The familiar sounds of Jared in the kitchen opening the cabinet where we keep Mixie’s food come through the doorway, while her eager meows mingle with his murmurs as he fills her bowl.
The bedroom window stands open a crack, a cool breeze slipping across my bare skin and raising goose bumps. I leave it open. After hours in the crowded ballroom, I welcome the chill.
I drape the dress over the back of my reading chair, smoothing a hand over the fabric. It was worth every penny, even if formal wear has never been my favorite thing to shop for. The saleswoman had raised her eyebrows when I rejected dress after dress that tried to soften my muscular frame or hide my height.
This one had been perfect, if only for the way Jared had gone still the first time he saw me in it.
In the bathroom, I stand before the mirror and begin removing the pins that had kept my silver hair out of my eyes while allowing me to wear it down. It falls past my shoulders now, longer than I’ve kept it in years.
The final pin comes free, and I run my fingers through the strands, massaging my scalp where they’d pulled too tight. Should I let it continue growing, or return to the practical bob I’ve worn since establishing my construction business?
I gather the length of it in one hand, holding it away from my neck. The weight surprises me after years of shortcuts, yet the way it frames my face holds an unexpected appeal.
“Keep it.”
The suggestion startles me, and I drop my hair as I find Jared in the mirror, leaning in the doorway, his shirt still unbuttoned, staring at me with unmistakable heat.
“Reading my mind?” I ask as he moves up behind me.
His hands settle on my waist, thumbs rubbing small circles over my skin. “You’ve been playing with your hair all night.”
“Have I?” Heat rises to my cheeks at being so transparent.
Jared hums in affirmation, lowering his head to kiss the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, and the contact sends a shiver down my spine.
I lean back to let his broad chest support me and feel the rumble of contentment from deep inside him. Not quite a purr, not yet, but heading there. My own Alpha instincts respond, warming to his pleasure. His tall frame fits perfectly behind mine, his sandy-brown hair contrasting with my silver.
“So, you think I should keep it?” I ask.
“I think you should do what brings you joy.” Jared’s arms encircle my waist, holding me close. “Short, long, shaved on one side with the rest in braids… You’d still be you.”
His answer eases an uncertainty I hadn’t acknowledged. “Auren always insisted I keep it short. Said long hair wasn’t…”
Jared’s reflection scowls. “Wasn’t what?”
I swallow. “Proper for an Alpha. He said it made me appear weak.”
Jared’s grip on my waist tightens for a fraction of a second before relaxing. “Auren had a lot of bad opinions about how you should present yourself. He was wrong about a lot of things.”
The understatement hangs between us. Auren had opinions about everything from my clothes to my voice to how I carried myself in public. Small corrections delivered with a kindness that somehow cut deeper than shouting ever could.
“He did.” I turn in Jared’s arms. “But that’s not why I kept it short. I liked it that way. It was practical for the job site.”
“And now?” Jared tucks a strand behind my ear, his touch gentle.
“Now I’m wondering if I kept it short because it was easier than having another fight,” I confess.
Jared’s arms tighten around me. “You’re beautiful either way.”
The simplicity of his statement draws a laugh from me. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the truth.” He brushes his knuckles along my jawline. “Your beauty isn’t in your haircut, Em. It’s in how you move through a room. How people look to you for guidance. How you build things with your hands and your heart.”
My throat tightens at his sincerity.
“Besides,” he continues, his lips quirking upward, “long hair gives me more to hold on to.”
The suggestive words lighten the moment, and I smack his chest. “Is that so?”