“I think ‘shit’ is worse,” Blakely said, and the table erupted in laughter.
But my eyes never left the gorgeous man standing in front of me.
Yes, I had a good buzz going from the bottles of champagne we’d consumed over the last few hours.
Yes, I was still floating on air from the orgasms I’d received last night.
But none of that had anything to do with the reason that I was salivating as I took him in.
It was the glitter and the hair and the fact that he’d let his daughter give him a makeover simply because it made her happy.
Charlie Huxley is a good man.
A really good man.
I didn’t know many, and he was showing me that they still existed.
“I think you look great,” I said as Blakely and Montana looked at me and chuckled.
“Oh, she’s got it bad,” Montana said as she slid out of the booth and wrapped her arms around Myles.
“What do you got bad, Vi?” Harper asked.
“Nothing. Ignore them. I’m happy to see you guys, that’s all.”
“Well, dude,” Myles said, “I’m not going to lie to you. I love that you’re a good dad, but this whole look is a bit alarming. No offense, Harps. You’re cute as hell. Oh wait. I can’t say that. You’re the cutest kid I know. But your dad looks a little strange with that hair and all the glitter.”
“I’ll give you a makeover next, Mr. Myles,” Harper said through her giggles.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Charlie said with a look at his friend.
“I get it. She’s impossible to turn down.” Myles winked at Harper as we slid out of the booth together.
“Tell me about it.” Charlie took Harper’s hand, and then he did the most unexpected thing of all.
He reached for my hand too.
He interlocked our fingers, and I looked up to see my friends watching and smiling.
Normally this type of public affection would freak me out.
Maybe it was the buzz still coursing through my veins.
Or maybe it was just the man who was holding my hand.
But I liked it.
I liked it a lot.
We all said our goodbyes, and Charlie opened the passenger-side door for me before he helped Harper into the back seat and got her buckled.
As we drove home, Harper told me all about doing her father’s makeup.
“He yelped out when I put the ponytail in his hair, Vi. He was being a big baby,” she said over her laughter.
“Hey, you pulled my hair really hard,” he huffed as he glanced over his shoulder at me and smirked.
“Maybe you have a sensitive scalp.” I reached over and tugged on one of his pigtails.
