Page 52 of Reaching Roland

Michaela cackled. “How did I not notice that? He's got you wearing more supportive shoes. You must really, really like this guy.”

“Whatever. They're more comfortable, and it makes him happy.” What I didn't say was that I wanted my reward. I hadn't seen Roland's penis yet, but boy did I want to. More than anything. My mouth watered just picturing what I’d felt under his boxers.

“Aw. That's so sweet,” she said, fluttering her lashes.

“What's so sweet?” my favorite voice in the world asked.

I spun around. “Daddy, you're here.”

“Oh, brother,” Austin said. “He says it like he wasn't waiting for you.” Before I could throw my arms around Roland for a hug, Austin stepped in the way and held a hand out tomysilver fox. “Hey, it's nice to see you.”

Roland shook his hand. “It's nice to see you as well.”

I pushed my boss out of the way and stopped in front of Roland. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hello, shortcake.” He opened his arms, and I fell into them. If I had thought his body was attractive before, it was no comparison to being held in his big strong arms. Roland was like a rock, and he made me feel small, safe, and secure.

“I missed you,” he whispered in my ear.

I stepped back and beamed at him. “I missed you, too.”

Michaela made another obnoxious cooing noise, then she hip-checked me to the side and hugged Roland. He peered over his shoulder at me, clearly surprised by her familiarity. She stood up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, and while I couldn't hear her, the smile that lit his face up reassured me that she wasn't talking smack, but thanking him for making me so happy.

Once she stepped back, Austin threw his arm around her shoulders. “Come on, sis. Let's get out of here. They don't need us babysitting them.”

She waved a finger back and forth between Roland and me. “Don't do anything I wouldn't do,” she teased.

Austin's face scrunched up in disgust. “She means at home. Don't do anything here at all.”

Roland's deep chuckle sent shivers up my spine. Once they left, I waved him into the chair. “Are you sure you want a shave tonight, Daddy? We should head straight to The Tap now, and then maybe go spend some time at your house.”

Roland's gaze met mine in the mirror. “That sounds good, but I thought maybe you could wash my hair first. It's a scorcher out there, and I'm feeling a little too grungy to go out to eat.”

My mouth dropped open. “Are… are you sure?”

He smiled softly. “I'm positive.”

“Um, okay. Come right this way.” He sat in the chair, and I wrapped the apron around his neck. My hands shook so hard that it took me three tries to get it fastened around his neck. He captured my hand in his. “Are you okay, shortcake?”

I didn’t think so. He’d told me how only Rhonda had ever washed his hair and how special that was to him that first day he told me about her. Looking back, that was the day our relationship changed, and I wasn’t sure if this would really be okay with him once we got started. “I am, but this feels like a really big deal.”

He tipped his head in acknowledgment of my words. “It is, but… I want you to.” His baby blues sparkled with affection.

“Okay.” I exhaled every bit of carbon dioxide in my system out and wiped my sweaty hands down my pants. I was so damn nervous. On the one hand, it was a simple hair wash. I’d done a million of them. But this time, it really wasn’t simply anything, it was so much more. Roland letting me into this space that had previously only belonged to Rhonda was huge. Instinctively, I knew that he wanted me to know everything we shared from here on out was special to him. While I appreciated the sentiment, I didn’t want him hurt.

Turning on the taps, I adjusted the water to the right temperature, then leaned him back. “Are you ready?” I asked, hoping he didn't hear the anxiety in my voice. He was probably freaking out enough without me adding my meltdown.

“Yep.” He closed his eyes as his head went under the stream of water. I pumped shampoo into the palm of my hand, worriedthat as soon my hands touched his scalp, it might make him feel uncomfortable.

Without opening his eyes, he said, “Go ahead, shortcake. I'm fine.”

Here goes nothing. Tentatively, I began washing his hair. His expression didn't change as I quickly and efficiently shampooed and rinsed. As I pumped the conditioner into my palm, I gave myself a stern lecture. Back in the day, when I first started and all I did was shampoo and condition, people raved about my hair-washing skills. We had customers who were disappointed and complained when I finally earned my own chair and had my own clients and no longer provided that service for other stylists.

Was I nervous? Yes. But this wasn't about me comparing myself to Rhonda and what she'd done for her husband. I didn’t want to one-up her in any way. But this was about my career, what I did for a living, and I wanted to do the best job possible for my man. Recommitting to my endeavor, I thrust my hand into his hair, pleased that his hair was growing back out, and gave him the best damn scalp massage of my life.

Roland groaned. “Damn, shortcake. I've been missing out.”

Feeling giddy at the compliment, I bit my bottom lip to keep a dopey grin off my face. “Yes, you have,” I said teasingly.

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