Please just let me pay you. At least if there’s money involved, it’s a straightforward transaction.
I open my mouth toinsist, but before I can say a word, he says, “I need to get going. I have another job to get to.” He smiles, and despite being wired, I automatically return a polite smile of my own. “Hopefully, it doesn’t act up again, but if it does, call the maintenance number. We’ll get you sorted.”
“Will do.” It comes out as a squeak. “Th-thank you.”
Another glance I can’t read, but thankfully, he leaves right after. Once he closes the door behind him, I flip the deadbolt and collapse onto my couch with haggard breathing.
That should not have been as stressful as it was. At twenty-two years old, and after three years of living on my own, a regular service call like that shouldn’t be making me hyperventilate.
I jump when my phone pings with a message. It’s Amara’s notification sound, and I know what’s in the text before I even check it.
Amara: Date number three with Mr. UFC tonight. I’d say check in with me afterwards, but it looks like things have been going well.
The reminder of my date with Nico brings a wave of relief. I try to tell myself it’s only because it’ll be the first male interaction today where I know exactly what I’m getting out of it,but I’m not as convincing as I should be. I know it’s because it’sNicoI’m meeting.
Looking toward my bedroom, I debate taking that bubble bath to scrub the nerves from my skin. But I can’t get the sight of that guy in my bathroom out of my head, so that effectively scraps that idea. I’ll probably have to bleach the entire bathroom before I can use the tub again.
I glance toward my treadmill.
Guess I’m sweating it out instead.
Five hours later, I’m knocking on Nico’s hotel room door.
The moment it swings open, every ounce of tension leaves my body.
“Hi,” I whisper, almost shyly.
His smile is sweet and genuine and better than I deserve.
“Hey, Red.”
He steps aside and gestures me in. It occurs to me that he never touches me when I walk by him. Actually, he doesn’t touch me untilIinitiate it.
“How are you?” I ask, pulling off my thin cardigan. I’m wearing a thin blue dress, more casual than usual for a client. But when I spin and see a look of awe cross Nico’s face, I know I made the right call.
“Uh, good,” he says, his gaze snapping back to my face. “Good. How are you?”
I sink onto the couch with a smile. “I’m great.”
I’m not even lying.
“Did you train today?” I ask him.
He nods and takes a seat on the chair beside the couch. “I got two sessions in today. So if I seem a little tired, that’s why.”
“We could’ve postponed,” I offer. Though I hate the idea. “You shouldn’t have to be tired when you see me.”
His lip quirks. “Red, I’malwaystired. And besides, I didn’t want to go another week without seeing you.”
Why does my stomach flutter at that when, coming from any other client, it would turn me off?
“Would it help if I gave you a massage?” I ask. Partly because it’s an obvious way to flirt, but also because I’d really like to touch him.
He shakes his head with a smile. “Honestly, I’d rather giveyoua massage. You look tense. Is everything…okay?”
It should alarm me that he can see me so well. But instead of shaking him off with a lie, I find myself telling the truth.
“It’s better now.”
