“What did your parents callyou?”
Ford’s cheeks turned pink, but he met her gaze in the mirror.“Professor.”
She laughed.“Studious, curious, deep thinker?”
He nodded, and set the scissors on the counter, giving her hair a little fluff to reveal the layers he’d somehow added.“Yep.I’ve always been an uptight asshole.”
Is that how he thought she saw him?“Except when you cut Amber’s hair.”
“Yeah.”One side of his mouth almost crooked.“Except then.”
“Did you and Connor get along?”
He paused and stared at his hands in her hair.“Mostly.We were inseparable, even in college.I tried to keep him out of trouble, and he made sure I left the apartment.We were like two sides of the same coin.Now…it’s like half of me is missing.”
Natalie’s heart broke for him as the thought of Erik at her funeral came to mind.Her once bratty little brother who’d dragged his sand-laden surfboard through the house, left his dirty clothes on their shared bathroom floor, and played his music too loud.Who’d convinced her to buy him a pack of cigarettes and then puked on her favorite shoes after smoking too many.Who’d bought her ice cream after a boy broke up with her, pranked other family members with her, and was sweet as honey to his black lab.
Erik was three years younger and six inches taller and one of her favorite people in the world.She knew without a doubt that he’d be there for her if she needed him, no hesitation.Hopefully, he understood she’d do the same.
Except he thought she was dead.
She swallowed against the vise on her throat.“My brother and I aren’t as close as we were as kids, but I can’t even bear thethoughtof anything happening him.”Sadly, thanks to her job and whoever wanted her dead—and Ford’s quick thinking—her brother understood exactly how it felt.Maybe someday he’d even forgive her for putting him through it.Heart aching for Ford, she reached up and squeezed his forearm.“I’m so sorry that you lost yours.”
He blinked and took a step back, dropping his hands to his sides.“I’m fine.It was six years ago.”He turned away and opened a cloth shopping bag he’d set on the counter when they entered the bathroom.
“How did it happen?”she asked softly, knowing she was pushing her luck, but unable to resist the question.
“Hedied,” Ford snapped.“And it was my fault.”Before she could fully process that revelation, he held up three bottles of brown hair dye, his hard gaze warning her the subject of Connor had closed.“Now, which shade do you want?”
Standing in front of Natalie, a fresh wave of grief washed through Ford at the thought of his brother.He’d been a wreck for months—maybe years—after Con died.Hell, maybe he still was.
They hadn’t just been brothers, they’d been twins, with their own language and the ability to sense the other’s thoughts, to feel when something was wrong, even from afar.The day Connor died, Ford had felt their connection sever like a knife to the chest.Their link was like a phantom limb, gone but still causing him pain.A void he didn’t know how to fill except with guilt.
Why he’d dredged all that up for Natalie now, he had no idea, but it left him with the need to hit something, or maybe run ten miles.He felt antsy and hollow.
But somehow, it had also been nice to talk about Connor.He avoided the subject with Amber and his parents, and there’d been no one else to share his memories with.But Natalie had no stake in Con’s death.She felt…safe.
Everything in him recoiled.She wasnotsafe, in any sense of the word.And she hadn’t earned his story, no matter how much he’d enjoyed running his fingers through her hair, goddammit.
“Ford,” she said softly.“I’m sorry for pushing.”Her pretty blue eyes seemed sincere, and he froze, torn apart by all of the messy emotions colliding in his head.Slowly, she reached up and tapped one of the small boxes being crushed in his grip.“How about this one?”
Right.Focus.Nodding stiffly, he forced his fingers to relax while he stuffed the anger and confusion and gut-deep feelings of loss back into a vault in the deepest recesses of his mind.“Okay.”He returned the losing colors to the shopping bag, and opened the box of Medium Chestnut Brown to review the instructions.
An hour later, Natalie looked like a different person, and he needed a break from being in such close proximity to her, touching her, watching her beautiful face.
The mall was closed on Sundays, so they spent the rest of the day with Henri playing cards, sipping wine on the back patio in the evening, and walking the grounds of the fallow farmland after dinner.Henri’s disposition had improved greatly, which made Ford feel a little better about dropping Natalie on the man’s doorstep.The doctor would never admit it, but he’d probably been very lonely.
And still grieving.Having someone to care for, to talk to, to be with had been good for him.That was her superpower and also her biggest flaw.She made every room brighter with her smiles and teasing and general cheer.But she also pushed and poked, and didn’t always recognize when she’d crossed a line.
Or maybe she didn’t care.She seemed to feed off gettinganykind of reaction.Like a child desperate for her parents’ attention and willing to do whatever it takes to get it, consequences be damned.It made her the most fascinating and most frustrating woman he’d ever met.
Honestly, she reminded him a little of Connor, which… Well, the notion had him lying awake, staring at the ceiling long past his bedtime.
The next morning, he tried to look relaxed as he and Natalie emerged from the hypermarché—like a surprisingly nice discount supermarket—into the corridor of the bright, modern shopping mall in Marseille.
With chin-length brown curls, no makeup, and clear eyeglasses, the woman next to him had become unrecognizable.Still gorgeous, but an understated, less vibrant version of herself, helped greatly by the meek posture she’d magically adopted.She also wore a lightweight shawl around her shoulders that made her sling less obvious, and carried a bag of new clothes in her free hand.
Every time he looked her way, something jolted inside him.Her disguise was so good, it might’ve fooled him if he hadn’t been there for the transition.Which was, of course, the entire point.But hehadbeen there.Intimately involved.Cradling her head as he rinsed the dye from her newly chopped hair, trying to ignore the desire to lean over and trace the shape of her lips with his tongue.
