Page 11 of Dirty Roxie
Roxie
“See, now, that guy,” I turn to murmur to Roberto while pointing at Ronan. “The guy that says those things, that’s a guy a girl could totally fuck.”
The tequila has made me chatty. Case in point, the comment I just made about fucking Ronan.
“But when he’s all,Grrr. I’m mean and angry. Pissed off at the world, it’s like, meh, not so much.” I shrug. “You know?”
“Yes,” Roberto agrees. “I will rarely fuck him when he’s upset.”
I giggle and lean into him. He giggles and leans back.
Ronan glares across the table at us. “If you two are finished exchanging friendship bracelets, can we get back to business, please?”
“We must decide on the disguise, no?” Roberto asks.
“Yes! I love disguises!” I clap my hands and bounce in my seat. Loving when Ronan’s eyes immediately go to my chest. I cup my breasts and push them together while blowing him a kiss. He rolls his eyes, but he wants to laugh, I can see it in his eyes, right alongside desire. It’s brief but bold, once again I’m impressed by how well he’s able to hold his emotions in.
Roberto produces a small case from under the table. When he opens it, I’m delighted to find it’s filled with wigs, prosthetics, contact lenses, and glasses.
“Ladies first.” He turns the case toward me, and I pore through its contents.
“This is better than shopping,” I tell him. Roberto winks in return.
I like this guy. He’s handsome and flirty, funny, and charming, plus he brought tequila and disguises.
Roberto helps me push my hair up into the skull cap to try on a bright pink bob cut. Ronan moves to the other side of the table, mumbling to himself while plucking away at his phone.
“I love it!” I say, checking out my reflection in a handheld mirror.
Ronan looks up from his phone, says, “No,” then returns his attention to the small screen.
“Why?”
He sighs and looks up again. “The goal is to blend, not draw attention. A beautiful woman will draw attention, anyway. If you add the bright pink, it’s like you’re asking for people to notice you.”
Ronan has a point. But all I really hear from that is that he thinks I’m beautiful. Which I immediately squeal about under my breath to Roberto.
“Not a tough assertion on his part,hermosa.” He smiles.
“Isn’t that brother in Spanish?” I ask.
He chuckles. “No, that is hermano. What I called you is gorgeous, beautiful.”
“Why thank you, kind sir.” I flutter my eyelashes at him. “May I just say you arehermosaas well.”
“Hermosois the masculine, for the man.”
“Hermoso,” I repeat.
“Muy bien.”
I beam at his praise. For some reason it sounds better being complimented in Spanish. Maybe it’s his accent, I’m not sure. I definitely like the way Ronan says I’m beautiful with his accent. Though I’ve not heard him say it in Russian.
Speaking of, Ronan appears at my side and plucks a black wig and some colored contacts from the case, handing them to me.
“This. With the makeup to cover the freckles, yes?”
He pulls a pair of thick-rimmed glasses from the case, a prosthetic nose, and a blond wig, then tries on all three. Transforming him from dark-haired and aristocratic looking to the male equivalent of the librarian fantasy for men.
