“Very funny.” Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m almost seventeen. It’s my hair. It’s my life.”

“In theory, that is correct.” Jake grinned and looked at Rachel. “Hey, I bet you know my wife. She comes in here to get her hair done.”

“Really?” Rachel’s scissors only stopped for a moment before she decided to continue to play dumb. “What’s her name?”

“Nina,” Emma piped up, holding her head straighter when Rachel gently tilted her chin.

“Same last name?” If she was going to play dumb, she might as well play really dumb, Rachel decided.

“Yes. Malden,” Emma offered again before her dad could speak.

But Jake was quick to point out, “We’re divorced.” He glanced at his watch and then back at his daughter. “How much longer, do you think?”

“A few more minutes, not long,” Rachel remarked. She was cutting Emma’s bangs.

“Dad, you’re not missing anything.” Emma rolled her eyes again. She was quite good at it, but most teenagers Rachel knew had perfected the gesture. “The game will be on DVR when we get home.”

“But it’s the finals, Em!” Jake looked at his watch again.

Rachel perked up. “Hockey?”

“Yeah.” Jake looked at her speculatively.

“Game one.” Rachel positioned herself in front of Emma, checking the sides of her hair, pulling them forward to see if they were even. “Blackhawks and the Wings.”

“You like hockey?” His voice had changed entirely, Rachel noticed. It had gone from that formal chit-chat tone she heard all day to something more rich and warm, like chocolate.

“Love it,” she agreed, picking up the blow dryer.

“Me too.” Jake looked a little blindsided, like he’d rarely come across a woman who loved hockey before.

Well, she supposed that might have been the case, but she’d grown up with it.

Her father had been a huge hockey fan and she’d gone to all the games with him. It was his one indulgence. He had been Rachel’s whole world, but he’d been gone two years now. Cancer. Ah, life’s little ironies.