Rocked (The Everyday Heroes World) - Julia Wolf Page 0,59
must’ve read my mind because she shoved it at me. “Just try it on. I promise, you’ll look amazing.”
Searching through the crowded racks of an adorable little boutique off Main Street, I found a much longer, flowy forest green dress. “How about this one?”
She batted it out of my hand like I was a toddler reaching for the rat poison. “No. You’re going to an LA movie premiere, not a Sunnyville church service. If you’re not going to showcase the goods—”
Bending down, I grabbed the dress and replaced it on the rack.
“I won’t be showcasing any goods. All goods will be locked up, only available for special clientele.”
Rhea sputtered. “You just made yourself sound like a high-class hooker.”
I shrugged, continuing my search. “At least I’m high-class.”
Rhea gripped my shoulders and turned me to face her, her eyes fierce. “I know you’re nervous since you’re about to enter an entirely foreign situation with a man you only know in this specific environment. But I think if you rock up there in a church dress, you’re going to feel more self-conscious than if you go for something that screams LA, you know?”
I nodded, running my fingers along the stretchy fabric. “How do you always know what I’m thinking even when I have no clue?”
She poked her forehead, then mine. “I know how I’d feel, so I’m guessing you’d feel the same.”
“I told him I wouldn’t walk the red carpet with him. Not that he asked. It was a preemptive strike.”
Rhea poked my forehead again. “I get that too. Why have pictures taken when this thing with him is temporary?”
“And open myself up to questions and criticism. No thank you. I don’t want to be bombarded with Devon’s fans asking what the hell he’s doing with a mangled hag like me.” Her mouth opened to refute my assessment of myself, but I held my hand up. “For the record, I don’t think I’m a hag at all. I’m just imagining what the internet trolls would say.”
“Right. People who ignore the hair growing from their own knuckles to criticize women’s appearances. We all know their opinions mean a whole lot.”
“Their opinions don’t mean anything, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt any less.”
I knew this from experience. In the year following my accident, when my scars were fresh and angry, many people felt it was imperative for me to know how sad they were about my ruined face. I’d healed, had my scars revised by a plastic surgeon, and healed again, but they would never go away. My skin had grown thicker and the remarks had become fewer, but it still happened on occasion, and damn if it didn’t sting.
In the end, I decided Rhea was right and bought the purple dress. She was triumphant, and I...well, I wasn’t mad. I’d looked hot in it, at least in the dressing room. I hoped I wouldn’t be tugging on it all night, since there was barely room to breathe.
Done shopping, I dragged Rhea back to my place so we could grab Ellie off the bus and hang out. Veego swung by too, having a couple hours before he had to go to work. Things were still weird between us, but he was here to hang out with his daughter, so I didn’t dwell. Everyone was in the backyard playing an unsuccessful game of fetch with Leroy. I went back inside to grab a bottle of water when there was a tap on my front door.
Devon did his signature lean in the doorway, his signature smirk curving his lips.
“Lady,” he growled, peering over my shoulder to see if the coast was clear, “come here.”
This time, he tugged me outside. The second the door closed behind me, his mouth covered mine in a slow, thorough kiss, melting me. I fell against him, looping my arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss.
His head tipped back, his eyes sliding down my face. When he caught my smile, his eyes crinkled with amusement.
“Twenty-four hours is a long time for you to be gone.” He pressed his lips to mine again. “Fucking jobs. Fucking work. Fucking heroine taking care of everyone.” He kissed me again and again, each light and airy.
I caught his bottom lip between my teeth, nibbling gently before letting go. “You could have brought me food at work again.”
He raked his fingers through the sides of my hair, holding me there. “Can I? I got the impression that’s not a thing that’s done too often.”