Page 14 of Hero Hair

I sigh. “I have a business degree and I hated college. My yoga studio is my life. I’m almost always there. I don’t have pets because I’m still working on houseplants. I’m sort of messy, but particular with certain things like refrigerator organization. I don’t eat salad on dates because I’m worried men might think I actually love it. The color teal is not my favorite color…it’s actually red, or orange. I talk to my mom every day, sometimes a few times a day because I love her. She’s the reason I have any sort of good attributes to my name.”

Macs doesn’t move away as I speak. His breaths are heavy against the side of my neck.

“Go on,” he demands.

I swallow, my neck working. I’m baffled. He doesn’t want to know more. How annoying must it be to pretend to care about the inner workings of another person. Especially one you just met. “If I humor you, you need to back off a bit. You’re coming on stronger than a Cat 5 hurricane.”

He growls. An actual audible noise of frustration and lust. “Every word you say makes me even harder. I’m not backing off. Quite the opposite. I will listen to everything you have to say until there is nothing left to say. That’s when actions come in to play, and, Teala?” he asks.

I nod, a quick gesture to signal him to go on.

“That’s when I’m going to show you what you’re doing to me. Up close and personal.”

Dirty talk that isn’t confined to bedroom walls is always the hottest. I can make eye contact with a stranger while Macs promises me nasty things. Do I know that it’s not normal to desire him so quickly? Yes and no. Any hot-blooded woman would desire him. Most would never act on their desires. Would a normal woman be offended or put off by his forward suggestions? I’m not sure I can answer that affirmatively either. I want him and I’m blinded by it.

I realize Macs is complicated. I’m probably even more so. This is a player meeting a most worthy opponent. There cannot be any winners tonight. The longing multiples with each and every breath I take in his proximity and you can taste the want in the air between us. Looking him square in his dreamy eyes, I go on. “Most days I don’t take off my workout clothing. I enjoy reading when I have spare time. Or baking. Chai tea is one of my favorite drinks.”

“I could get you out of your Lululemon any day of the week.” His statement momentarily breaks my focus. “Naked is more comfortable than any clothes can be.”

I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. A quick appraisal of his clothing tells me he’s also well dressed. He’s so attractive that trivial things like his clothing take a back seat. I wonder, briefly, what he would look like wearing tattered clothing suited for under a bridge of a highway. As I study his high cheekbones and chiseled jaw, I conclude it wouldn’t matter. Not one bit. I would fuck a homeless man who looked like Macs.

I smile to cover the uneasiness my realization has brought. “You like workout clothing? Are you a spandex/lycra blend connoisseur?”

“Tight ones that hug perfect curves? You could say I’m down with them. I spend a lot of time at gyms.” He raises his brow as if to insinuate the fact should be obvious. “I’m skilled in the art of gym clothing.”

I push my plate away and down the rest of my drink. Looking at the ceiling and the bottom of my almost empty glass, I try to ignore my cell phone vibrating on the bench next to me. “Well, that’s one fact I can add to the list of things I know about you. Something we have in common as well.”

Backing away from me a bit, he tilts his head back a touch and looks at me down his straight nose. “I have a quote for you, Teala. It will tell you more about me than any basic conversation.”

I swallow. “Getting a little hipster-emo on me? Can’t say I expected that.”

His tongue darts out and wets his bottom lip. My heart rate responds immediately. What would kissing him feel like? What would his lips on my skin do to me? Would I even survive his brand of passion mixed with attractiveness? I’d survive just fine, I realize. I’d want more. A taste—a night—would never be enough.

“I can’t say I expected to tell you anything about myself,” Macs replies. “I expected we’d be fucking right now.”

I don’t respond with words, just a face that probably looks pretty similar to my orgasm face.

Tipping his head back, he drains his beer. I think he might have an alcohol problem, too. From the little exposure I’ve had to Navy SEALs I’d be willing to bet that most of them can either drink like fishes and still remain highly functioning, or they’re all raging closet alcoholics. “I don’t plan to see you again. I can be emo if I want.” His posture changes and he scoots away from me even farther. The spell has broken and this frog prince doesn’t need kissing. He needs an escape route.

His honesty catches me off guard and I can’t help the sting of disappointment even if I expected it. “Of course,” I say, nodding. “Quote your life. I’m intrigued. For mere entertainment purposes at the very least. We might as well finish our dinner and make the most of it.” I’m embarrassed as I think of the mundane, stupid facts I told him about myself. He doesn’t care about them, or me.

“Tay-la,” he says, pronouncing it in two syllables.

I glance at his face.

His lips press into a firm line. “No one ever got to the top of their ivory tower, gazed out the window, and said, ‘That was easy.’ Open the door to the back stairwell. It’s teeming with blood, sweat, tears, and piles of steaming bones.”

My mouth pops open a touch and his gaze darts down. He catches himself and brings his eyes to meet mine. “I get it. That is basically the soundtrack to my life.”

“Then don’t look so disappointed.”

I glare at him. “I’m not disappointed.”

He raises one brow. “No?”

My phone vibrates again, reminding me of whyI amdisappointed. I grab my iPhone with the intent to silence it completely and I see at least a dozen texts from my friends. Most of the texts look to be inspirational quotes they’ve mutated to resemble “don’t have sex” instead. The most recent is from Jasmine. It reads:Hang in there, baby. Don’t make one.

Rolling my eyes, I toss my phone into my bag. “Fine. I’m disappointed I’ll have to face my friends tomorrow empty-handed so to speak. Not that I’m not bringing you home. I mean, I guess there will be a little bit of remorse because you’re so good-looking and I’m sure you’d be a good lay, but it’s mostly that I’ll have to start over. How the hell am I supposed to find a guy who doesn’t want sex?”

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