“That’s not by chance a basketball under your shirt?” his voice slides through the air like velvet. I pat the top of Squirt.
“Not a football either.” I slide a sideways glance his way.
His hand didn’t feel presumptuous. Protective. It felt protective.
And I liked it.
Probably too much.
My back muscles have ached for two months now. I want him to dig his fingers in and loosen them. What else could those fingers do?
Pine trees line the path, creating an illusion of privacy. He clears his throat.
“I ah, suppose I owe you an apology?” It’s a question, but I’m not sure what he’s asking. “In my defense, you’re one hot pregnant chick. And–” He glances pointedly. “I didn’t see a ring.”
“A dangerous assumption. Not all married people wear rings.” Not that I wouldn’t. My own father hadn’t. He’d told my mom it irritated his skin. In truth, it had put a kink in his affairs.
“If you were mine, you’d be wearing a big fat diamond.”
The words, spoken by this man, turn my knees to jelly. It takes a few seconds, but I force myself to laugh. Such a charmer. A perpetual flirt. Except this is pity flirting. Like he would do with an old lady, or a child.
I straighten my spine beneath his hand. “What brings you to Whiskey Creek, Colt?” He’s not our typical guest. I’d expect somebody like him to go in for something more adventurous.
“Contractual obligation.” There’s a thread of steel in his voice when he answers. It warns me not to probe. Subject closed. He swings the conversation over to me. “You work here long?”
“Four years.” Finding this place had been a godsend. One semester of regular college had been enough for me. Too many people. Too much angst on campus. Massage therapy school had been a much better fit. I’d learned so much there. Not only anatomy and physiology stuff, but spiritual ideas. Concepts that applied to me.
I’d learned more about who I was.
We pass the path to cabin number two. “Can I schedule a massage for you tomorrow? Several of our guests have one daily.”
He grunts a little. And then his fingers start smoothing out the tight chords in my back. I’m tempted to stop walking, lean into him and moan in ecstasy.
I’ve got to get myself under control.
“You feel like you could use one.” His voice rumbles with suggestion. He’s good. Too damn good.
The butterflies flapping around inside me are impossible to ignore. Breathe, Charlie. Breathe. I set aside my own emotions and focus on absorbing his.
Immediately, I feel uncomfortable. Not for myself, but for him. He’s using the flirtation as a distraction.
“A lot of people feel lost when they first get up here. Like, ‘now what?’ They discover a giant vacuum where all their responsibilities were.”
In the midst of the attraction I feel, anxiety creeps in. Not sure if it’s him or me.
“If you stop by the office, I have some trail maps. A hike’s always a good way to wind down.” I mentally step away from the vibe I’m getting. So dark.
Ah, cabin number three. We turn off the main path onto a smaller one. “Chad should be here in a few minutes with your luggage. Feel free to text or call if you need anything. Anything at all.” It’s my standard line, but when I say it to this man the meaning feels different. I hand him my card and he glances down.
“Charlotte Richards, Guest Services and VIP Concierge.” He reads my card out loud but doesn’t say anything else.
“Charlie.” I correct him. My dad’s the only one who ever calls me Charlotte.
I hate it.
Colt doesn’t enter the cabin right away. He’s blocking my way. Just standing there with a thumb hooked through his belt loop. He looks like he’s gonna say something but then changes his mind. “Never had a VIP Concierge before.” A dimple appears by his chin when he smiles. Eyes the color of a stormy sky have me mesmerized. My neck feels hot. I swallow and nod.
“Ah… Well then.” I pick my way around him. Even going off the trail in an attempt to avoid touching him. “Enjoy your stay.”
