Chapter 1: Opening Image
Stephanie's salon, Wicked Styles, sat nestled between an old bookstore and a quaint bakery on a charming street lined with eclectic shops. The bell over the door chimed as she walked in, greeting the customers with a warm smile.
"Morning, ladies!" she called out, beelining for her station at the back of the salon.
Rachel, her coworker, was already there, perched on a stool, her short red hair peeking out from under her stylist's cape.
She looked up as Stephanie approached, a curious glint in her green eyes.
"Hey, stranger," Rachel said, taking a sip from her coffee cup. "I thought you were gonna be late today."
Stephanie rolled her eyes, throwing her purse onto the counter. "Ugh, you know how it is. Ethan had an early meeting, so I had to drop him off at the airport before sunrise. I swear, that man works too much."
Rachel's eyebrow arched. "Ethan, huh?
Still pining for your stepson, I see," Rachel said, her voice low and teasing.
Stephanie shot her a look, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, busying herself with setting up her station for the day.
Rachel leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Oh, come on. You can't fool me, Steph. I see the way you look at him when you think no one's watching.
The way your eyes follow him across the room when he's deep in conversation with a client. The way your breath hitches as he laughs with his friends, his muscles moving beneath that neatly pressed polo shirt.
"He's fucking twenty-five, Steph," Rachel said,-her voice a husky purr. "And he's all man. I've seen him around the salon, and let me tell you, he's got an aura about him.