morning.) I had a diffuser going with eucalyptus and peppermint essential oils. I had a warm, eclectic style with lots of comfortable furniture and colorful art that I had collected over the years.

  Patrick bounded in ahead of us but turned around once he got into the living room. He stared at Isaac is if waiting to see what he thought of the place.

  "It's normally a take off your shoes house," I said, motioning to the coat rack by the door. "But those rules don't apply since you're just here for a haircut."

  I gestured for him to follow me and began walking down the hallway toward the bedroom that I had repurposed for my salon space. It shared a wall with a bathroom, so when I moved in, my family helped me install a shampoo bowl by tying into the exist
ing plumbing. Patrick tried to follow us, but I closed the door before he could come in, knowing he'd just walk around the whole time and ultimately end up with hair all over his paws.

  Other than my family and a very few select friends, I didn't do much hair in my little home salon. I had done a lot of work on the space, though, and had it all fixed up just the way I liked it. There was a lot of light in the room, and the walls were painted a dark gray that worked well with the wood tones of the dresser and mirror that served as my station. Pictures and posters were framed and hung on the walls, making it feel trendy and inviting. I loved music, and I had a nice speaker system in my house. Two of the speakers were in this room, and I had a folk-rock playlist selected. I felt like the ambiance of room represented me, and this put me somewhat at ease.

  I smiled at him once we came inside. "Come sit in the chair and we'll talk about your haircut before we shampoo or do anything else."

  Isaac followed me to the salon chair and sat in it without saying a word. He moved slowly, looking all around and grinning at the room. I could tell he wanted to say something but was hesitant to do so. I couldn't tell if he wanted to mention the room, or the fact that I knew Courtney and didn't tell him, or that he saw me through the window at the restaurant the other night. I knew he was contemplating saying something, but he remained quiet and thoughtful.

  I patted the chair, and he sat in it before I swiveled it so that we could regard each other through the reflection in the mirror. I draped him with a cape—one that was larger than the one I used on him at the station—one that would fully prevent his hair from falling onto his clothes.

  I wasn't normally nervous for haircuts, but I was for this one. I told myself it was because Isaac was an important person who was in the public eye, but that was a flat out lie.

  The fact was I liked him.

  I was attracted to him.

  Just looking at him gave me an ooey-gooey feeling in the pit of my stomach.