She turns the chair to face the mirror. "What do you think?"
I'm speechless. I mean, I’m a man of few words in any case, but the Bear I see in the mirror is a whole different person than the one who walked in.
Before, my hair was a wild explosion, riotous, frizzy, and dry, and my beard was just as bad, bursting down from my jawline in a ragged, unkempt, unruly mop.
I look like a Viking warrior from a TV show that used to play in the afternoons in the dayroom. The braided beard looks cool as fuck, and my hair is clean and silky smooth and shiny, pulled back to expose the angles of my face, letting my eyes show, whereas before, they were often hidden or obscured by my hair.
"Holy shit," I mutter. "Who the fuck isthat?"
Noelle laughs, resting her hands on my shoulders. "You, silly. I think Thomas would say you're hot as balls."
I meet her eyes in the mirror. "What would you say?"
She swallows hard, gnawing on her lower lip, eyes searching mine in the mirror. "I think you're the sexiest man I've evermet." She runs my hair through her hands. “A good cut and proper styling just reveals how hot you really are."
My heart crashes in my chest at her words. "Noelle, I…" I shake my head, unable to find words. "I don't how to thank you."
Moving slowly, she circles to stand in front of me and then lowers herself to sit on my lap, legs hanging sideways over mine, arms circling my neck. "You just did."
I shake my head. "I feel like a new man. Never looked this good before. Thank you."
One arm across the back of my neck, she runs my beard braid through her fist. "My big, handsome Viking warrior."
Herbig, handsome Viking warrior? My heart flips, and my stomach twists, and hope is no longer a germinating seed but a tender shoot soaking up the sunlight of her attention, her touch, her affection.
"I'll never be able to make it look this way on my own, though," I say.
She grins. "Good. That way you'll have to keep me around."
"Your time and your skills are valuable, Noelle. How much do I—"
Her hand covers my mouth. "Absolutely the heck not. Don't even think about paying me. I'd be insulted."
"Don't want to insult you, I just don't wanna take advantage of your generosity."
Her smile is soft and warm and tender. "So sweet and so thoughtful." She cups the side of my face with her palm. "You'll just have to keep spending time with me. Okay?"
Hesitantly, I bring my arms away from the armrests and circle her with them. Inexplicably, this makes her smile burn hotter, and her eyes flick to my lips. "Favorite thing in the world," I murmur, "Spending time with you. So damn lucky to know you."
"I feel the same way," she says.
And then she leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder, one arm around my neck, the other circling to clasp hands on my other shoulder. I hold absolutely still, barely even breathing. My arms circle her soft, warm body, one hand around her middle, the other draping to rest just above her hip. Instinctively, my hand runs across her thigh and back to her hip.
She hums happily, nuzzling closer. "I love the way you hold me, Bear."
My breath is lodged in my throat—I expect to wake up any second and find myself back on the hard bunk of my cell in Holbrook.
"Doesn't seem real, "I whisper.
"What doesn’t?” She asks, pulling away to look into my eyes from mere inches away.
“You. This. Getting to…to hold you. To touch you. Feels like it shouldn't be allowed."
For some reason, this makes her eyes water. "Gosh, Bear," she whispers. "You can't say things like that to me. You're killing me."
"Sorry."
This makes her laugh. "I didn't mean literally," she says, bumping her forehead onto my shoulder, laughing. "Geez, you're very literal."
