I twirl my finger in her silky hair. It smells like my shampoo. It’s a strangely intoxicating observation.“Elise might feel that way, but Howard doesn’t. He cares what you think. How you feel.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you still defending him?”
“Are you still doubting whose side I’m on?” I tug on the strand of hair I’m holding. “I’m Team Belle.
Do I need a shirt or something? Should I tattoo your name on my neck?”
A small smile lifts the corner of her mouth. “You’ve got enough tattoos as it is, and a shirt is a littleostentatious, I think. Your men already think I’m crazy. Labeling you might be a bad idea.”
“True. So how about some artwork?” I suggest.
“You mean the drawings you have framed in your office?”
I arch an eyebrow. “You noticed?”
Her cheeks flush. “The second
