Joan spent more time cutting, and then finally blow-drying, until she was asking Haven, “Well, what do you think?” She handed her a mirror.
A total fucking knockout. That’s what Dare thought. Maybe a little edgier and definitely a lot sexier, but still very much the Haven he— Well, the Haven he’d come to know.
“It feels so much lighter,” Haven said, turning her head back and forth to make it move. She played with the ends as she looked in the mirror. “And so much wavier now.”
“You were long overdue, my dear. It’s so much healthier now,” Joan said, wiping her hands on a towel.
Haven nodded as she continued to look at herself, an awed expression on her face.
“It’s so much shinier now, too,” Cora said. “God, you look freaking fantastic, Haven.”
“I like it,” she said, a big smile lighting up her face. “I like it a lot.” She shot to her feet and gave Joan a hug. “Thank you so much.”
“Oh,” Joan said, caught off guard. The older woman laughed and patted Haven’s back. “You are more than welcome. It’s not every day that I get to give a complete makeover like this. I enjoyed myself.”
“How come you never make me look that good?” Bunny asked, winking at Haven as she brought over a broom.
“Oh, Bunny, you and me both,” Joan said as the women laughed.
The happiness on Haven’s face was a sucker-punch to the gut—Dare was relieved and glad to see it, but also completely blindsided by how damn important it had become to him to see Haven happy. When the hell had that happened? And what did it even mean?
“What do you think, Dare? Do I look different enough?” Haven asked, smiling at him.
“You look good,” he said, unable to hold back the compliment and play it cool. “Really good.”
She grinned like he’d just given her the best present ever. “Well, thank you,” she said. “If it wasn’t for you, I never would’ve known how much I’d like this.”
She was . . . thanking him? Beyond floored, Dare shifted his feet and nodded. “Yeah, of course.” Just then, his cell phone rang. “Better get this,” he said, and then he ducked out of the room—as much to keep his mouth from running away from him as to find out what news might be coming down the line.
HAVEN WASN’T THE least surprised she hadn’t been able to fall back to sleep. Yesterday had been quite possibly the most eventful day of her life—between the motorcycle ride with Dare, what had happened between them at the beach, the club’s decision on relocating them, and having her hair changed. Her brain was like a merry-go-round with no Off switch.
And she was just as happy to be up, because it gave her time she hadn’t taken in a few days to do some baking—cinnamon buns and peanut butter cookies, because of how popular both had been the last time she’d made them.
Waiting for the dough for the buns to rise, Haven lined up balls of cookie dough on the baking sheet and flattened them with presses of a fork. Within minutes of putting the cookies in the oven, the kitchen smelled incredible—like rich peanut butter and sweet cinnamon. Mindlessly filling the minutes until the cookies would be done, she cleaned up and wondered how many more things she could make here before they had to leave. Would her new place have a nice kitchen she could bake in?
A shiver of dread ran over her. Wherever they moved, how were they supposed to live? Cora had waitressing experience, but Haven had no skills at all. She’d never held a job in her life and didn’t even have a high school diploma. The unknowns that lay before her were so numerous she could barely think on them all.
When she’d left Georgia, there’d been a lot of unknowns then, too, of course. But she’d believed to the depths of her soul that whatever happened, wherever she went, it would all be better than where she’d been—trapped in hell with her father.
Now that she’d lived with the Ravens for nearly a month, she wasn’t sure she could believe the same. It was good here. How did she know whatever came next would be, too? Because now that she’d found safety and good people and a little sliver of happiness, the prospect of giving it up hurt in a way that her father’s mean comments and treatment never had. Because she hadn’t let that get under her skin. She’d refused.
But this place . . . oh, and Dare—he was so far under her skin she wasn’t sure how she’d ever get him out. Or if she’d ever find another man who made her feel all the things he did.
The timer on the oven went off, pulling Haven from her thoughts. She scooped the cookies onto a flat expanse of aluminum foil to cool, having made six dozen total. When the ovens reached the correct temperature, she put the buns in to bake next.
Waiting again, sleepiness finally hit her, so Haven busied herself with cleaning up to keep awake. A little before five in the morning, the buns were done and iced, giving Haven just enough time to grab a few hours’ sleep before breakfast—which she planned to attend.