determine whether the hair was black, off-brown, or truly gray. âHey, babe!â he called again.
âComing,â Shania called back, and he listened as her footsteps brought her closer to him. His wife, still dressed in lingerie, walked into the bedroom, looking fresh faced and radiant as she kissed him on the lips. Her breath smelled like minty mouthwash. âGood morning, birthday boy.â She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and leaned against the door frame of the bathroom. âWhereâd you head off to so early this morning? You beat the birds.â
âOver to Mother Washingtonâs. Had to fix some of the shingles on her roof. Does this look gray to you?â He held up the tweezers that still held the questionable hair hostage.
Shania dropped her jaw and gave him âthe look.â âI know you didnât just call me all the way in here to look at a piece of gray hair. Are you serious?â
âSo it is gray?â Greg said, and held the tweezers up to the light. He squinted and stared hard at the hair. âYou sure itâs gray? It doesnât look off-brown to you?â
Shania stared at him and blinked a few times. âThis is pitiful, Greg.â Against his protests, she took the tweezers from him and dropped them back into the pullout drawer.
âHey!â he said, retrieving the tweezers and glaring at her. âI wasnât finished.â
âCome on, I cooked you breakfast,â she said, and though he continued to protest, she hooked her arm through his and dragged him out of the bathroom. âYou left in such a hurry, you left your phone on the nightstand. Itâs been ringing off the hook. Nearly all the calls are from Franklin.â
He knew exactly what his co-worker Franklin was calling for, and it wasnât just to say happy birthday. About a month ago, he had seen this beautiful BMW motorcycle on a TV commercial. On a whim, he had told Franklin that he was going to treat himself to it for his birthday. Though he had said it half jokingly, Franklin, a die-hard biker and collector of vintage cars, had taken his vow to heart; and from that day forth, he had continually bombarded Greg with enough magazines, brochures, and biker jargon to drive even the savviest motorcycle mechanic insane. He had to admit, though, had it not been for Franklinâs incessant pursuit of the whole bike issue, Greg wouldnât even be considering slipping off to the BMW dealership to take a look at the motorcycles.
Still tugging at his arm and leading him down the steps into the kitchen, Shania said, âI figure since Franklin was calling so much, you two must have plans for today.â
âNot big plans,â he promised her, being deliberately aloof.
âWell, good, because I want you all to myself today.â
Greg frowned. âBut donât you have that big wedding coming up next weekend?â
âYes, I do,â she said, âbut that big wedding is going on the back burner. I have plans to make your day as special as possible.â
âJust being my wife is special enough.â He pulled her to a stop in the middle of the kitchen floor and tucked her into his arms, kissing her lips repeatedly. He ran a hand through her relaxed hair and gazed into her large, almond eyes. âYou look delicious in that little slip.â
She caught his bottom lip between hers and said into his mouth, âDo I?â
His hands slid down to her thighs, and he hooked his thumbs under the hem of her lingerie, lifting it slowly. With his lips close to her ear, he said, âBut youâd look even better without it.â
âNo, no, no,â she said, laughing, and whisked out of his arms. âYou had me up all night, giving you an early birthday present, and Iâm still sore. That, my friend, will have to wait until later.â
Still laughing, she opened the oven, and he watched her long, shapely legs, seemingly endless