Her eyes narrowed, and I swear her hair grew as she put her hands on her hips. “I fell asleep with it wet last night.”
Don’t focus on her saying she was wet anywhere, Carter.
Shifting my weight from foot to foot to try and distract my body’s attention from her being wet, I thought about a route that’d dig me out of the hole I’d dug for myself.
“I see.” That was it. Those two words made up my whole defense.
Sweeping a hand down the length of her hair, Naomi sniffed, “It’s not even that bad this morning, so you should count yourself lucky you didn’t see it in all its wild glory.”
“You mean it gets worse than that?”
Fuck my life. Why was this happening? Usually, my brain-to-mouth filter was so tightly engaged not even a laugh got through without me wanting it to. All I could think was the shock of seeing her hair like it was had fried it.
“Aunt No-mee,” Shanti called from the living room. “Is Carter there?”
Saved by the kid. Had I mentioned how much I loved her?
“Yeah, baby,” she called back over her shoulder, turning her head, and showing me the back of the mess. Jesus, it was even worse back there. “He’s just coming in.”
Sweeping my hand out, I cleared my throat. “After you.”
Really, I just wanted to see it from the back again. I mean, I wanted to see her from the back, too, but I was still struggling to compute how her hair looked right now to the shiny, sleek waterfall Naomi normally had on the top of her head.
How women did that, I didn’t know. I’d been in Delicious Divas enough times to know it was possible to tame hair, but I’d never really stopped and thought about the before versus the after. It blew my mind that women had the patience to style their hair and do their makeup the way they did. I was a body and hair wash combined guy who just showered and combed.
Usually for work, I had a cap that covered it anyway, but if I was going out somewhere or it was a special occasion, I made sure the longer hair on the top of my head looked decent—by combing it. That was all I needed. Sometimes I shaved, but more often than not, I left a scruff on my jaw because it was easier to manage. I hated five o’clock shadow, how itchy my jaw felt with a proper beard, and I hated the burn after shaving it all off, so scruff was easier for me.
I was a simple human being and seeing Naomi’s hair right now just highlighted that fact to me. Sure, I’d seen her without makeup on before, but I’d definitely remember if I’d seen her before she’d done her hair if this was what it looked like. Then again, no one would be able to forget it.
“I know what you’re doing,” she growled, not looking over her shoulder as I followed her through the doorway. “Stop staring at it.”
She was asking the impossible.
“Would it not be more comfortable tying it up?”
I wasn’t being rude, I was just wondering. If I had long hair that thick and fuzzy, I’d be sweating my ass off, plus it had to be uncomfortable as hell.
“Ya think?” she hissed, spinning around, and glaring at me. “Except I live with a little girl who goes through hair ties like… like…” her hands flapped in the air as she searched for a comparison. Finally, giving up, she waved them around instead. “I can’t find one, not even the one I was wearing yesterday. It’s almost criminal.”
I could confirm it wasn’t, but I wasn’t dumb enough to say it out loud for once today.
Movement out of the corner of my eye showed the little girl who’d stolen my heart with one hug all those years ago in Tamsin and Garrett’s house, walking toward us in cartoon pajamas. What made me burst out laughing was when she held her wrist out, showing she was wearing colorful and sparkly hair ties on it, all the way up to her elbow.
“But they look like pretty bracelets.”
Turning to face her niece to see what she was talking about, Naomi squeaked. “That’s where they all are? I asked you earlier if you’d seen any.”
“But they look like pretty bracelets,” Shanti repeated, turning her arm around, so the metallic ones caught the light. “I have a cool arm.”
I rubbed my hand over my mouth to cover my laughter as Naomi sucked in a breath. “Shanti, I promise we’ll hit Etsy or eBay and find real bracelets if you just give me one—one—of them.” She was practically begging now as she held up one finger. “Just one.”
Looking from her aunt’s hair back to her wrist, Shanti finally made her mind up with a sigh. “Okay, but they have to be pretty ones. There’s a lady at dance class who teaches Bollyhood dancing, and she’s got pretty bracelets all up her arms. I want those ones.”