Page 70 of Worst in Show

He reaches out as if it’s an everyday thing and runs his fingers through a strand down my back. “She’s not cutting it, is she?”

My insides jolt at his touch, but I force myself to be still. Everything is cool. Nothing to see here. When I think I have control of my voice again, I turn my head his way. It’s not lost on me that his hand still lingers low on my back.

“Only a trim,” I say. “It’s overdue.”

“Like years overdue,” Micki chimes in.

Leo’s hand twitches against my back at the intrusion into our private sphere, but before he can pull away, I scoot a few inches closer to him and lean into his touch. He stills again, seeming to get my message.

“I don’t mean to alarm you,” Micki continues to Leo, “but you’re not going to recognize her when I’m done. That rats’ nest will be a thing of the past.” She gestures to my head. “Pearls before swine.”

Jaz and Donna nod.

“I’d give anything for hair like that,” Donna says.

As the three of them continue their rant about people not taking care of their tresses the way they should, I finish my third beer and set it down.

“I like it, too,” Leo says beside me, and now his fingers start moving. They tug softly at the ends of my hair, each pull sending electric sparks across my scalp.

Between his touch and the alcohol warming my blood, I’m melting in my seat. If I was a cat, I’d be purring. I steal another glance at Leo, and this time I don’t look away when his gaze catches me. Because I am caught. A little bit against my will, and definitely against my better judgment. I want Leo. I want to talk to him, to touch him, to kiss him, to ride next to him in the car, to chase dogs through tunnels with him. I’m not sure when this happened, I just know that it did.

I’m stupidly lost in him until a pointy boot hits my shin, reminding me we’re not alone at the table.

“Didn’t you say you had to get up early tomorrow to finish your dress?” Micki asks me, her voice one hundred percent failing at hiding how much she’s dying to stand up and shout “told you so” in front of everyone in the brewery.

I do have to get up early. But it’s not that late and—

“I’ll walk you home if you need to go,” Leo volunteers.

“That’s so nice.” Micki sighs. “Isn’t that nice?”

I send her a faux-icy glare. She’s not even trying to be subtle. “Sure. I still have to settle my bill, though. Are you sure you don’t want to stay for another round?” I ask Leo.

He shakes his head. “I’m good. And I’ve got the tab. I’ll go tell the bartender.”

He’s halfway across the room before I can voice a protest at his chivalry. The bench is instantly colder with him gone.

“You’re welcome,” Micki hisses across the table. “Now, take him home and do nasty things to him. For your sake. End the drought.”

“Charming.”

“You know you want to. He wants to.”

Leo is waiting for the bartender to return with his check. He’s leaning against the bar counter, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm. He glances my way, catching me gawking, and the corner of his mouth turns up.

Micki looks like she’s about to start clapping her hands in celebration.

“Chill,” I tell her, putting on my jacket. “I’m not sleeping with him. He’s walking me home.”

She pouts. “But you’d make such beautiful babies.”

“Okay, you weirdo. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye guys,” I say to the others.

Micki blows me a kiss.

“Ready?” I hand Leo his jacket.

He finishes signing the receipt and slides it across the bar. “Ready.”

---