“Pippa, darling, who are you getting freaky with lately?”
I’d respond to the sweet old lady sitting in the salon chair next to me, but I’m too busy choking on the latte I’d been sucking down. I sputter, trying to swallow the iced coffee that’d gone down the wrong pipe.
“Stop wiggling,” Rhonda chides, holding on tight to a chunk of my hair as I try not to die at the words from a lady who hosts her bible studies at Wake and Bake some mornings.
“What?” Rosemary asks innocently, like the question she asked me was completely normal conversation for a Saturday afternoon at the hair salon.
“You can’t just go asking young ladies who they’re boinking, Rosemary,” Lenora chides from next to her friend. They’re both old enough to be my grandmother. In fact, they both were very close with my Grandma Pat before she passed.
“Who uses the word boinking?” Rosemary fires back, her focus on the gossip magazine in front of her. I wish I was underneath one of the hair dryers so I could pretend this conversation wasn’t happening. That might not even work, considering the both of them seem to be hearing things just fine, despite being under the hair dryers themselves. “The kids these days are using the term getting freaky with it.”
If I wasn’t attempting to melt into a puddle of embarrassment because two sweet old ladies are arguing over which terminology to use while discussing my sex life, I’d correct them that neither are relevant terms.
“Leave the girl alone,” Rhonda demands, painting hair dye onto strands of my hair. It’d gotten a shade lighter than I prefer over the summer, so I’ve decided to spend my Saturday getting it touched up. Maybe I should’ve forgone the haircut and color. At least then I wouldn’t have to talk about my nonexistent sex life with half the women of Sutten. But Camden had dropped off a large check for me and everyone who helped with his opening, and I wanted to treat myself after dealing with the people he’d invited. At first, I wanted to tell him not to bother. But it took a lot of ingredients and overtime from my staff. His payment was the right thing to do. I deserved to pamper myself. I just thought it’d be relaxing and I wouldn’t be discussing my sex life with Rhonda and Rosemary on a Saturday afternoon. “Maybe Pippa isn’t sleeping with anyone,” Rhonda continues. “There’s nothing wrong with waiting for the right person.”
I groan, trying to slide down in the salon chair. Rhonda keeps a hold of my hair, pulling on it slightly, which I’m sure shouldn’t be good practice for hairstylists. Isn’t she supposed to be gentle with me?
“Can we have a new subject, please?” I beg.
Rosemary snickers. She knows exactly what she’s doing. I’m never serving her again. “No, dear. You aren’t getting any younger. Soon, someone will have to plant their seed in you.”
Oh my god. It keeps getting worse. My cheeks heat. I’m sure my entire body is red with embarrassment. I want to disappear. Move away from this town forever so I never have to look at Rosemary again and remember her telling me that someone needs to plant their freaking seed in me.
“I didn’t have my first baby until I was twenty-nine,” Rhonda says from behind me, finally being somewhat gentle with me again. “Pippa has time.”
“I had three kids by Pippa’s age,” Lenora adds.
That’s great, Lenora. I’ve started a successful business and have dealt with the loss of my mother on top of helping to keep my family’s ranch afloat in my twenty-three years of living. Just because I haven’t had children yet doesn’t mean I haven’t done anything with my life.
“I have Kitty,” I argue. “She’s high-maintenance enough that she counts as a child.” She was an impulse decision one weekend after my mom passed. I needed something to focus on besides work, something that made me want to come home. So I got Kitty. My next-door neighbor even helps take care of Kitty on long workdays. She lives the best life for a dog rescued from the streets, but it doesn’t make her any less high-maintenance.
Lenora and Rosemary both give me a disappointed look. Damn. They’re awfully judgy, considering they’re the ones prying into my sex life. “A dog named Kitty doesn’t count as a child.”
“Shouldn’t you be telling me I shouldn’t have sex before marriage?” I blurt out. I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth. I didn’t mean to bring attention back to the fact that I haven’t been properly fucked in a while. The words spilled from my mouth before I could do anything about it.
Rosemary and Lenora share a conspiratorial look. Rosemary is the one who speaks up, but she keeps her voice low and hushed, as if she wasn’t just blurting to the entire salon about my sex life. “Listen, Pippa dear,” she whispers. I wonder if she can even hear herself over the sound of the dryers. “God will still love you if you test-drive a little.”
My eyes close as I realize this will be the moment I die from embarrassment. Right here at the Tame Mane because some old lady told me God will still love me if I don’t wait until marriage. I don’t tell her that I’m hardly a virgin. I might as well be one, however, because no one can give me as good of an orgasm as I can give myself.
“Noted,” I squeak. I’m totally mortified. There’s got to be twenty women in here between the hairstylists and customers. And all of them are here to bear witness to my sex life—or should I say lack thereof.
“Oh!” Rosemary cheers excitedly, slapping her magazine against her lap. “Have you met the man who just moved in right next door to you? He looks like he’d be the perfect sin!”
“I think I’d rather be celibate,” I mutter under my breath. The only person who hears it is Rhonda. She gives me a questioning look. I don’t blame her. Camden looks like the perfect option. I’m sure he’s not a two-pump-and-done kind of guy. His jerk of a personality is the problem.
“What’s that?” Lenora yells, sitting forward slightly. Her forehead bumps against the bowl of the dryer. She tries to swat it away, but it doesn’t work. “You said you and him have already boinked?”
“No!” I screech, sitting forward so quickly I almost fall out of my chair. “Definitely not. Never going to happen.”
“You had a hot encounter with the new art owner?” Rosemary asks, equally as loud as her friend.
I didn’t think it could get any worse, but it does. It totally does because I know this town, and I know even if I stood on my chair and addressed every single person in here to tell them Camden and I most definitely have never slept together, the rumors would still spread like wildfire, thanks to Rosemary’s outlandish question.
This can’t be happening. I begin to think of what alias I’ll live under when I move halfway across the country. I always wanted to be named after a princess when I was younger. Could I pass as an Ariel? Or maybe Aurora? What was Snow White’s name again? Was it just Snow White?
I’m spiraling over names of princesses when the tap on my shoulder by Rhonda brings me back to attention.
I look up to find all of the eyes in the salon pointed right at me. “Sorry, I was thinking about work,” I lie. “What’d I miss?”
“I was telling them that the new businessman definitely isn’t your type. And that I thought I saw you out at Slopes with Chase not too long ago.”
“Right,” I answer. I could hug her for rerouting the conversation. While I did enjoy a night out with Chase, the sex definitely wasn’t anything to gush over. The night was fun, and I enjoyed flirting after going through everything with losing my mom, but Chase had finished in under a minute. When he’d asked me if I came, I’d lied because at that point, I was over it.
The ladies here don’t have to know that, though. I’d much prefer them to think I was sleeping with just about anyone else in this town other than Camden.
“Are the two of you dating, then?”
“Never,” I scoff. “Camden is not my type.”
Rosemary smirks. “I meant you and Chase.”
Shit.
I bite my lip, trying to think of a way to cover my oops. “Obviously.” I nervously laugh, well aware that I’m not playing it cool in the slightest. “We’re, uh, just friends,” I answer, telling the truth. I don’t need to elaborate that Chase has called multiple times to go on a date, but I’m not interested. It’s not worth my time to get ready and leave my house if my vibrator can get the job done better than he can.
“What a shame,” Lenora announces sadly. Her forehead wrinkles, becoming even more pronounced. As if my dating life should matter to her.
“You should go after one of the Livingston boys.” This comment comes from Rhonda. Traitor. Everyone might’ve been ready to move on from my dating life as the topic of conversation until she brought it right back up.
The Livingstons own a majority of this town. They’re essentially a founding family of Sutten, and their real estate company, founded by some great-great-grandfather—or maybe there’s a few more greats—has helped them own so much of the land and properties here. There are four Livingston boys, but from my understanding, only two are single. I’m not interested in either. The family is slightly intimidating.
Lucky for me, Terri, a server from our local diner, speaks up from a few chairs down. “I wish the oldest would find someone new. His daughter deserves to have a momma. I still can’t believe Selena is gone.”
My chest feels heavy thinking about Selena Livingston. She was a ray of sunshine in this community. She got in a car accident two months after giving birth to a beautiful baby girl. That was almost two years ago, leaving Dean to care for a newborn all on his own. The Sutten community rallied around the family and helped out, but I still can’t imagine how Dean Livingston must feel.
The air around us gets heavy for a moment. Their daughter, Clara, seems happy. He brings her to church every Sunday, and it’s cute to watch her talk her daddy into doodling funny things on the program or watch her beg for something sweet when he stops in with her at the bakery.
I get lost in my own thoughts as Rhonda finishes painting the dye on my strands of hair. The only thing that pulls me from my thoughts is hearing Rosemary speak up, now from a chair next to mine.
“I think I might have Harold try out one of the scenes from our naughty book club this week.”
Rhonda and I share a look through the mirror. My entire body shakes as I try to hold back a laugh. It’s no use—the snort that comes from my body is completely unladylike and probably a little rude.
Rosemary’s shrug tells me she doesn’t mind. “What, girls?” she asks incredulously. “Surely it isn’t a secret that Harold and I go to pound town.”
