Page 67 of Against The Rules

“Mmmm… I don’t think I’ve had enough tequila to think that’s a good idea. No, I’ll make an appointment with my stylist.” I wince because I really don’t want to drop two hundred bucks on my hair.

“Oh, is that right? Who’s your stylist? You think they’re better than me?”

“Do I think a trained hair stylist is better than a professional football player? Yes. Absolutely," I drag the word out, then close one eye as I realize I might be slightly more tipsy than I thought, tacos and all. “I get my hair done at this little place up the street. Debbie’s done my hair since college. Well, off and on when I could afford it.”

“Do you tell her all your darkest secrets?” He waggles his eyebrows.

I ugly laugh, glad I wasn’t drinking my margarita when he asked. “No. She’s nice to talk to, but I’m not the type to tell all my business to people I don’t know well.”

A slow grin stretches the corners of his mouth. I hold in a sigh when his dimples appear. He’s so freaking handsome.

“Is that right?”

“Yep.”

“I guess that makes me special then.”

I lower my chin and fix him with my no-nonsense stare, only slightly ruined by the fact I’m laughing. “Yeah, I guess you could say you’re a little special.”

He sighs in mock frustration. “A little? You married me.”

“So I did… and now I’m going to do your skincare routine.”

His Adam’s apple bobs. “Why does that sound like a threat?”

I do my best impression of an evil laugh, and Ty snorts. “Because it was.”

“Oh man,” he says. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“You’re going to love it,” I say, picking up my glass and slowly standing. His eyes dip momentarily to my cleavage, and I’m not mad about it.

Warmth suffuses me, and I walk around the table, suddenly all too aware of his gaze on me, of the weight of it.

Liking it… no, loving it.

“Let me tell you about the spa services scheduled for this evening, sir.” I flutter my eyelashes at him and he tips his chin back, a huge laugh booming out of him.

“Oh, are our services funny to you?”

“Not at all.” He shakes his head, a mock-serious expression on his face. “I just… I’ve never been to a spa that didn’t offer a happy ending.”

I bite my cheeks because for some stupid reason, that strikes me as completely hilarious.

“How dare you question the integrity of this institution,” I say, drawing myself up to my tallest height of five foot six. On a good day. “We would never.”

“I’m open to trying new things, I guess,” he says, grinning at me.

He’s breathtaking.

I can’t even think of a response.

I shake myself mentally. “Good. I have lots of new things for you to try, including a pink holographic polish.”

“You’re going to paint my nails.” He gapes at me.

“Follow me, sir,” I trill, sashaying out of the kitchen and into my bedroom. I brought all the self-care goodies in here after Presley left but before my mental breakdown and call to Tyler, and I pick up the bag and dump them all onto the bed.

“That’s… that’s a lot of stuff. Do you put all that stuff on your face all the time?”

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