“You’re worried about what people think?” I didn’t mean to sound so unbelieving, but that seemed so out of character for her.
“No, I’m conscious of the image I’m projecting.”
Not understanding the difference, I nodded like she made perfect sense. “Okay, I’m here to help.” Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I forwarded her a contact card. “Just sent you the info for my prosthetist. He’s a fuckin’ wizard, I swear. He can hook you up with something functional that looks fly as hell. Something fit for a queen, even. Now… about that hair. What can I do?”
“You?” She snorted. “You’re sweet and all, but I’m sure this is well out of your wheelhouse.”
“I thought feminism was all about equality. Seems a little one-sided for a female badass fighter pilot to think a man can’t possibly fix her hair.”
Her gaze dropped. “You forget, I’m not a fighter pilot anymore.”
“Bullshit. What you do or don’t do has nothing to do with who you are. You earned your wings, and you’d still be flying if life hadn’t kicked you in the hand. That’s one hell of an accomplishment and nobody can take it away from you. Now, you gonna let me have a go at your hair or what?”
“I don’t even know what to make of you.” She chuckled. “You have no idea what you’re asking, white boy. Touching a black girl’s hair is a good way to end up decapitated.”
“I distinctly remember working your ass over and proving that I’m not a boy. I’m the fuckin’ man.” I sounded like a cocky douchebag, but something about Monica brought out this side of me. I wanted to rise to whatever level she needed me at, and right now, she needed a challenge.
Her eyes darkened as her gaze dropped to my lap before bouncing back up to my face. “Maybe I need a refresher course.”
And she apparently liked me like this. Unable to believe my good fortune, I leaned closer. “Anytime you feel froggy, jump.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You’re not touching my hair.”
Apparently, we were back on this problem. I’d liked the direction our sparring was headed, but reluctantly pivoted with her. “Why? What are you afraid of? That I’ll make it worse? Or that I’ll fix it?”
“Okay, smartass, I’ll play, but we do this shit by my rules. If you can braid my hair and make me look presentable, I’ll call your goddamn prosthetist and make an appointment. But if you fuck up my hair, they will never find your body. Capisce?” The look in her eyes made it clear she didn’t expect me to rise to the challenge, but I was used to being underestimated.
“You’re goin’ mob boss on me, huh? Fair enough.” I thumbed on my phone and opened a browser. “Deal. There are different kinds of braids, right? Do you have something specific in mind that I can search?”
“You’re really gonna do this?”
“Yeah. Of course. I told you, whatever you need, I got you.”
She stared at me.
I stared right back.
“You’re something else, Stocks.”
Deciding to take that as a compliment, I threw her words back at her. “I don’t know that flattery will work here, but you’re welcome to keep trying.”
She cracked a real smile.
It was all the encouragement I needed. I’d crawl to hell and back for that smile, learning how to braid hair was nothing. Offering her my phone, I said, “Show me what you want.”
Shaking her head like she still couldn’t believe I’d go through with it, she typed something into the browser and scooted closer until our shoulders and thighs were touching. Scanning through a few videos, she finally stopped on one and handed it over.
“Think you can do that?”
Maybe if I had ten extra fingers. I was so fucked. “Piece of cake.”
She laughed. “Right.”
Arming me with multiple bottles of product and several tools, she sat on the floor and patted the bed. I scooted in behind her. Once I was in position, she leaned back, so I was straddling her shoulders.
Running my fingers through her lustrous, thick locks was one of the most erotic acts I’d ever committed. I never expected something as simple as brushing a woman’s hair to be sexy, but with Monica, it was. I could run my fingers through her hair all day, even though that made me sound like some sort of creepy loser.
“Tell me something about yourself,” I said, using the comb to create a part, just like the video showed.
