I tuck a wavy piece behind her ear, running my fingers down the short length of it. “You don’t regret it?” She shakes her head, her smile sad. “No.” “Good,” I murmur. “Because I’ve always had a thing for short hair.” “Oh, really?” She laughs as I sway us in a circle. “It’s true. Among other things, of course.” I shrug a shoulder. “Short hair. Ocean-blue eyes. Twenty-eight freckles. And”—I pause, examining her with a tilt of my head—“how tall are you?” She blinks in confusion. “Umm, about five and a half feet?” “Five and a half feet,” I continue evenly. “The terrifying ability to kick a man’s
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awwwww
