“Just a few more to go,” Serge said as he stuck another needle in.
“I need to sneeze again.”
“Sorelaxed.”
“No, I think it’s the incense making me sneeze.”
He made a disgruntled sound. “It’s barely there. I don’t even smell it anymore. I was thinking of lighting another cone as a matter of fact.”
“Then you’re totally nose-blind because it keeps getting stronger. I think it’s burning the holder or something.” There was definitely an acrid smell beneath the sweet sandalwood odor.
Wren sneezed, clearing her sinuses. “Wait, that’s not the incense. That smells electrical.”
“Huh. I think you’re right.” Wren heard Serge walk over to check the incense. “But it’s not coming from here. Shit.”
Wren listened as he walked across the room and opened the door. She assumed he was checking the hall.
A claxon sounded, and there went all her hard-won serenity. Wrenhatedsudden loud noises and a fire alarm was the granddaddy of them all.
“Serge? Is everything all right? Should I…?” Wren lifted her head and looked toward the open door.
Her acupuncturist was nowhere in sight.
“He ditched me!”
Wren sat up and looked around. Her clothes sat in a heap on the chair where she’d left them. She jumped off the table, bringing the sheet with her, and headed for the door to close it. But pounding footsteps in the hall and shouts told her she did not have time to get dressed. And was that smoke? The electrical smell was getting stronger, and now it was mixed with other chemical smells.
What about the needles in my back?
She couldn’t very well slip her t-shirt on over those, could she? She reached back, trying to touch them and when her finger brushed against one, she got a horrible cringy feeling just thinking about trying to pull them out.
Just then someone stopped at the door. Thank God, Serge had not abandoned her. He could pull them out quickly.
Nope. Wasn’t Serge.
“You need to get out now,” some rando guy shouted into the room. “Break room’s on fire.”
“Shit!” After one last forlorn look at her clothes across the room, Wren grabbed her purse off the hook beside the door, slipped on her sandals, and awkwardly shuffled out of the room, trying to hold the sheet so it covered her front and her butt at least.
This is worse than a hospital gown. Thank God I didn’t take off my panties. And at least she’d worn the cute ones, not her ratty old period panties. Because everyone was about to get a show.
Wren coughed as she tried not to trip down the hall toward the exit. The smell was god-awful and the smoke harsh. Her hind brain amplified her fear and she forgot she was practically nakedas she started sprinting toward the open door and fresh air. Firefighters raced in past her but one stopped to escort her out. He almost put his hand on her back but stopped when he saw the needles there. She wasn’t sure, but she could almost swear she heard him chuckle behind his face shield thingy.
“This way, miss.” He hurried her to the exit, where the entirety of the building waited in the parking lot, facing the building. All eyes landed on her as she emerged. Looks turned from concern to humor when they got a good look at her.
Great. Wonderful. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Wren tried to wrap the sheet as best she could around her backside without turning and giving everyone a money shot. The least the firefighter could do was give her a hand, but he was already gone, back in the building actually doing something more important than protecting her modesty, she assumed.
All she wanted to do was make a dash for her car, but the idea of driving home withactual needles sticking out of her backgave her the oogies. She kept her backside turned away from the crowd as she inched her way over to the waist-high brick wall enclosing the lot.
She scanned the crowd for Serge, the asshole coward who’d left her there like a helpless and pathetic baby porcupine. Maybe he could quickly de-quill her and she could disappear forever and forget this ever happened.
No Serge anywhere. The bastard had bolted.
Just my luck.
No,thiswas just her luck—the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on was heading straight for her, and not with a lustful look in his eye but supreme detachment. He was wearing scrubs or some sort of scrubs-adjacent uniform—she was no expert—and coming from the direction of an ambulance parked behind a firetruck.
