She stood absorbing it for a moment, looking up the stairs that neatly bisected the main level. Dana’s bookstore on one side, and Malory’s gallery on the other. With my salon over them, she thought. The communal kitchen in the back, then the nice little yard where one day, she hoped, they would set up tables where customers could sit and enjoy refreshments during good weather.

Though it would be weeks before Indulgence could open, it was already a dream come true for Zoe.

“Hey. Where’s the rest of your crew?”

Zoe brought herself back and looked over to see Dana stroll into the little foyer. “Out in the back. I’m sorry I’m late.”

“We’ve already docked your pay. Or we will, once we get a time clock. Jeez, lose the guilty look, Zoe. Nobody’s set hours yet, especially on Saturday.”

“I meant to be here an hour and a half ago,” she said as she shrugged out of her coat, “but I slept late. I didn’t get up until nearly eight.”

“Eight!” Dana exclaimed in horror “Why, you lazy bitch!”

“I don’t know how Simon kept that dog quiet—or vice versa—but when I got up they were in the backyard. By the time I made them presentable, got them breakfast, pulled myself together, I was way behind. Then I stopped by Flynn’s, thinking I would drop Moe off, but nobody was home, which made Simon’s day.”

She let out a sigh. “Dana, I’m going to end up getting him a dog. I just know it.”

Dana’s dimples appeared in her cheeks as she grinned. “Sap.”

“That’s the God’s truth. I didn’t know everybody was coming over here today.”

“Figured we’d give it a nice big Saturday push.”

“That’s good.” Ready to dive in, Zoe strapped on her tool belt. “What are you up to?”

“I was up to putting the second coat of varnish on my floors, but Jordan claims I don’t do it right. So he’s putting it on, which leaves me painting the kitchen, as the unanimous opinion around here is that painting’s all I’m good for.”

“You’re an excellent painter,” Zoe said diplomatically.

“Hmm. Malory and Flynn were doing the varnish in her spot, but she claims he doesn’t do it right, so he was sent upstairs to work with Brad.”

“Upstairs? In my place? What’s Bradley doing upstairs in my place?”

“I think he was . . .” Dana decided to save her breath as Zoe was already sprinting up to see for herself.

The walls of the salon area had already been painted by her own hand. They were a deep pink that edged toward purple. A rich color, she’d thought, a feminine one, but not so girly that a man would be put off by it.

For contrast, on the trim and for the counters she’d begun to build, she was going to go with a bold green, then take these same colors, in softer hues, into her treatment areas.

The floors were already sanded and sealed—a chore she’d taken care of personally, then protected with drop cloths.

She had plans for displays, and had already picked out the fabric to make slipcovers for a secondhand couch and a couple of chairs she had on hold.

She’d decided on the lighting, on the treatment tables, even on the color of the towels she would use. Everything in her salon would have her touch, reflect her vision, and be created by her own two hands.

And there was Bradley Charles Vane IV busily sawing the board for one of her counter stations.

“What are you doing?”

Nobody heard her, of course. Not with Brad’s saw buzzing, and Flynn’s nail gun popping, and the damn music blaring.

She might as well not even be there. Well, she would fix that, right this minute.

She marched over until her shadow fell across the board and the template Brad was following. He glanced up, gave her a little head jerk to indicate she was in his light.

She stood her ground.

“I want to know what you’re doing.”

“Hold on a minute,” he shouted right back at her, and finished running the blade through the board. He turned off the saw, shoved up his safety goggles.

“Your laminate came in.”

“I want—my laminate?” The thrill of that had her spinning around in the direction he pointed. And there it was, that wonderful bold green. “It’s perfect. I knew it would be perfect. It wasn’t supposed to come in until next week.”

“Got in early.” He’d put a rush on it. “We ought to be able to have a couple of these done today.”

“I don’t expect you to—”

“Hi, Zo.” Flynn set the nail gun down, grinned up at her. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s really nice of you to pitch in this way. Give up your Saturday and all. But I can do this if you want to . . . do something else.”

“We’ve got a good start on it.” He glanced past her. “Where are the big dog and the small boy?”

“They’re out back. I didn’t know what to do with them.”

“Plenty of room to run around out there. I’ll go check on them.” Flynn got to his feet. “Want coffee when I come back?”

“Only if you didn’t make it,” Brad told him.

“Ingrate.” Flynn gave Zoe a wink, then left them alone.

“I don’t want you to—”

“You’ve got a good design,” Brad interrupted. “For your stations. Neat and simple. It’s easy to follow your plans, get a good sense of what you have in mind.”

She folded her arms. “I didn’t expect anybody would have to follow them.”

“You do good work.” He paused a beat while she stared at him. “Careful planning, good choices, a flair for design. Any reason why you have to do everything yourself?”

“No. You just shouldn’t feel obligated, that’s all.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Ingrate.”

Defeated, she let out a half laugh. “Maybe it’s more that I know what kind of work I do, but I don’t know if you’re any good.” She walked around the base of the counter he was finishing for her. “I guess you do okay.”

“My granddaddy’d be so proud to hear that.”

With the wood between them, she gave him a quick, easy smile. “I want to cut the laminate myself. I just want to be able to . . .”