He nodded a head that was so smolderingly handsome it could have graced one of the posters for men’s hairstyles that came to the shop on a monthly basis. And he had hair great enough to qualify as a poster boy, too. Thick, shiny deep mink-colored hair, cut short on the sides and in the back, and left longer on top in finger-combed waves, that had a charm—and a sexiness—all its own.
He also had eyes that were so dark brown they were the color of espresso beans, bordered by lashes so thick they should have been outlawed. His nose was slightly hawkish above those supple lips, and his facial structure included pronounced cheekbones and a jawline that could have been carved from granite. Plus, he was tall, lean and muscular, and couldn’t have been better suited to the low-slung jeans he was wearing with a gray sweatshirt over a white T-shirt, under a denim jacket, with the sweatshirt’s hood pulled above the jacket’s collar in back.
“I’d better get going,” Shandie said when she realized silence had fallen between them and she was the one doing the staring now and really should end this whole thing. “I have a haircut due in any minute.”
“I still need a big bike,” Kayla reminded her.
“She’s three,” Shandie said. “I think there’s a handbook somewhere that says she gets points for persistence.”
Dax Traub smiled again and aimed his dark eyes at Kayla. “You tell Jack S. that you know where there are a lot of bikes bigger than his and if he doesn’t leave you alone I’ll bring one over to show him what a baby he is.”
Shandie flinched. “Oh, don’t say that. She’ll make you stick to it.”
“That’s okay. We have to keep these hotshots in line,” he said.
“I’ll tell ’im,” Kayla assured, clearly feeling victorious.
“Anyway, again, I’m sorry for bothering you,” Shandie said before any more promises could be made.
Dax Traub’s smile this time was pure devilish charisma, and he flashed it at mother and daughter. “No bother. I’m glad I got to meet you. Both.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Shandie said, not sounding anywhere near as smooth as he did. “Do you mind if I go out the way I came in?” she added with a nod toward the garage.
“I can’t think of a reason I would.”
“Okay, thanks. And thanks for not letting Kayla get any farther away than your showroom.”
“Sure.”
“Bye, Dax-like-Max-the-dog,” Kayla said, being silly and swiveling on her mother’s hip so she could look over Shandie’s shoulder at the shop owner as Shandie turned to go.
“Bye, Kayla Jane Solomon,” he countered as if they were sharing a private joke.
Which they must have been because her daughter giggled.
“Feel free to come and see me again,” he added.
Shandie wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to Kayla or to them both and as she reached the doorway to the garage she glanced over her own shoulder to see if she could tell.
But all she saw was Dax Traub smiling again, crookedly, and with enough mischief to leave more questions than answers.
And to confirm what she’d garnered from the things she’d heard said about him even before she’d met him—that Dax Traub was trouble.
Fun trouble.
But definitely trouble.
Which was the last thing Shandie Solomon was looking for.
Chapter Two
Tuesday was unbelievably busy for Shandie. The days before any holiday were usually booked solid with people wanting to look their best for upcoming celebrations, and even without an established client list she had back-to-back appointments scheduled. She also ended up dealing with a disgruntled plumber, construction havoc, an electrician who wanted to cut off all the power rather than only a section of the shop at a time, and two trips to the bakery to replenish the goodies she was using as incentive to keep customers coming in during the remodeling.
Along with getting Kayla to and from preschool and making sure her daughter was taken care of once Kayla was at the shop afterward, it certainly seemed to Shandie that that should have been more than enough to keep her mind occupied. And yet thoughts of Dax Traub had still managed to creep through the cracks when she least expected them.
It was a problem she’d had since she’d met him the previous day. The whole way home, the entire evening with Kayla, as Shandie had tried reading in bed the night before, Dax Traub had intruded.
He’d been on her mind the moment her alarm had snatched her from sleep this morning, too. He’d plagued her thoughts all through getting herself and her daughter ready for the day. But she’d been convinced that getting to work, pouring herself into her job, would finally put an end to it.
Only it hadn’t. And as she escorted the last customer out of the shop, told Kayla to pick up her toys and headed for the laundry room to fold clean towels for Wednesday, Shandie was frustrated with herself.
Of course, she might have had better luck not thinking about Dax Traub today at work if the subject of him hadn’t come up again and again throughout the day, she thought. Women customers she didn’t know and who would otherwise not have drawn her notice had made her all-ears at the repeated mention of his name.
Not that the conversations about him had been particularly enlightening. They’d been basically speculation and curiosity about whether or not he would go to the big pre-Thanksgiving dinner his friends were having Wednesday evening at The Rib Shack, the new restaurant Dax’s brother, D.J., had just returned to Thunder Canyon to open at the ski resort. There was particular concern about a recent fistfight between the brothers and whether it might be repeated if Dax did go.
There was also concern about Dax himself. Apparently, none of his old friends knew what was up with him lately or how to bring him out of his funk, or whether it was better to leave him to sort through his problems on his own, whatever those problems were—and no one was completely clear about that, either.
There was something she was perfectly clear about, however, Shandie thought as she stood at the dryer folding towels. When she added the information she’d gathered about Dax Traub—vague though it was—to the other things she’d heard through the grapevine, she knew it was that much more ridiculous for her to be giving the man a second thought.
So why had the image of him, the memory of the sound of his voice and every word he’d said, followed her through the past twenty-four hours like a stubborn ghost determined to haunt her? Why had she seized every opportunity to come into this laundry room and peer out the window at the alley and the rear of the motorcycle shop?
And, each time she had, why had she felt a hint of hope that she would catch a glimpse of the man himself, and then been let down when she hadn’t?
It doesn’t matter why, she told herself as she suffered the gazillionth wave of that disappointment when—in the course of folding the towels—she’d just gone through the whole process once again. It didn’t matter why she’d been so distracted by thoughts of Dax Traub or that she’d been peeking out at his shop to catch sight of him—it just needed to stop.
“So stop it,” she ordered under her breath even as her gaze drifted through the glass to the rear of his place.
She wanted to. She honestly did. Thunder Canyon was a fresh start for her. Leaving Denver and all the reminders of Pete was a big step, and she’d finally been able to take it because she was ready to move on. The past three and a half years had been rough, but she’d made her way through it all and she honestly felt as if she’d come out on the other side of a mountain. She’d even talked to Judy about maybe dating once she got to Thunder Canyon.
But maybe dating—down the road, at some