Page 81 of The Right Kind of Wrong

She cleared her throat and ran her hand along Maisie’s cheek. “Sorry, Mais. I spaced out there for a second.”

“Can we?” Maisie asked, and Monroe couldn’t for the life of her remember what her niece was referring to.

The only thoughts floating through her mind were of Blake, with her tousled, brunette hair and dark eyes and a surprisingly mischievous smile when she was pleased about something. And the way that all of her shirts seemed to accentuate her toned body perfectly, like she could be wearing a potato sack and still look gorgeous.

Blake.

She snapped back to the present, to Maisie’s request. Monroe wasn’t being needy, she reasoned, even if a little thrill shot through her and settled low in her stomach at the thought of seeing Blake sooner than she’d been expecting. She also reasoned that acknowledging the feeling—enjoying it, even—didn’t make her an irresponsible person. “Let me ask, but no promises.”

Monroe pulled her phone out of her pocket and typed out the message.

Monroe Lockhart - 4:55 p.m.

I know it’s a long shot, but there has been a request for fishtail braids if you happen to be available.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Blake Bettencourt - 4:55 p.m.

Trying a new look?

And that was a casual, jokey thing that a friend would say. So why, then, did the idea of Blake running her fingers against Monroe’s scalp, pulling her hair, elicit all kinds of non-friendly feelings?

She shook her head, willing the thoughts away.

If Blake could be normal, then so could she, dammit.

Monroe Lockhart - 4:55 p.m.

Maisie is apparently a fan and they are outside of my area of expertise

Blake Bettencourt - 4:55 p.m.

But not you???

Monroe bit her lip. What in the actual hell?

She couldn’t tell anymore whether Blake was flirting with her or just teasing her. Granted, she didn’t really know whether she’d ever known the difference between the two, given the kiss that had transpired between them.

And she shouldn’t push things.

Even if she enjoyed—maybe a little too much—how it made her feel.

She was deciding how to respond when there was a knock at the front door. It was Maisie who jumped up from the sofa first and threw open the door.

“Miss Blake!” she yelled gleefully. “Did you come to braid my hair?”

Blake stepped into the living room. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder top that flowed with her movements, and a pair of shorts that weren’t short by any means but still provided an enticing view of her legs.

Which Monroe was decidedly making a point not to stare at as Blake stepped farther into the room.

Blake glanced at Monroe and smiled innocently before turning her attention to Maisie, leaning forward so that they were closer to eye level. “I sure did. I heard that you wanted fishtail braids. Is that right?”

Maisie nodded like a bobblehead, bursting with excitement. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Those happen to be one of my specialties,” Blake said seriously, eyeing Maisie’s head. “Do you want one or two?”

“Two, Miss Blake.” Maisie held up her fingers, just like she’d done with Monroe a few minutes ago. “I asked Aunt Monroe, but she doesn’t know how to do ‘em.”