“Totally Ginnifer Goodwin—from Once Upon a Time,” she says with a lopsided grin, referencing our favorite TV show. Too bad the final season was so awful.

When I shoot her a dreamy smile in return, we sigh and say at the exact same time, “Mmm… Captain Hook.”

I snort, and she giggles as I run my fingers through her hair. “Will Walsh care if you cut it off?”

“Pfft.” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t care if he cares. It’s my hair, but I doubt he would. He’s totally seen me at my worse, and he still seems to love me.”

My mind drifts to Benjamin and our rendezvous last night at The Wicked Horse. He had me on the see-through floor of The Deck—which is forty-plus stories above the streets of Vegas—and he’d fucked my brains out from behind. He’d wrapped the length of my hair around his hand and wrist. Forced my head backward to stare at the stars. I came so hard I’d seen double.

After we’d finished, he’d gently released my hair from his grip and muttered, “Love this fucking hair of yours.”

The words had been said gruffly, but they’d held such affection my heart tripped over. Benjamin is usually anything but affectionate, but he is a great fuck, so at least there’s that… even if his tone had confused me.

“I know that look on your face,” Jorie says slyly, throwing me a wink through the mirror. “Might as well spill it all and update me.”

“Make a decision on your hair first,” I demand. “I can talk while I cut.”

“Ginnifer Goodwin me up,” she replies adamantly.

I give her a poke in the ribs. “Okay… sit up straight, though.”

Grumbling, she straightens her spine. “Don’t you need to wash my hair first?”

“Nope,” I say as I reach into the top drawer of my station to pull out my folding razor, then flourish it above her head with a grin. “Going old school.”

“Cool,” she replies.

Picking up a lock of her hair, I start sawing away. I make chunky cuts I’ll feather more delicately later, but I brace myself for more questions.

“So, spill everything about Benjamin.”

Jorie knows we’ve reconnected. I called her the morning after he showed up at The Wicked Horse and stopped my planned threesome. When I’d explained how Benjamin stormed in, brandished his cane threateningly, and ran the two alpha dudes off—as well as how totally hot it made me—and that we’d had the most amazing sex ever and were seeing each other again, Jorie had agreed it was sexy, but she’d been surprisingly closemouthed with her opinions.

“What does it mean?” was all she’d asked.

When I’d had to reply with, “I’m not really sure,” Jorie had only hummed before changing the subject.

That was four nights ago.

I don’t have any more clarity really, so I fill her in on the facts. “We’ve seen each other every night this week.”

“All at The Wicked Horse?” she asks.

It bugs me he hasn’t offered to come to Henderson like he had before we broke up, and it must show in my tone. “Yeah… all at The Wicked Horse.”

Her expression is sharp. “Is that all it is then? Just club sex?”

“What else would it be?” I ask with a light laugh and a wave of my hand.

Appearing perplexed, she shrugs, but luckily not while I’m in the midst of cutting. “I don’t know… I was hoping perhaps his display of jealousy meant something more.”

“Well, it sort of did. I mean… he’s made it clear he doesn’t share.”

“Big whoop,” she mutters with an eye roll. “I want a magnificent display or a grand gesture or something.”

“I’m not so sure I do,” I say hesitantly.

“Bullshit,” she snaps, and I stare at her through the mirror for a moment. “You were really hurt when he called things off. You have feelings. The mere fact you are monogamous rather than getting your rocks off with random dudes, which has been your modus operandi forever now, is telling.”

I don’t fall for her bait—just blow her off. “Whatever. Right now, I’m happy. I’m having the best sex of my life, I’ve finally found a man who isn’t codependent on me, and he treats me like a queen between the sheets. Tell me why that shouldn’t satisfy me?”

“Because you’re built to love someone,” she murmurs. “I want you to have love the way I do. I want you to get married and have kids so our kids can play together, and you’re full of shit if you say you don’t want those things.”

“I do,” I admit. “You’ve known me our whole lives, so you know I do. I’m tired of always picking the losers who would make shitty husbands and even shittier fathers. It’s easier to keep my expectations really low.”

“So Benjamin is different in he’s not relying on you to make him happy or support him, yet he’s only good enough to see inside a sex club?”

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