Page 60 of Heart Over Heels
I nearly choked on the irony. He wouldn’t have known the meaning of that phrase if I hadn’t explained it to him, along with the rest of the dolls. Fetishizing our differences was preferable to apologizing for them. But I was not in a place to prove that point right now.
“Don’t preach my gospel back at me!” I snapped, giving my right bun a squeeze. “And this isn’t for the customers.”
Colt’s brows jumped. “Now it’s even weirder.”
Before I could tell him exactly where he could shove his opinion, Callum wandered in.
“Colt, did you take the…” His green eyes flicked from me to the counter full of beauty carnage, then his mouth tipped up. “Cute dress.”
I shot Colt a look and pitched my voice syrupy sweet. “Thank you,Cal.”
Colt made a scoffing sound. “Shoulda got a poodle skirt to go with the poodle hair.”
Callum edged closer and began rummaging through the shower tote Colt had abandoned.
Colt squinted at him. “Whatcha looking for?”
Callum flicked me an apologetic look before muttering under his breath, “Lube.”
“Oh yeah?” Colt’s lips split in a wolfish grin. “Gonna slip yourself a finger? You can borrow one of mine.” He raised his hand with digits spread, and Callum flushed scarlet.
He was still blotchy from Colt’s jab when he turned toward me and latched onto the first lifeline he could find. “What’re you getting pretty for, Darb?”
“Bingo.”
Colt blinked. “Like with the cards and daubers?”
“Is there another kind?”
He tilted his head, genuinely baffled. “Just doesn’t seem like your crowd is all. They got prizes?”
Dropping the comb, I bared my teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Oh, there’s a prize, all right,” I said. “Winner gets his dick sucked courtesy of yours truly.”
Colt’s eyes bugged. “Serious?”
“Would that make it my crowd?”
He frowned like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to argue or call my bluff. Finally, he shrugged. “I dunno, man.”
I dropped the comb and checked my reflection, turning my head from side to side and wondering if I should have gone with a black wig instead of white. Actually, from what I’d seen of the VFW crowd, I’d fit right in.
“What’s eatin’ you?” Colt drawled after a few seconds had passed. “Did I step on your tail or something? Whereisyour tail, anyway?”
I hiked the side of my skirt, flashing my thigh and my tail coiled around it.
Colt gave another whistle. “This is some deep undercover shit.”
“It’s acostume,” I reiterated before yanking my hem down. “And I’m a performer. No different than what we do every night.”
Colt tilted his head, his face shadowed by the brim of his Stetson. “If you say so.” He turned away, shifting his interest to Callum, who was wrist-deep in their shower tote. Damn thing must have been like Mary Poppins’s purse for how long and hard he’d been searching.
The moment of peace was interrupted when the bathroom door swung open and Oz and Elliot tromped in. Fresh from the gym, both were dripping with sweat.
In a clingy tee shirt and shorts, Oz loomed head and shoulders taller than Elliot, who wore joggers and an open-sided tank that exposed the black and red flower tattoos crawling down his arms and across his back.
I puffed out a breath at the intrusion and started unplugging my hot tools from the outlet. “Now arriving at Grand Central Station…”
“Darby, your date’s here,” Elliot announced. He adjusted the drawstring backpack slung over one shoulder, probably stuffed with soap and clean clothes for the shower he was clearly eyeing.
