“There’s a hook here for your robe, and you can just leave your slippers there. Any loose items go over here in this bowl,” she continued, explaining that she’d then send in Briar and he should lie face down.
Tarr had been through all this before and knew what to do. She finally stepped out, and he shed his robe and hung it on the hook, practically dancing over to his massage table.
He’d spent plenty of his life with people watching him—millions through cameras—and he had to give interviews before and after his ride, but somehow he felt more self-conscious as he climbed under the blanket for his massage than he ever had in his life.
He got all settled, the heat from the table seeping into his bones and muscles and helping him relax. A moment later, a knock sounded on the door.
“Are you ready?” a woman asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” he called, and he kept his eyes closed, though the light was already dim.
As the attendants brought in Briar, her masseuse went through the same quick instructions and stepped out. Tarr’s pulse thundered through his body, making his circulation feel like a herd of wild mustangs stampeding across the plains.
Briar said nothing—not even to double-check with him to make sure he wouldn’t peek. He heard the soft swishing of fabric and then movement on the table only a few feet from his.It made a slight noise as she laid down, and then she sighed, finally.
“This feels great,” she whispered.
“I’m glad,” Tarr whispered back, because it felt like they definitely couldn’t talk louder than that in this room.
“Is your table heated?”
“Sure is.”
It seemed to take the attendants a long time to come back, but they finally did. The lights lowered even more, the music turned up slightly, and Tarr settled in for an amazing experience. As his massage therapist put both hands on his upper back and leaned into him, he felt her grounding him. He sighed out as she pressed her hands down his back, along his hips, and then came right back up to his neck. Only then did she pull the blanket back, and she repeated the motion, this time with his bare skin against her hands.
Tarr breathed in deeply when she told him to, the scent of eucalyptus and orange further relaxing him, and he could tell with the first stroke of his masseuse’s hands down his right side that he was going to feel amazing at the end of this.
A couple of hours later, he opened Briar’s door for her, and she climbed into his truck. He joined her and glanced over to her, then leaned over, reached past her, and opened the glove box.
“I know it’s still early,” he said. “And we’re gonna go by the build site, but I’d love for you to choose the dinner menu.” He held up the file folder, wiggled it back and forth, and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s your birthday menu,” he said.
She eyed him for a moment, then flipped it open. He’d handwritten the menu on a single sheet of paper that spanned front and back and explained the starter, main course, and dessert.
“Tarr,” she said. “How are you going to make all this in one day?”
“Oh, the starters are easy,” he said. “It’s chips and guacamole or baked potato soup.”
“I do love baked potato soup,” Briar said, her eyes scanning the sheet. That menu came with steak and roasted asparagus. The one with guacamole came with chicken and carne asada tacos, and the third choice was something not quite as elaborate but just as delicious—at least in Briar’s world—green salad and spaghetti and meatballs.
“The desserts are all birthday cake,” he said. “But there is an assortment of ice creams.”
“I think that’s for you, cowboy.” Briar grinned over at him and flipped the folder closed. “I think I want the soup and steak.”
Tarr took the menu back from her and tucked it down into the side of his door.
“Is that okay?” she asked.
“Of course it is.” He glanced over at her. “It’s your birthday, sweetheart. You can have anything you want.”
“I think we’ve proven that that’s not true,” she said. “Because I wanted a really relaxing massage, where a certain someone wasn’t snoring next to me.”
Tarr scoffed and put the truck in reverse to pull out of the parking spot. “I was not snoring.”
Briar continued to giggle. “Yes, you were. Both of the masseuses even said so.”
