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Allowed myself to touch one of those curls that had been straightened out.
It looked nice, felt better, but I liked the curls better. “This is pretty, baby.”
She blinked.
“Your hair straight.” I released the lock. “But I like your curls better.”
Another blink.
“They’re like coiled silk.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t understand you.”
“Me neither.”
I stepped closer. Inhaled.
Sweet and floral and tart.
And…I gave in.
Fourteen
Billie Rose
He was close.
And I was babbling.
About my nerdy planning hobby.
He couldn’t possibly have the least bit of interest in my preference for letter-sized planners over A5 (my to-do list was long, and my writing was big, so I needed the extra room). He didn’t even know what washi tape was, and he certainly didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d like stickers.
And…I shouldn’t care if he was or wasn’t.
I just…didn’t want him to think I was dumb.
That something Ilovedwas dumb.
Which was the only explanation I could come up with for why I kept blathering on like an idiot.
“This is pretty, baby.”
I blinked, thinking at first, he was talking about my supplies, whichwerepretty.
Then he kept talking. “Your hair straight, but I like your curls better.”
I swallowed hard, locked my knees.
“They’re like coiled silk.”
Coiled silk.Coiled.Silk. What the fuck was this man doing? “I don’t understand you.”
“Me neither.”
But he didn’t back away or leave. In fact, he seemed to lean closer, to inhale.
And I kept blathering.
