cast around.
“Am I allowed to know your real name?” he looked hurt as he asked the question like I wasn’t going to tell him.
“I’d love it if you did,” I told him honestly. “It’s Tamsin Elizabeth Waite, age twenty-four, and I was born on December twenty-fifth at ten o’clock in the morning, even though Mom tried to keep her knees together, so I didn’t have Christmas as a birthday.”
A new light came into his eyes as he burst out laughing. Then, holding out a hand, he replied, “Garrett Mendez Evans, age thirty-two, born on January fifth at ten o’clock at night.”
Because he’d automatically held out his right hand, I put my casted hand in it and awkwardly tried to shake it.
“Do you want me to reel off my statistics, too, so you know most of my identifying details? I’d rather not give my weight, but I’m proud of my height.”
“Go for it,” he snickered, gently stroking his thumb along the part of my palm that wasn’t under the cast.
“I’m five feet and seven whole inches tall.”
With his head tipped slightly back, Garrett burst out laughing, getting a round of applause from Clyde’s tail against the side of the couch, who apparently loved it when he did that as much as I did.
When it left him, he lowered it back down again, but the humor was still making his eyes shine. “Hate to say, pretty girl, but you’re still short in comparison to my six foot four inches.”
“Yeah, you and your brother are lucky,” I sighed. “Hey, I have a question. Was it not kind of awkward being tall when you were in the Air Force?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you did things like patrolling on the ground, right?” When he nodded, I continued, “So, did that not make you a target? Other people could hide behind stuff, but with your height, you’d probably pop out over the top of things.”
I was serious, but he started laughing again and pulled me into his side. “You’re a breath of fresh air, Tamsin.” Hearing him say my real name made a long sigh come out of me. I wasn’t used to it, and I’d missed it hugely. “You’re going to be okay, baby. I promise.”
Burying my nose in his side, I hugged him with my bad arm. “I hope so. I kind of like it here.”
Giving me a squeeze, he kissed the top of my head, leaving his face buried in it. I’d read about this in romance books, and the same thing that’d hit me each time hit me again then. I knew my hair was clean, Garrett did it for me every other night, but what if it smelled slightly? I mean, hair does start to smell, and even though I’d washed it last night, what if it’d started to smell funny already? Oh my God, what if he was sniffing stinky hair and trying to be nice?
With that worry at the front of my brain like a siren, I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me go. “Give me this moment, baby. I imagined a lot of shitty things today, and hearing the real one…”
I knew what he meant, but I doubted a dirty hair stench would fix it for him.
“I know,” I patted his stomach with my cast, trying to be as gentle as possible. Then, it just blurted out of me. “If you’re going to put your face near my hair, I probably need to wash it twice a day. Does it smell? Not the shampoo, the roots. Hair smells funny if you don’t wash it every hour, doesn’t it, so I probably have that smell in there. Maybe I should shave my head?”
Even as I suggested it, I mourned my hair. It was naturally black, long, and healthy, and I loved it.
Lifting his head, he glared down at me. “Firstly, if you shave your head, I’ll spank your ass. And to answer your question: no, it doesn’t smell bad, it smells like the shampoo and conditioner I put on it last night. I also get hard when I get in the shower because of the smell of both of those things. It makes me think about waking up in the morning with your head on my chest and the scent of you in my nose. I almost wanked to the smell this morning, but I heard you moving around and knew I’d be loud when I came.”
And with that, he gave me a lip touch, then