CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Pa, you ready to go?”
Isaac couldn’t stop his head from turning instantly toward the sound of Sanna’s voice. She strode from the side of the barn toward the ATV, where Einars sat next to him. Bass followed behind, carrying a crate of bottles. Her floppy hat kept her face in shadow, but he didn’t need to see it to know there were light pink roses on her cheeks from a day of working or that her sharp blue eyes took in his every motion before turning away.
After last night’s hug and covert neck kissing—which wasn’t really a kiss, but it wasn’t not a kiss either—he had decided the best way to handle this attraction was to embrace it. Resisting would only prolong the emotions. If he let it run its course, the sooner it would evaporate, and he’d stop feeling like a teenager ogling the girl next door.
“Where you headed? I can take him,” Isaac offered.
Sanna stopped in front of him. She wet a bandana from her water bottle and wrapped it around her neck—stray drips escaped to trace a path down her chest and disappear into the tank top she wore under a long-sleeve denim shirt.
“It’s haircut day.”
Typical Sanna, only giving the barest of information. This woman was driving him crazy.
“What Sanna isn’t explaining,” Einars chimed in, “is that we normally cut each other’s hair, but I can’t cut hers with my arm cast, so we have to go to Mrs. Dibble’s salon.”
Mrs. Dibble had a salon? Sanna must have noticed his confused expression.
“She owns a hair salon. She rarely cuts hair anymore, but she still goes there almost every day. It’s the best place to hear the latest local dirt.” Sanna rolled her eyes. “Maybe I’ll grow my hair out.”
“I can cut it,” Isaac said. “I’ve been trimming Bass’s for years. And you look good, right, Tuna?” Bass had climbed between Isaac’s legs in the ATV and pretended to drive.
“Sure, Dad.” He smiled, glad to be included in the conversation, then pretended to push some buttons—most likely destroying the Death Star or flying a fighter jet.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll bring the truck around.” Sanna sniffed.
“That’s probably for the best. Now that it’s August, I’m sure Mrs. Dibble can’t wait to get the full story about how it’s going with Bass and Isaac,” Einars added, smiling when Sanna crossed her arms.
Isaac could see her calculating which was the worse option. Exposing herself to an hour of Mrs. Dibble’s meddling, which would fuel the Door County gossip train, or letting him touch her hair. He held his breath, unable to guess which would be the lesser of two evils and hoping it was him.
Sanna eyed Bass’s head as if trying to determine the quality.
“Let’s do it before dinner. You can cut Pa’s hair, but first let me get in a shower.” She nodded decisively, then disappeared into the house.
“I can’t believe she said yes,” Isaac said.
“You have no idea how nosy Mrs. Dibble can be on her own turf. She’d probably let a blindfolded Bass cut her hair.” Einars looked at Isaac. “You sure you can do this?”
Isaac thought of all the times he’d trimmed the hair on Bass’s wiggly toddler head bribing him to stay still just two more minutes.
“I’ve got this. I’ll go get my kit from the trailer, and we’ll be back in a few.” He got out of the ATV after nudging Bass to get off him. “Can you get inside okay?”
“Don’t worry about me. It’s like these crutches are a part of me now. Take the ATV.”
Isaac nodded and zoomed off with Bass in the passenger seat, veering down the rows that would get him to the trailer the quickest, knowing exactly where to cut across so he’d arrive exactly at the steps, where the geraniums were still blooming. It had been almost six weeks since they arrived, and this little trailer felt more like home than San Jose had for the past five years. Between his business, Bass’s school, and managing Paige’s latest crisis, he rarely had the chance to enjoy quality time with Bass when they lived in California. He’d spent more time with him this summer than he had since Bass’s first day of school. In San Jose, he would work late most nights, pausing only to make dinner and put Bass to bed. Here, once the orchard work was done, they were together. With only Bass to focus on, he had learned to slow down and appreciate each day. He was grateful.
It didn’t take long to return to the farmhouse. Sanna had already finished her shower, hair damp and pushed back off her forehead, the ends curling from the humidity. She puttered in the kitchen, peeling potatoes at the high countertop. She used the peeler to point him toward the bathroom, but gave no other acknowledgment that he was present. Was she distracted with thoughts of the orchard? Or, he could hope, distracted with thoughts of him?
It didn’t take long to trim Einars’s thinning hair or even to wrangle Bass for a quick taming of his wild curls. Isaac used the broom to sweep the hair into a small pile in the corner. When he turned, Sanna stood in the doorway. The previously spacious and airy white bathroom shrunk by half as she took a step toward him. He pointed to the stool he had pulled in earlier from the kitchen and she sat, her long legs stretched out in front of her, distracting him. His mind blanked as he searched for something to talk about.
Focus on the hair.
He used the black barber-style comb to smooth out her nearly dry locks—it slid easily through the blushing strands, but he was careful not to pull when it hit a knot. He cleared his throat.
“Okay, miss. How do you like it?”
“Excuse me?” Sanna said, looking horrified in the mirror.
“Your hair. How do you like it cut?”
“Oh, right, yeah, the same length as my earlobe.”
At present, her hair brushed the middle of her pale neck. Up close, he could see uneven lines where Einars had cut it previously and was relieved he didn’t have sky-high standards to meet. He took a lock next to her face between his two fingers and lifted it so the end brushed the bottom of her ear. She jumped, then settled into place, but he could see the thrum of her heartbeat in her white throat. Its pace matched his own.
“Is this about right?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice softer than he had ever heard it before, like she had just woken up and the fog of sleep hadn’t quite lifted.
Though the door was open, Isaac couldn’t see Einars or Bass, he could only hear Einars telling Bass to grab plates and forks for dinner, then the sound of a baseball game on the TV. They had privacy for the first time since she’d kissed him in the barn. In fact, he suspected Einars was keeping Bass distracted so he and Sanna wouldn’t be interrupted. Sanna sat on the stool facing the large mirror over the sink and counter. When he gathered the top layer of her hair on top of her head in some clips that had come with the haircutting kit, she closed her eyes. She seemed to relax into the moment. In silence, he snipped, the hair falling like golden snow on the fluffy blue towel she had wrapped around her shoulders.
As he bent close to inspect his precision along her nape, the subtle scent of roses and something less common filled his lungs and went straight to his heart. He held in a groan, but couldn’t help letting a small sigh whisper across the back of her neck. Sanna inhaled quickly, but didn’t move away. Goose bumps arose where his breath had touched.
Satisfied the bottom half was even, he released the top half, combing it again, taking longer than was strictly necessary. He liked watching her when her eyes were closed. He had never seen her this relaxed, like a cat after you’d found its preferred spot for scratching. He began snipping again, pulling each silky section between his fingers. To make sure the sides were even, he stood directly in front of her and pulled a strand from each side of her face, bending inches from her, the subtle rose scent torturing him in a horribly pleasant way. Each strand traced a path through his fingertips, shooting jolts up his arms that stopped his lungs and sent his heart racing.
He could no longer deny he cared for her. The way her direct gaze and honest turn of phrase challenged him only drew him in. He wanted to break through and understand what made her smile and laugh and why she carefully guarded each word, as though using them too frequently would cheapen their worth. Watching her teach Bass how to sanitize her equipment and about the balance of flavors warmed his heart, and he realized that despite her vocal dislike of children, Bass had wormed his way into her heart. He was fascinated by how she could fix anything at the orchard from Elliot to a sick tree. And that kiss, brief though it was, would forever haunt his dreams.
He had never imagined he’d find someone who challenged him this way. Paige had always needed a protector, a guardian. Without him, even after they had divorced, she required his assistance with paying bills, getting to work when her car broke down, and even keeping food in the fridge. She was helpless. Sanna needed no one. If she spent time with him, it was because she chose to be there, no other reason. He wanted to be by her side, living in her passion for Idun’s, helping her in whatever way he could. If that meant spraying trees, or hauling crates of bottles, or cutting her hair in a much too small bathroom, he wanted to be there for her—not because she needed him to be, but because she wanted him to be.
But even with all his wishes and wants, he knew nothing could come of this feeling. He grinned a bit at the thought of her deciding whether he was worth her time. Instead, he’d do whatever she needed of him before the season ended. He’d leave her and the orchard in a better place than he’d found them and it would be enough.
With his face inches from hers, her eyes popped open.
“Is something funny?”
He should pull back, but her perfume or shampoo or lotion or whatever the source was kept him there. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. Her breath picked up, her eyes on his, and he couldn’t find any words to speak. He inched closer, his newly formed resolve crumbling. Who knew he was so weak? Sanna’s eyes flicked to his lips as his fingers let the strands of hair drop from his fingers, and he moved his hands toward her face. She tilted her chin up to meet him.
“Are you done yet? Dinner’s ready,” Bass said, his body appearing in the doorway.
Isaac froze, then let his fingers run through her hair one last time before standing straight again.
“Just making sure it’s even.” His voice cracked. “We’ll be there in a minute, Minnow.”
Bass disappeared, and Sanna’s eyes followed Isaac in the mirror as he slowly removed the towel from her shoulders, using a corner to wipe a few errant hairs off her neck. The skin on her nape pinkened where he had touched her. He set the towel on the counter and stood behind her, gazing at her steadily in the mirror.
“All done.” He took a step back, escaping the pull of her.
Sanna moved her head back and forth, looking at the new cut from all sides. She stood and turned, the stool between them.
“It’s the best haircut I’ve ever had. Don’t tell my dad.”
She smiled at him. A real, full smile. The tension eased now that he didn’t have his hands on her. If he could maintain some physical distance, then maybe he could stick to his resolution not to complicate the growing friendship between them.
“At your service, madam.” He bowed his head. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Thank you.” She left, and Isaac could hear Einars making a fuss about her haircut.
Isaac picked up the towel and shook the strawberry-blond trimmings to the ground, where he carefully swept them into a dustpan and then into the trash. It was simple. He couldn’t be that close to her again or he’d have to kiss her, and not the peck she’d given him, a real, long, slow kiss. He shoved the towel into the clothes hamper and took a deep breath, letting his nerves relax. He could hear the chairs scraping at the table as the small group sat down. Before leaving the bathroom, he brought his fingertips to his nose. They still held the scent of Sanna. Just like that, the pull toward her felt even tighter than before.