Take a Chance on Me Read online

  Take a Chance on Me

  A Love on Chance Avenue Romance

  Jane Porter

  Take a Chance on Me

  Copyright © 2018 Jane Porter

  EPUB Edition

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  First Publication by Tule Publishing Group 2018

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-948342-40-7

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  Dedication

  For all the book girls everywhere—

  We really should rule the world!

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Love on Chance Avenue Series

  Excerpt from Christmas at Copper Mountain

  About The Taming of the Sheenans

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  It wasn’t often that she had a stranger in her chair at The Wright Salon, much less a thirty-something-year-old male, that also happened to be ruggedly handsome, as in the handsome of the inscrutable romance cover hero.

  Amanda Wright knew her romance cover heroes, too, as she and her sister Charity had lived off them growing up, surviving their harsh reality by living on fantasies and fairy tales. Jenny, their oldest sister, had been appalled, and would confiscate their paperbacks, tossing them out if she found them. Which was why Amanda and Charity learned to hide their romances between their mattresses, or stuff them inside the sleeves of their ugly, thrift store rainbow-hued winter coats.

  Romance cover heroes were usually darkly handsome as well as brooding and enigmatic, traits found perhaps in the Highlands or Mediterranean principalities, but not in most small Montana towns. No, in small Montana towns like Marietta, men tended to be polite, practical, and dependable, and there was nothing wrong with practical and dependable men, but it just wasn’t exciting, and Amanda was holding out for a true romance hero, one that wasn’t just handsome, but a man that was powerful, successful, complex. Enigmatic.

  And her client, Ty James, could easily pass for the enigmatic romance hero with his thick brown hair, light eyes the color of the sea, chiseled jaw, and firm chin. Never mind his lips which were pretty much perfect, especially when he smiled, which he didn’t do a lot. But when he did, it was the smile of movie stars—confident, easy, sexy—which made it almost impossible to focus, which wasn’t a good thing as she was wielding very sharp scissors, very close to his strong, tanned nape. True, he had what romance novels called a Roman nose, which meant it wasn’t small and straight, but a little bit prominent, but that just made his features all the more interesting. Amanda liked a good nose on a man, it kept him from being too pretty, and a nose with a hook or bump at the bridge implied he’d had it broken, maybe in a fistfight, maybe through sports. Either way, it was manly. Masculine.

  “You’ve been a stylist for a long time?” he asked, as she gently pressed his head forward a bit, trying to give her a better view of his hairline while also trying to hide his gorgeous reflection from her line of sight. His masculine good looks were distracting. He was distracting, and she didn’t normally fall for just every handsome face. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time a man made her heart pitter-pat, and it wasn’t just doing a pitter-pat right now, but a full-on, racing horse gallop.

  “Nine years,” she answered, “six full-time. The first three I was in college.”

  “You did both?”

  “I needed a job and it turned out I was good at it.”

  “Where did you go to college?”

  “I stayed local. Montana State, in Bozeman.”

  “And what did you study?”

  “Psychology.” She paused, ran her comb through the back of his hair, checking the length, making sure lines were straight. She glanced up into the mirror, caught his eye, and noted his surprise. She shrugged, lips curving. “I like people.”

  “You must get to know your customers quite well.”

  “I do. I’m very attached to my customers.” She paused, smiled again, a little more ruefully. “Well, most of them. There are a couple that drive me slightly bonkers, but they just make me appreciate the rest all the more.”

  “What do the frustrating ones do to drive you bonkers?”

  “Arrive thirty minutes late for a forty-five minute appointment, or forget to show at all.”

  “That’s it?”

  She smiled again, and shrugged. “I have really good customers.”

  His green gaze held hers in the mirror and for a moment she completely lost focus.

  “I noticed you had more starred reviews on Yelp than any other stylist in town,” he said, snapping her attention back.

  “I do encourage them to leave a review if they’re happy,” she answered.

  “Clearly, they’re happy.”

  “It’s a win-win, then.” Amanda felt herself growing warmer by the moment.

  What on earth was wrong with her? Hand shaking, she reached for her colorful bottle on her station shelf and took a quick drink of water, trying to cool herself off. It had obviously been far too long since she’d spent time with an attractive man because this was ridiculous. She was genuinely flustered.

  “You have a name on the back of one of your chairs,” he said, watching her in the mirror. “Is it a memorial?”

  She looked to see where he was pointing and laughed. “Oh, no. No! Bette is very much alive, as well as a very dear client and friend. She did something nice for me and so I gave her her very own chair. Only Bette is allowed to sit there, and that way she always knows I have time—and a spot—for her.”

  “She must have liked that.”

  “I think so.” Mandy took a comb and drew it through his hair, checking the length. “So you’re in town for a meeting tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re staying at the Graff?”

  “It’s a nice hotel.”

  “I’ve never actually stayed there, but it’s fun to go for drinks or their Sunday brunch.”

  “Do you go often?”

  “A couple times a year. Just for special occasions. Most of the time my sister and friends head to Grey’s. More our style, as well as a lot less spendy.”

  Tyler James Justice had expected Amanda Wright to be polished and stylish—she did hair for a living, after all—but he hadn’t expected her to be quite so pretty.

  Or kind.

  Or appealing.

  But she was pretty, strikingly pretty, and disarmingly sweet. Make that charming. For a moment he’d wondered if she’d had work done
, and then he spotted the photo of three gorgeous blonde women tucked into her mirror, their faces close, arms wrapped around each other, and they were all beautiful. “Girlfriends or sisters?” he asked, nodding to the photo.

  She steadied his head, preventing him from moving again. “Sisters. I’m the baby.”

  “When was this picture taken?”

  “My sister’s wedding a couple years ago.”

  “Do your sisters live here in Marietta, too?”

  “Charity does. Jenny and her husband have a ranch in Colorado.”

  “What does Charity do?”

  Mandy didn’t answer immediately, her elegantly arched brows flattening as she concentrated on trimming the hair close to the tip of his right ear. On one hand he was impatient for her to answer, but on the other he appreciated her attention to detail and not nicking his ear.

  “She works as the receptionist for a Realtor on Main Street,” Amanda finally said, before tipping his head forward and taking a razor to his nape, cleaning up the back of his neck. “I’m hoping, though, to eventually bring her here to help me manage the salon.”

  “It wouldn’t be hard working with her?”

  “Not at all. Charity is my best friend. We’re two peas in a pod. Mom used to say we were more like twins than twins. What about you?” she asked. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  He hesitated. “I had a brother. He died serving the country.”

  Her hand went to his shoulder, her touch firm, warm. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

  He swallowed around the unexpected lump in his throat. He rarely talked about Coby, and he never got emotional when he did, and he wasn’t at all sure why he’d mentioned his brother to her, and he certainly didn’t want to continue with such a personal conversation. He hadn’t come here to Marietta to be anyone’s friend. He was worried about his grandmother, and in particular, this young woman’s influence over his grandmother. It was a difficult time to be away from work, too, but when he’d heard his grandmother was considering amending her will to leave her house to Amanda ‘Mandy’ Wright, he knew he had to come and sort things out.

  “I couldn’t imagine losing one of my sisters,” Amanda said after a moment. “It must have devastated your parents.”

  He nodded, unable to say more, because it had devastated them, and Coby’s death had changed the dynamics of the family, not that their family had ever been the perfect family. His father and grandfather had no relationship, which meant Tyler really never knew his grandfather, either. His grandmother, Bette, was another matter. His grandmother was sweetness and light… the kind of grandmother that deserved those silly mugs that read World’s Best Grandmother.

  “You said you were here for business,” the stylist added, thankfully changing the subject. “You must be in the ranching business then.”

  “No. I’m in tech.”

  Her full lips pursed. “Tech?”

  “I design games.”

  “Games?” she repeated, a delicate eyebrow arching.

  “Computer games.”

  “That must be fun.” Her eyes met his in the mirror. She was smiling and her smile did something funny to his chest.

  “It’s creative,” he answered.

  “You’re giving people something fun to do. Good for you. People need entertainment to help us unplug from the world, don’t you think?”

  He found himself watching her as she took the big soft brush and went over his nape, brushing off stray hair. He hated being so cynical, but was she for real? “I do.”

  “I’ve never played games, but I love to read, and go to the movies. Feel-good movies. I avoid the depressing ones.”

  He wished he’d been prepared for her, and not just how pretty she was with her high cheekbones and gleaming blonde hair pulled back in a high teased ponytail, but her kindness and good nature. She reminded him of spring rain—sweet and refreshing—which wasn’t at all his impression of her before he came.

  “How is the length?” she asked, turning the chair and handing him a mirror so he could see the back of his head. “Any shorter?”

  “It’s a little longer than I usually wear it,” Tyler said. “But I like it. Looks good.”

  “I think so, too. It gives you a ’70s rock star vibe.”

  He felt a strange rumble of laughter in his chest, strange because he didn’t really laugh much, not anymore. His world had become so weighty and serious. “I’m far from that.”

  “I don’t know.” A dimple appeared at the corner of her full lips. “If you’re a game designer, you can be anyone you want to be.” She unsnapped the black plastic cape, removing it from around his shoulders. “How long are you in town?”

  “Through the weekend.”

  “Well, I hope you enjoy your stay. Marietta is a great little town. Everyone that comes here, falls in love—”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “With the town,” she finished, laughing again. “But what’s wrong with falling in love?”

  “Nothing. But I’m not looking for love. Or a new place to live. I like Austin.”

  “A Texas boy.”

  California, he wanted to correct her, as he’d only relocated to Austin two years ago, but there was no point in telling her any of that. They weren’t friends, and furthermore, once she knew who he really was, they’d never be friends. The warmth inside of him cooled, and his faint smile faded. Standing, he reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Thirty-five. And you can pay Emily. She’s at the desk in reception.”

  “You did a good job.”

  “Then leave a review,” she teased, reaching for the broom and dustpan tucked in the corner next to her station. “And enjoy Marietta. It’s a great place to be.”

  “I’ll try,” he answered.

  “Not good enough,” she called after him.

  He turned in the doorway to look back at her, all golden blonde and astonishingly pretty in the winter sunlight, and yet she was smiling at him in a way that made his chest ache.

  She made him feel young and hopeful, just as he’d felt as a boy when he’d see a cute girl. But he wasn’t a boy, and he wasn’t in town because he wanted to be, but because he needed to be. He’d arrived to put distance between this woman and his grandmother, a move that wasn’t going to make him popular with anyone, but he was a man who did what needed to be done. That was what had made him who he was today. “Good-bye.”

  “Good luck tomorrow.”

  Tyler felt strangely out of sorts as he left the salon on Church Avenue and walked to his car. A few patches of dirty snow still dotted some of the neighboring lawns, but otherwise the streets and sidewalks were clear. In the distance he could see the peak of Copper Mountain rising behind the small Montana town. So far, he didn’t love or hate Marietta. It was just a small town in the middle of nowhere and not easy to reach. He’d taken two flights to get here from Austin, flying Austin to Denver, and Denver to Bozeman, and then he’d needed a rental car to drive the thirty-five miles from Bozeman to Marietta. Not impossible, just by no means convenient, particularly when there were power struggles internally at TexTron. He’d survive the power struggles, but it would be less stressful weathering storms if he were in the office than here in remote Crawford County, Montana.

  As he crossed the street, he wondered what his grandmother, Bette Justice, would think when she found out he’d booked an appointment with her favorite stylist, Amanda Wright, a young woman she claimed was one of her best friends, and so important to her that in the past few years she’d given her a large financial gift, and was now wanting to leave the young woman her house on Bramble.

  Tyler was a self-made man. He didn’t need his grandmother’s money. But at the same time, he wanted to be sure his grandmother wasn’t being unduly influenced, or pressured in any way. Gram had been on her own for almost seven years now, and it was probably too much isolation from her family, so he wasn’t entirely surprised that she’d come to depend on outsiders,
which was why he was here now. He’d wanted her to move in with him for years, and he’d been trying to convince her that the move would be good for both of them, because he wanted to take care of her. But he couldn’t do that with her in Montana while he was in Austin.

  He’d arrived today in Marietta thinking the worst of Amanda Wright, but after thirty minutes in her chair, he discovered she was nice, and rather charming, and he could see why Gram was fond of her. But there was a difference between being fond of someone and giving them sizeable financial gifts… or a sizable chunk of her estate.

  Gram’s announcement that she would soon amend her will got his attention and he cleared his schedule at work, booked the flights, and now here he was, in his father’s hometown, a town his father absolutely hated.

  Bette Justice arrived at The Wright Salon twenty minutes early for her two o’clock appointment because she’d come bearing gifts—two chicken salads from Java Café.

  “Emily said you had a short break between appointments,” Bette said as Amanda appeared at the receptionist desk. “So we’re going to eat first.”

  “What if I already ate?” Amanda answered, smiling indulgently.

  “But you haven’t. Emily said so.”

  Amanda shot her receptionist an amused glance before leading Bette to the white painted table in the corner of what once had been the dining room but was now a mix of small round tables and comfortable seating for salon guests to use for meals and relaxing in between appointments.

  “By the way, I have news,” Bette said, opening their salads and arranging the place settings on the table.

  “Oh?” Mandy replied, bringing two glasses of water to the table and sitting down opposite Bette.

  “As you know, my grandson wants me to move to California. But he’s getting serious now. He thinks I must move… that it’s not good for me to be living alone.”

  “Why not?”

  “He worries I might fall or have an accident.”