Page 75 of An Overdue Match
Her breath feathered across his lips. It took all his self-control to sit still. To not pull her flush against him and claim her parted lips like the rogue she’d claimed him to be.
Her eyes lifted to his. He swallowed.
“I wonder,” she murmured. Her gaze lowered again to his tattoo, but this time, her mouth followed. Her warm breath fanned across his skin a moment before her lips settled in a kiss over the strumming of his pulse.
She pulled back slightly, only long enough to whisper a surprised “Oh” before her mouth was on him again, another hot press of her lips on the flower’s center.
Tai groaned, his arms snaking out to band around her back. Her knee bumped the side of his and pitched him backward. He rotated her in his arms so Evangeline landed on his lap.
She giggled and looked at him with wide, fake-innocent eyes. “Hi.”
He smirked at her. “Hello, Minx.”
She giggled again. “I take it you like Roxanne.” She said it as a statement, but he still heard a hint of a question there.
He leaned over and nuzzled her nose. “I do. I like Roxanne and Natasha and Astrid.”
She clasped her hands behind his neck. “Which did you like the most?”
He leaned even farther forward and caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth, tugging gently. He let go and whispered, “I like them all, because they are all you.”
Pulling back, he looked at her. Slowly, he lifted his hand and removed her wig. He brushed his fingers over the shell of her ear as if tucking away errant strands of hair. “EvangelineVictoriaKelly”—he winked, caressing the curve of her jaw with his thumb—“will always be my favorite.”
33
“Did I miss the memo about a library employee salon trip or something?” Martha asks as she approaches the front desk. She dabs at her temple with the back of her hand, a feminine sparkle about her (because women don’t sweat, according to Granny; they either glow or sparkle). A newly erected six-foot cardboard cutout of the Cat in the Hat now stands near the entrance of the children’s wing, Martha showing every sign of her stubbornness and fight to put it up by herself.
Hayley shoots me a look out of the corner of her eye. I can read her expression like an open book. She’s not sure what to say because she doesn’t want to betray my confidence, but with her dramatically shorter hair and the fact that I’m wearing a wig that’s a slightly different shade and style than my usual one—well, there’s obviously some explanation needed here.
Martha pats her own curls that rebel with the humidity, creating a wild riot of a halo around her head. She laughs a bit sadly, and I realize she probably feels left out.
“I doubt even a salon could tame this bird’s nest. But you, Hayley, that bob frames your face beautifully and really highlights your cheekbones.” She turns to me. “And, Evangeline,the new layers really give your hair volume and the lighter shade of chestnut is perfect for summer.”
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she pivots and retreats to her corner of the library.
Honestly, I don’t know Martha well. Hayley kind of kidnapped me as a friend as soon as I arrived in town while Martha has kept more to herself and the shelves of the children’s books that line the west corner of the library. All that I really know about her is that she’s a hard worker, dedicated, knows everything there is to know about children’s literature, and often jots things down in a Moleskine notebook that she keeps on her at all times. She’s quiet, except during story time when she gives each character of the book she’s reading aloud their own voice, almost acting like a one-woman theater production for her captive audience of little ones.
It’s time, I think to myself. I’m not ready to march down Main Street with my head bare, but I am ready to take a step forward out of the shadows.
“Martha, wait.”
She stops beside the giant Dr. Seuss icon and turns on her heel. “Yes?”
I walk over to her, Hayley right behind me. The oversized cat in the red-and-white striped hat has mischief written on his face. I’m almost expecting him to let a Thing One and Thing Two out of a box, indoor kite-flying with disastrous results immediately to ensue.
I look at Martha. “First off, your hair is beautiful. I would give anything to have hair like yours.”
“This frizz?” She smooths her hand over her curls, but they pop back up a second later. “Trust me, you wouldn’t.”
“Trustme, yes, I would.” I take a deep breath. The library is relatively deserted right now, but anyone could walk through the front doors at any moment.
It’s time, I say to myself again.
“Hayley did go to the salon, but I didn’t. I haven’t gone to a hairdresser in ... well...” I lift my hand and pull the wig off my head. “Not since I lost my hair.”
Martha’s eyes track over the dome of my head without a flick of outward reaction. “Just like Sparkle Moore.”
Out of all the things I expected her to say, that wasn’t even on the radar. Especially since I have no idea who Sparkle Moore is. I put my wig back on, hoping it’s straight since I don’t have a mirror to check. “Excuse me?”
