Nobody's Prince Charming (Road to Blissville, #3) by Aimee Nicole Walker

Author:Aimee Nicole Walker [Walker, Aimee Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chasing Rainbows Press LLC
Published: 2018-03-21T00:00:00+00:00

As one would expect in a small town, word got around fast that a legendary rocker was spotted in Curl Up and Dye. I had hoped that no one besides me heard Falcon refer to Wren as his son, but I knew it was too good to be true. Wren might’ve been protected a bit more if the normal sounds of the salon drowned out the conversation, but it was so quiet that you could’ve heard a pin drop. The only noise was the thundering sound of Wren’s steps as he angrily made his way to the front of the salon. The look on his face was darker than any storm cloud I’d ever seen. Even if I hadn’t overheard Falcon refer to Wren as his son, I would’ve seen the resemblance with my own eyes.

The scowl that Wren wore to discourage the world from talking to him was the same one that Falcon used when playing a long guitar riff. Their wry grins were the same, as were the shape of their eyes and mouth. Of course, Wren’s sly grins were reserved for me while Falcon’s seemed contrived to sell records, T-shirts, and concert tickets. There were enough differences that I couldn’t say Wren was Falcon’s carbon copy, but it was plain to see that they were father and son.

The increase in salon traffic was maddening, but I kept a level head. I had two goals: keep the busybodies away from Wren and sell as many products as I could. Buying a haircare product, styling tool, or nail polish was the least they could do after so rudely prying into Wren’s life.

One lady had leaned so far over the high counter of my desk that I thought she was going to fall over it. “Is it true? Was Falcon really here?”

There was absolutely no point in lying. “Yeah, he was here.”

“Oh my God! I saw Falcon’s Descent so many times in the eighties.” I suspected her hairstyle back then was as unfortunate as the high-pitched squeal she let loose in front of me. “I had so many posters of them on the wall.” She sighed dreamily, and I didn’t even want to know where her mind had gone. “Is it true that Wren is his son?” The lady eyed my man up and down like he was her ticket to getting closer to the rock legend.

“That I can’t confirm or deny.”

I then wove a wild tale of how much Falcon loved the massage products upstairs. Josi didn’t buy her oils and salts from a beauty supply outfit, she bought them from Marabel, the same lady who made Wren’s, and now my, goat milk soap. Marabel offered a wide variety of skin, spa, and other amazing products using organic ingredients and high-quality essential oils. Both she and Josh would come out winners by the time I was done with the town.

At the end of the day, I was exhausted from the mental restraint it took to bite my tongue, my face hurt from forcing a smile all day, and my throat felt scratchy from the extra talking.

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