More importantly, Callahan had never seen it silk-pressed before.
The thought alone made my smile widen. He had been working late most of the week, buried in meetings and business calls, so I knew he wouldn’t expect me home early. The surprise would be even better that way.
By the time I left the salon, the sky had begun shifting toward evening. Warm gold sunlight softened everything. In the air lingered that calm, quiet feeling that came just before night settled in.
The entire drive home, I imagined Callahan’s reaction. He’d probably pause. Look at me twice. Then stare like he always did when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. That thought alone made me laugh softly.
When I pulled into the driveway, everything looked quiet. The house lights were on, but that wasn’t unusual. Maria sometimes left them on before leaving for the day. I slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind me.
I slipped off my shoes and walked farther inside, my hair swaying lightly against my back with each step. Then I heard the television and slowed.
So much for him working late.
A small smile tugged at my lips as I moved toward the living room.
Leaning back comfortably on the couch, he sat with a glass of water in one hand. His tie had been loosened, and his sleeves rolled slightly, giving him a relaxed look that he rarely allowed himself outside of home.
The glow from the television flickered across his face. He hadn’t noticed me yet, so I took another step forward. The floor creaked slightly beneath my foot, causing his head to turn immediately.
He gaped at me, clearly not expecting to see me standing there. He stood up quickly. Unfortunately, he was still holding the glass in his hand. The movement caused the water inside to slosh forward. I saw the droplets arc through the air a split second before they landed.
Right on my hair.
The silence that followed was almost impressive. His gaze moved slowly from my face to my hair and then back again; the horror on his face grew so quickly that it would have been funny if I hadn’t just spent hours getting my hair done.
I sighed and said, “The first rule when dating a black woman is to never touch her hair without permission, and the second is to never get her hair wet.”
His expression shifted instantly from shock to panic.
“Oh no,” he mumbled. “I’m so sorry.”
He looked like someone had just informed him he accidentally destroyed a priceless artifact. Calmly, I walked past him, grabbed the towel draped over the back of the couch, and wrapped it around my hair.
“It’s fine.”
He looked even more confused. “It is?”
I secured the towel and glanced back at him. “I still have your card. I think I’ve earned a shopping spree in Barnes and Noble, you know, to handle the emotional distress,” I teased.
Relief flooded his face so quickly it was almost dramatic.
“Whatever you want, Firefly. As long as you aren’t mad at me.”
The nickname made a small smile creep across my face before I could stop it.
I walked over to the couch and sat down, reaching for the remote.
Callahan remained standing for a moment, still watching me carefully like he expected me to suddenly explode. When I looked up at him, he immediately looked guilty again.
I arched a brow. “You’re still apologizing in your head, aren’t you?”
“You were trying to surprise me.”
I paused. “Maybe.”
“And the first thing I did was ruin it.”
“You’re really committed to that word.”
