“Let me.”
“I can do it.”
His breath is hot on my neck. “Allow me, love.”
Hopping up on the counter, I watch as his deep-green eyes scan over my face. There’s a question written there, but his soft hands swipe over my cheek. My eyes close as his touch tenderly moves over my face.
“Why do you wear all this?”
His question hits me square in the chest. I’m thankful my eyes are closed because I’ve never talked about it with anyone.
“I just like to wear makeup. No real reason.”
“See, you saying no real reason tells me there’s a reason.”
I peek one eye open at him. “Is this what makes you so good at your job?”
The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smile. “Yes. Now, tell me the truth.”
“And if I don’t?”
Simon crosses his arms, his damp T-shirt clinging to his biceps. His eyes are locked on mine in a game of chicken. I break first.
“I started doing it after my divorce.”
Simon runs the cloth under the warm water and goes back to wiping off the running makeup. He doesn’t say anything. My eyes close, not wanting to look at him as I rip off old Band-Aids on wounds that have long since healed.
“I lost a part of myself. We were married for about four years when he decided he wanted to run for mayor. Every event we went to, I had to be perfect. Tan suit, sensible shoes. Even the length of my hair was a point of contention. I couldn’t put a toe out of line if he wanted to be elected. By the time I realized how much I’d changed, I barely recognized myself. I hated how much I’d changed. At that point, Brad and I were strangers. We were going through the motions. I felt like the town pariah because I left Brad. I didn’t want to be stuck in a loveless marriage. So I left. This town is so full of gossips, that I didn’t want to give anyone a reason to talk about me. So I started watching makeup tutorials.”
“Like your armor against the world.”
Opening my eyes, Simon is close.
“Exactly. It made me feel beautiful. Daring and dramatic looks. If anyone was going to be talking about me, they couldn’t comment on how I looked.” My voice shakes as I say the words. “Yet, it seems like no matter what I do, I’m not good enough for this town.”
I never wanted to be the topic of discussion after my divorce, even though I knew it would be. News like that runs rampant in small towns. Dixon is no exception.
“Layla.”
“Don’t tell me I’m being ridiculous.”
“You don’t need all of this.”
“You don’t have to say that.” I push him away, but he doesn’t budge.
Damn Simon and all his muscles.
“I’m serious.” Simon drops his hands to the counter on either side of my hips. His eyes are piercing straight through me. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You don’t need all this.”
Simon presses his lips to my forehead. To my nose. To each temple. Each cheek. A rush of emotions washes over me at his tender touch.
“Fucking gorgeous, Layla. With or without all this, you are the most beautiful, most generous person I have ever met. You are passionate. And driven. And so fucking strong. I don’t know how you deal with being in this town when they treat you like this. You have the biggest heart and they should be lucky to have you. I know I’m lucky to be on your arm. Luckiest fucking bastard in the world.”
My breath catches in my throat as I fist my hands in his shirt, keeping him close. The rapid beat of my heat is threatening to burst out of my chest.
Never once did Brad say anything like this to me when we were married. Sure, he occasionally told me that I looked nice. But never this.
Never a declaration of how beautiful I am. I’ve known this man for all of three weeks and he’s unlocked a piece of me that I didn’t know was still there.
