Chapter Seven
It had beenages since I'd installed anything. I still knew enough of my way around tools and circuit boards to get the job done, but I wasn't quick. It was a good thing I'd arrived at April's apartment a solid three hours before she was due home and expecting me. In that time, I placed several solar-powered security lights and two closed-circuit video cameras that would feed directly to an app my R&D department had designed. April would be able to get a look at anyone in the alley and at her door without stepping outside.
"This is unexpected," she announced from a couple steps below me. There was a tote bag slung over her shoulder and a grocery bag in one hand, and she was fighting a grin. "You brought tools. To my apartment."
I pointed to the alley. "I'm addressing the bullshit situation here," I said. "By itself, the lack of lighting is a serious issue, but you need better security overall. Some closed-circuit video is the least I can do."
She looked around, noticing the lights and solar panels, her head bobbing as she regarded each item. "Yeah, this is unexpected and really quite unusual," she said. "I'm not sure what to say."
"You don't have to say anything." I tapped the video pod above the doorframe. "Consider it my way of repaying you for last night," I said, and then rapidly thought better of it. "The work you did on my leg. The massage. Not the other part."
"Good clarification," she said, laughing. "Finish up this project, and then we can try some pressure points."
I ran my palm over the days-old scruff on my jaw. I wasn't getting away without an acupuncture treatment from April, and I was only hoping that I didn't crumble like a cookie when she started with the stabbing.
"Or we can open some wine first," I offered. "I'd like to talk about that book, too. It was an interesting read. I have some thoughts I'd like to share with you."
"Maybe." April stepped around me and made a show of opening the door to her apartment. "Since we're talking about the state of security here, I think it's worth noting that I don't lock my doors." An impatient rasp rattled in my throat, and she pointed at me. "There's a vein in your forehead that looks like it's about to rupture. You should take some cleansing breaths."
She marched inside, and I couldn't help but collect the things I'd brought with me and follow.
"Why?" I asked. "Why wouldn't you lock your doors?"
April was busy unpacking her groceries, and pivoted to face me. "It's very safe here," she said, gesturing in the direction of the village. "Plenty of people keep their doors unlocked in Montauk."
"You're not one of them," I said through gritted teeth.
She waved a wedge of cheese at me and said, "What? Don't think I can handle myself?"
I set the power drill down and rubbed my forehead. I needed a minute before I could form words other thanDo as I fucking tell you, honey.
"Just because I like my zen and my namaste doesn't mean I can't kick some ass," she continued. "Honestly, Jordan, the worst thing I'll encounter in that alley is a raccoon. Maybe a skunk."
"Well, now you'll be able to see them coming," I said wryly.
"Even better," she said as she filed her goods in the refrigerator. "This would be a sensational time for you to take off your shirt—"
"You don't have to ask me twice," I said under my breath.
"—and get on the table," April continued.
She pointed behind me, at the massage table, and the joy of getting naked with a gorgeous woman cooled. I scowled at it, even though that was a petty, juvenile response.
While I was fully aware that they were what brought us together, I didn't want this evening to be about my weaknesses. It was enough that April knew of my injuries and daily discomfort. Our entire relationship—or whatever this was—didn't have to center around me and my problems.
April's arms came around my waist, her hands flat on my abs and her head on my back. "You'll enjoy the wine more after I work on your leg," she said, stroking my belly. "I promise."
"This would be more interesting if you were naked," I said. "It would definitely take my mind off the pins you're going to stick into my eyeballs."
She patted my abs. "I'm not going anywhere near your eyeballs," she said with a laugh. "I'm prioritizing your leg, as well as your shoulders. I doubt you'll even feel those. And, if it isn't too much for you, a few spots on your forehead."
I stroked my hand up her thigh. She was soft but solid, and I couldn't wait to get between those legs again. "You won't be naked?" She shook her head against my back. "That's unfortunate."
"It actually matters to me that I treat your leg and ancillary issues. I can help you, and I want you to let me," she said. "On the table."
Chastened, I complied. I couldn't deny that last evening's massage had lightened the discomfort in my leg, or that I appreciated her concern. But all of this was new to me, and I wasn't adept at handling it with grace.
April appeared by my side, and rested her hands on my forearm. "Here's how this works," she said, her words slower, smoother. "I'm going to look for muscular constrictions and reactive areas, and then stimulate those trigger points with thin, sterile pins. I'll use several needling techniques to deactivate the triggers."
