“Oh, umm…” I lick my lips—my mouth is dry—so I nod at him. He kisses my forehead and leaves. I look around the kitchen, trying to come up with an idea of how to get out of this. When I can’t come up with a reason or an excuse, I go up to my room. I shower and take my time getting ready. I sit at my vanity and take out the makeup I haven't touched since I moved here.
I do my hair, curling it and leaving it down in loose curls. Then I work on doing my makeup, trying to cover up my scars. I look at the clock and hurry to get dressed. I pick a purple sundress I bought on a whim and hid in the back of the closet, pairing it with beige kitten heels.
The doorbell rings, and I take one last glance at myself in the mirror in my bedroom and walk to the front door. I open it and see him. He’s freshly showered, wearing a black dress shirt and black denim that fits him great. He also has a bunch of the yellow wildflowers that grow in the back field of the ranch.
His smile disappears, and a frown falls over his handsome face. “What did you do?” he asks, and I look down at what I'm wearing and lightly touch my face.
“What do you mean? I thought, umm—Is this not dressy enough for The Tipsy Cow?”
“Your face.”
“What about it?” Heat hits. “I’m sorry, does it look bad?” I try to step back from him, but he doesn’t let me. He moves closer, one hand holding the back of my head and the other holding my hip.
“You don’t need all of that.”
“It's just makeup,” I whisper. “Women wear it all the time.”
“Hadley, I get that. But I swear, baby, you don’t need it. You don’t need to wear that for me. At all. I like you the way you are.”
“I didn’t want to embarrass you,” I say, looking down and away from his knowing gaze. “I can stay home. You should go and—”
He places my fingers on my chin and gently pulls my face upward so our eyes lock.
“That could never happen, Hadley. I swear you could have been wearing the outfit from earlier, and I would have happily and proudly danced with you.”
I want to believe him, I really do. But a heavy weight settles in my stomach. A part of me starts to think that maybe he’s having second thoughts.
12
Grayson
She barely touches her food.
She was quiet the short drive here to The Tipsy Cow. We’re already halfway through our meal, and she’s barely touched her steak. I know I screwed up back at the house. It seems that’s all I do around her. Instead of making her feel like the beautiful woman she is, I say something stupid, and she gets even more insecure.
I gaze at her while she watches the band set up. They’ve got a dance floor outside tonight, and it’s an unexpected treat to be out here under the stars instead of inside a loud bar. Hadley is radiant. That’s what I should have said to her when I picked her up. I shake my head and reach for her hand across the table. “Hadley.”
Her eyes flick to mine, and she looks at me guardedly. “Yeah, Gray?”
My hand curls around hers and squeezes. Yeah, she’s not real happy with me right now, but she’s at least calling me by my nickname. “You’re beautiful, Hadley.” She blushes, and I continue. “That’s what I should have said to you when you came to the door. I should have led with that.”
She searches my face, and I know she has to see the sincerity there. “It’s okay, Gray.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have made you feel uncomfortable. You’re beautiful no matter what. With makeup, without. In your worn-out coveralls and ball cap and in your dress,” I tell her, pointing at the purple dress she has on. “I just…” I stop, afraid I’m going to fuck it up again.
She leans toward me. “What? Go ahead, you can say it.”
I shrug and tighten my hold on her hand. I definitely don’t want to screw this up again. “I just want you to know that no matter what, I like you. The real you.”
She blinks, and for just a second, I’m afraid she’s going to cry. She sniffles, but thank fuck she doesn’t cry. “Thank you.”
And then she smiles. A big smile that hits me right in the chest and then spreads through my whole body. “Do you forgive me then?”
She pulls her hand away and stands up. I do the same, ready to pounce if she tries to walk away or something. “I’m going to go dance. Do you want to dance with me?”
I’m not the dancing type. I have two left feet, but I don’t even care. I’ll do anything she ever asks me if it means I get to have her in my arms. I walk toward her and put my hands on her waist. “I’m not a good dancer, but I definitely want to hold you.”
Her eyes brighten, and she leans into me. “Well, let’s go, cowboy.”