“Oh hell, take advantage,” Charlie said. “It’s not every day a knight in shining armor shows up. Fletcher’s got you.”
Yeah, he did. He always had. And now he was here, in the flesh, looking protective and determined. It would be so easy to just turn it all over to him. If he thought she should go home, then she could just nod and say, “Okay.” No thinking, no weighing pros and cons, no worries. Just “okay.”
“You cannot be trusted to make decisions today,” Naomi agreed.
Jordan frowned. “Hey.”
Naomi pointed to her own head.
Jordan’s hand flew up to touch her hair where it was now streaked purple. Dammit. She tipped her head back, took a long deep breath, then focused on her friends again. “Okay. Fletcher’s in charge.”
“And have Fletcher help with the hair,” Charlie said, matter-of-factly.
“I could try washing it out.”
“It won’t all come out,” Charlie said. “It will fade and look weird. Just go for it. Dark purple stripes. And wear the silky red dress I saw in the closet.”
“No way,” Jordan said quickly. “If I’m getting on a plane later and coming home to Louisiana…” The reality of that hit her.
She couldn’t stay in Vegas. She couldn’t even stay in this suite for another night. This was Jason’s suite. He had let her stay, not even calling her or coming up last night—again, knowing better. But eventually he would want access to his room. And she sure wasn’t going to share it with him.
“She needs to look casual,” Naomi said. “Just relaxed and comfortable and happy. Like she barely gave any thought to how she looked. Because it didn’t even occur to her to care.”
Jordan liked the sound of that. It seemed less likely to involve high heels, for one thing. For another, no hairspray. She was so sick of hairspray. Her naturally straight hair refused to hold curl without a gallon of the stuff and Marci, Jason’s hair and makeup girl, had been insistent that Jordan’s hair be curled. For some reason.
“Yes. Casual,” she agreed. “I want that.”
Charlie rolled her eyes. Charlie knew Jordan would always choose casual. For a girl who liked heels as much as Charlie did, Jordan could be very frustrating. Of course, Charlie’s blond hair was perfectly wavy and always gorgeous, even without hairspray, so she didn’t really understand Jordan’s aversion to spending time in front of the vanity mirror.
Naomi, on the other hand, got it. Growing up on television, from age eight to fourteen, she’d had her hair messed with on a daily basis. She often talked about the time spent by hairstylists on straightening her naturally coiled hair into sleek black strands. The process had done a lot of damage. Now Naomi preferred her hair untouched and wore her hair in braids a lot of the time.
Of course, Jordan’s aversion to all the fussing was just general laziness and not wanting to mess with it at all. Naomi had much better reasons.
“Fine.” Charlie sounded put out. At least Naomi did like lipstick and doing her nails and other things Charlie liked. “Go get Fletcher. Get your hair fixed.”
She didn’t have a better idea, so Jordan set the computer on the bathroom counter and went to the bedroom door. She pulled it open.
“Hey, Fletcher?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you come in here for a minute?”
He crossed the room. “What’s going on? You’re not dressed.”
She turned her head and pointed to the purple stripe in her hair. “I could use some help.”
He lifted a brow. “Yeah, I noticed that. What happened?”
“Momentary freak out while downstairs in the gift shop.”
Half his mouth curled up into a grin. “So what do you need help with?”
“I need you to help me finish my hair in the back where I can’t see it.”
He looked puzzled. “Help you do what to your hair?”
“More purple stripes.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
She stepped back and swung the door to the bedroom open wider. “Lucky for you, Charlie and Naomi are still on my computer.”
“And they agree this is a good idea?”
“They agree that there isn’t a better option.” Jordan said.
He sighed and stepped into the bedroom. “Okay, show me what to do.”
Jordan turned and led him into the bathroom. This was one thing she definitely appreciated about Fletcher Landry—he was easy-going and particularly with her. If she said she needed something, he didn’t ask a lot of questions. He just stepped up and did what needed to be done.
In the bathroom, she showed him the box of dye and both Charlie and Naomi weighed in with tips.
“You have to be dressed like this while we do this?” Fletcher asked from behind her.
They were both facing the mirror, with her in front of him. His hands were in her hair, combing his fingers through it and for a moment she couldn’t focus on what he’d asked her. Damn that felt good.
She was trying to remember if Fletcher had ever run his fingers through her hair before. And if so, why she didn’t remember it. He had really big hands. She was sure this wasn’t the first time she’d ever noticed that but suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Big hands, and long thick fingers.
“Jordan?”
Her eyes went from her hair gliding between his fingers to his eyes in the mirror. “Yeah?”
“I asked if you need to wear this while we do this. Can you put something else on?”
“No, I don’t want to get dye on anything else. You need to focus.”
Which was completely hypocritical of her to say, considering all she could think about was how intimate this suddenly seemed. Even with her two best girlfriends on the computer essentially watching. She was barely dressed, they were standing in a hotel bathroom, his hands were in her hair—his big, hot hands—and he was about to…do something. She couldn’t quite remember the details. Hair dye. Right, he was going to help her dye her hair. But honestly, she would’ve had to think for a few seconds to come up with what color.
That was super weird.
She was distracted by Fletcher.
She knew all of Fletcher’s tricks and quirks and could easily ignore them or look past them. But now he had his hands on her and she couldn’t think straight?
This had to be a product of being dumped on national television, sleeping like crap, and the craziness of being recognized as a public figure downstairs in the hotel lobby.
Or something.
She became aware that Naomi and Charlie had apparently given Fletcher his next instructions as he leaned past her to reach for the applicator. His chest pressed against her upper back and his arm brushed the side of her breast.
Tingles raced through her body.
Yeah. Super weird.
Over the next few minutes, Fletcher applied the hair dye in four long strokes down the back of her head. When he got to the right side, he met her eyes in the mirror. “Want me to keep going or do you want to do it?”
She simply shook her head. “You.”
She was suddenly too flustered to put hair dye on her own head.
He stroked the applicator in more stripes then leaned to put it away. Finally. Each time he leaned forward to get more dye, his body had pressed and brushed against hers.