Free True Devotion by Dee Henderson Page A

didn’t you tell me I have a nice black eye?”
    “You haven’t had breakfast yet,” he replied, holding back laughter. “Bad news before you eat isn’t fair.”
    She gingerly touched the black ring under her left eye. “The last one of these I had was when Nick beaned me with that line drive hit.” She had been playing third base in the Coronado charity softball game; her husband was on the opposing team. The game was tied, and a cheer went up when Nick made contact with the second pitch. It had shot down the third baseline right at her. With no time to get her glove up, she tried to twist out of the way but was hit instead. She dropped like a rock. She had never seen her husband so rattled. It took her days to shake off the concussion. “How’d I get this one?”
    “You don’t remember?”
    “No.”
    She washed her face, then looked with resignation at her matted hair. Long, thick, black, and wavy, her hair was prone to tangle, and salt water severely aggravated the problem. She had always wished the sun would lighten it to at least a glowing sable, but it just stayed a light-absorbing dark.
    Her eyes watered as she tried to work the brush through her hair. She soon realized the task was going to be nearly impossible. She lowered her arms, feeling the strain of simply keeping them raised. “I need a pair of scissors.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    She smiled. He was going to love this complaint. “My hair.”
    “It’s not that bad.”
    She leaned around the doorway. “There speaks a guy with a military haircut.”
    “True.” He pulled over the other chair. “Come sit down; I’ll do it for you.”
    “You?”
    “Hey, my dog doesn’t have any complaints.”
    “Joe—” She smiled as she chided him for the teasing. She looked back in the mirror and lifted a matted strand of hair. It looked about like Misha’s on a bad day.
    “I’ll go easy.”
    She remembered Nick brushing her hair occasionally, how intimate the action could be when it was meant as more than an impersonal touch. “I need the help.” She took the seat he had pulled over and held the brush out.
    Joe turned her slightly away from him and gathered her hair back. “You’ve been letting it grow.”
    “Yes.” Her voice had gone husky.
    “I like it long.”
    He didn’t say anything else, and after a few moments Kelly relaxed her initial stiffness and closed her eyes to simply enjoy the sensation. It took patience to brush it out section by section like Joe was doing, pausing to work out each tangle. It was a soothing feeling.
    Her thoughts drifted as the silence lengthened.
    Why had she said I love you ? She didn’t intend to say the words. She probably embarrassed him—she knew him long enough to know that. He’d handle it tactfully, but he wouldn’t ignore it—she was also certain about that.
    She loved who Joe was. Everything about him: his character, his absolute honesty, his tact, his self-discipline, his leadership. She had been comfortable with him since the day Nick introduced them. She trusted him. When he had shown up in the water and slid his arm around her, held her tight, she knew she was finally safe. She knew he would come. Years of depending on him and he never let her down. He was a wonderful friend.
    But she wanted something more. She was glad her head was bent and her expression hidden because she had the awful suspicion that she was blushing. Her emotions were confusing. This was Joe, and she’d just managed to throw her ability to think about him as her friend totally off. She was incredibly aware of him at the moment, every move he made as he brushed her hair. Having his arms wrap around her again, by choice . . . She sighed, admitting the obvious. It would be wonderful—and the idea scared her to death.
    Joe had a romantic streak. He’d brought a few dates to the platoon gatherings over the years and she had seen how he treated his dates. When Joe chose to focus on a woman, he made her life very special.