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“You heard me.”
“No wearing black?”
“Yes, I don’t like it on you.”
“I don’t think you get to dictate what I wear, Gray.”
“Sure, I do. That’s exactly what you agreed to before.”
“I said that you could choose my clothes sometimes. That I liked the idea of not having to make all the decisions all the time. But a blanket ban on wearing black is kind of insane . . .”
He cupped her chin. “No wearing black. I don’t like it. You wear gold and purple or any other cheerful colors you want. But no black. It’s not you. And I won’t have it.”
33
Aban on black? Seriously?
He definitely had a one-way ticket to Looneyville.
Lucky he was so cute.
“You didn’t look like you,” he insisted again. “You were a shell of yourself. Like the real Maeve was trapped inside, unable to get out.”
“But I . . . I looked nice. They even said so in the article. Sophisticated. Glamorous.”
“But you aren’t those things. Sit forward and then tilt your head back so I can wet your hair.”
“Wait. Are you saying I’m not sophisticated and glamorous? Pretty sure I should find that insulting.”
He gave her a frustrated look. “Don’t mean it like that, girl. I’m saying you were hiding behind that dress. Pretending to be someone else. Like a doll. Pretty on the outside, but with no soul.”
That was . . . incredibly profound. And unexpected.
And she found herself nearly tearing up.
“I like you the way you are,” he muttered. “With your love of gold and purple and velvet. Hell, I’d have taken you out in that butt-ugly teddy bear suit before I’d take you in that dress. But it wasn’t really the clothes. It was the look on your face. Like you weren’t really there.”
He’d thoroughly wet her hair by now and grabbed some shampoo. She moaned quietly as he massaged her scalp.
“Take it that feels good?”
“Oh, yes. Immy took me to a hairdresser right before that photo was taken. She massaged my scalp like this. I moaned then, too. Which was slightly more embarrassing since everyone in the salon heard me make a sex moan during a massage.”
“You’re never going to a salon again.”
“Grumpy Bear, you have got to stop giving these stupid orders.”
“Stupid orders?” he asked in a low, warning voice.
“Uh-huh. Just keep massaging.”
“Now, who is bossy? And it’s not a stupid order, girl. No one gets to hear those moans except me. From now on, I’ll do your hair.”
She had to giggle at that. “You will?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s okay, big guy. That was my first and probably last trip to a salon anyway.”
