Page 44 of When in Rome

I can’t say I’m necessarily happy she cheated on me, but it did give me the push I needed to end things, or else I might have wasted a lot more time being miserable with a woman who was all wrong for me. And after it officially crumbled, I vowed I would never force a relationship with someone whose life doesn’t automatically fit with mine from the start. Because that’s what Merritt and I boiled down to—two people who needed different things and couldn’t find any common ground.

Amelia hesitates a minute and must see something honest in my expression that I don’t mean to be showing, because she smiles and shakes her head. “Then no. I don’t want to hear it. Sounds like a real buzzkill to our morning.” Her blue eyes dart up to mine and they’re glinting. I shove my hands in my pockets and lightly bump my shoulder against hers. In quiet, introverted, hates-discussing-feelings language, I just saidthank you.

Her shoulder bumps mine back.

“So what part of the town do you want to explore first?”

Amelia pauses and looks thoughtfully around. With her eyes distracted, I’m able to really take her in for the first time today. She’s wearing a simple cream-colored summer dress, with thin straps. I like the way the dress hugs her chest and torso, but sort of flares out a little at the waist. The bottom half of it sways back and forth when she walks. She looks so pretty it hurts.

“What’s that place?” she says, squinting at the building across the street. Her lips are extrapink today and I wonder if she’s wearing lipstick or tinted ChapStick. I know the difference because I used my sister’s tinted ChapStick once thinking it was the regular kind and had ripe, red lips for the rest of the night because my sisters thought it was hilarious not to tell me. I don’t think Amelia’s wearing lipstick, the color looks too natural. Kissable.

Right.Enough about her lips. I know exactly where to take her.

I turn in the direction she’s pointing. “That’s the hair salon.”

—

“Wait,” says Amelia, hitting the brakes on the sidewalk. “It’s too scary. I can’t go in there.”

“It’s just a beauty shop.”

Amelia’s eyes slide to the front window and she peers inside like a woman eyeing a diamond necklace in the shop display of Tiffany’s. A few minutes ago, she told me she’s wanted to cut her hair for so long but could never get up the nerve to do it. She’scontemplating doing it now, so I go stand beside her, shoulder to shoulder as we stare into the salon like creeps.

Heather, Tanya, and Virginia are all in there working to loud music and laughing with clients. The scene is cheery, if not a little over-the-top.

I look down at Amelia. “I’m failing to see the threat here.”

“I can’t do it,” she says in a daze. “I realllyyyy want to, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because Susan will be mad. Like really mad. My hair is athing.It’s part of what I’m known for.”

With this new insight, my eyes trace the long waves of her hair cascading down her back. It is beautiful—the kind of hair that makes me want to tangle my fingers in it. Part of me is sad I’ll never get to do that, but I’m also getting real sick of hearing Susan’s name, so I will encourage Amelia to chop it off to her ears right now if that’s what’s going to bring her freedom. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize it was Susan’s hair. That makes sense then.” I’m being a smart-ass but she likesit.

She laughs with sad amusement and then looks up at me—shoulders sagging in premature defeat. “I can’t, Noah. I just can’t. I know it’s silly but it’s how things work for someone in my position. I don’t own my image anymore.”

“Okay.” I shrug. “But I’m just saying, if you want to be rebellious and break the Law of Susan, I’ll whip the truck up to the curb and you can slide inDukes of Hazzardstyle when your haircut is finished, and we’ll make sure Susan can never catchus.”

She grins.“Us?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve seen you drive my truck. Snails were passing you—flipping you the bird and everything. It was embarrassing.” Amelia laughs and shakes her head, turning her eyes back to the window. And I realize in this moment, I’d do just about anything to make her laugh.What’s happening tome?

Looking through the window, Amelia takes one full breath and then nods once—firmly. She looks up at me again, and this time, she’s determined. There’s fire in those crystal-blue eyes. Determination looks so damn sexy on her. It’s making that fierce desire to kiss her boil up inside me again.

“Okay, I’m doing it. I’m going in there and I’m getting my hair cut. Better get the truck ready, Bo Duke,” she says, bouncing from foot to foot like a prizefighter about to step into the ring. If she had a mouthguard, she’d slip it over her teeth. I need to tape her knuckles. “I’m a woman who eats pancakes and gets her hair cut when she wants to. I’m my own damn boss, and I’m taking my life back!” She heads toward the door, puts her hand on the doorknob, and then quickly lets go and paces back to me. Nope, she passes right by me. She’s zooming toward the truck, and then abruptly freezes again. Slowly, she turns back around and treks her way to the door once again. We repeat that whole process two more times.

So on her fourth trip to the door, and when I can tell she’s about to lose steam again, I go up behind Amelia, open the door, and push my hand against her lower back, nudging her over the threshold. “It’s been entertaining as hell to watch, but I’m starting to get dizzy from all the back and forth.”

She looks at me over her shoulder with a thankful smile. “I was going to go in that time anyway.”

“Sure you were.”

“Are you going stay withme?”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to. Hell, I’d hold her hand in there if she asked me to. But I know I can’t let myself do that. If I’m going to keep myself from falling for her, I’ve got to keep some boundaries. Get some space and clear my head.

I hitch my thumb over my shoulder as I step backward. “I’m supposed to meet someone for lunch. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

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