I bit down on my lip to stifle a laugh. “Of course. Dip your head forward for me.” My voice coming out more husky than intended.
My mind flashed to last night, imagining me riding him, restraining him, commanding him. I was grateful he was facing away from me, so he couldn’t see my cheeks heating. As he tipped his chin to his chest, I moved my hands through his thick hair, finger combing it before I dyed it. But I couldn’t help reveling in its lush softness. I instinctively spread my fingers out underneath his mess of curls, rubbing and stroking his scalp. It’s like my hands had suddenly gone rogue—I wasn’t even aware of what I was doing until Jace let out a breath, just this side of a groan. He tipped his head back, his hazel eyes bright and luminous, staring at me.
I wanted to grab his face and kiss him. Upside down. Then right-side up. Backwards, forwards, it didn’t matter. It was like Dr. Seuss’Green Eggs and Ham: I wanted his mouth in a chair, I wanted his mouth here and there, I wanted his moutheverywhere.
Swallowing tightly, I jerked my hands out of his hair.
“So, how was your day today?” I chirped, shifting to put on a new pair of gloves, then picked up the brush and plastic bowl, giving the red dye a stir. I was not going to read into his rough swallow or how reluctantly he moved his head forward again, like it took effort to dip his chin to his chest.
“I sparred with Sam after work and stopped at my parents’ place to mow their lawn. I didn’t want them to come back to an overgrown yard when they get home from Florida next week.”
“That’s nice of you.” I started to paint the remaining sections of Jace’s hair. “Is that something you’ve always done for them, or is it because they’re out of town?”
Jace hesitated and scratched his forehead with the back of his thumb. “I actually live with them. My pop has rheumatoid arthritis. He’s got it mostly under control with medicine now, but it still flares once and awhile, especially if he overdoes it. I’ve slowly taken over the outside house maintenance these past few years and help out my mom when he has a flare. I wasn’t living with them because I’m some freeloader, despite what my brother, Kent, may imply. I actually have a fair amount of savings compared to others my age.”
Jace shifted in his chair, uncharacteristic tension radiating from him. The muscles in his shoulders and neck went rigid, like he was bracing himself for judgment.
I could imagine what people might think of Jace, not knowing anything about him, this blithe, twenty-something, guy, no career, living with his parents. But from what I’ve seen this week, Jace couldn’t be further from that stereotype. Carefree without immaturity, he seemed older than his years in a hundred ways, approaching life with a whimsical optimism that I’d come to admire.
I was very suddenly, very angry at his brother. I had to gentle my touch to stop from aggressively layering the dye on Jace’s hair.
“Can I just say, I have no interest in meeting your brother, ever. From the little you’ve told me, he sounds like an asshat.”
Jace barked out a laugh as he brought his fingers up to his face again, scratching at his temple. “My sister will be thrilled to hear you think that. But my momma still has a soft spot for him. It’s got to be a firstborn child thing.” Jace’s tone flattened. “It can’t be his winning personality, that’s for sure. Still, my parents put an offer in on a condo in Florida recently, so they’re gonna be living close by him from now on, for better or for worse.”
I vaguely recalled Jace mentioning that he’d needed a place to stay on the day of Ryla’s party, but so much was said that day, I didn’t recall it until now. Had that really only been a week ago? “Is that why you needed a place to stay? Because they’re moving?”
“Partly. Sam’s been trying to get me to live with him for a while now, so I’ll probably move in with him come fall.”
I nodded absently, the thought of Jace leaving felt like adopting a puppy and bringing it home, only to find out it belonged to another family.
“All done,” I announced as I shucked off my gloves. “You need to leave that in for another twenty minutes. Then your transformation to Kent the Clown will be complete.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
JACE
Because I’m holding on to my last shred of humanity, and if you stand here in those goddamn shorts for another ten seconds, it’s going to snap.
Catherine Cowles,Fragile Sanctuary
“Knock, knock.”
I glanced in the direction of my door at Polly’s voice, not that I could really see her.
I’d been laying on my bed with my eyes closed for the last ten minutes because they burned too badly to keep them open. The skin on my forehead was prickling and itchy. I thought I’d washed all the dye out of my hair, but my eyes were tearing so badly, it was hard to tell.
“I wanted to check on—Oh no.” I heard her footsteps approach the bed.
“It’s fine,” I said, eyes still shut. “Just a little reaction to the dye. I only need to rest my eyes a minute and then I’m sure it’ll pass.”
I felt the bed dip, followed by the sensation of Polly’s fingers ghosting over my face. “Jace, your eyelids are swollen and there’s a rash along your hairline. Do your eyes hurt?” Her voice was filled with alarm.
I forced them open, wincing at the sting. “It burns a bit,” I admitted.
“OK. Stay here and keep your eyes closed. Do you have any allergies? Or do you take any medications?”
“No to both.” I closed my eyes and sighed, feeling instant relief.
