“Walk me up. I’ll give you some essential oil to help calm you tonight so you can get a good night’s sleep.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” His gaze moves down to my mouth, and he licks his lips as if he wants to taste me.
Knowing I can’t push this right now, I get out of the car and unlock the door to the bakery. I’m entering the security code as I hear his car alarm bleep, and he follows behind me. Once he’s in, I reset the alarm.
“Come on. It’s through the kitchen and up the back. If we’d gone through the back, we wouldn’t have to walk through the bakery and kitchen, but I don’t like to go through the alleyway at night.”
He places his hand on the back of my dress, keeping me close as I walk through the empty bakery. “Good plan.”
I nod and make my way up the stairs toward my place.
“Jesus,” Grant growls.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s just your perfect fucking ass swaying as you walk up the stairs is like waving a red flag at a bull. Next time, I walk in front of you.” He sounds annoyed.
I giggle, thinking about our positions reversed. “Then I would drool over your ass,” I state as I reach the landing.
I unlock my door, flick on the lights, and enter my apartment.
Grant stops in the center of the room and spins in a slow circle. “You live in a shoebox.” He scowls.
“What! This is huge.” I toss my purse on the small island counter.
“Lamb…baby, it’s not.” His voice is low and strained.
“Yes, it is. It’s three times the size of my last apartment, and it’s a loft.”
“Yeah, which means your bed is in your living room.” He glances at my queen-size mattress. The down comforter is fluffy and white. Throw pillows in pretty teal and royal blue and magenta give the bed some pizzazz. The rest of the space is open. I have a small love seat facing an armoire, where I’ve got my TV and stereo. Plants dot the space, giving the room an earthy garden feel.
“Well, I love it. Don’t be snobby.”
Grant scowls as he looks around but brings his hand up to his head, pressing his thumb and finger into his temples.
“Headache?”
He nods curtly. “I should go.”
“Not if you’re in pain and I can help. Take off your jacket, roll up your sleeves, and go lie on my bed.”
He lifts his eyebrows in question.
“Relax, big man. Nothing’s going to happen. Well, something’s going to happen. Me taking away your headache.”
Grant looks around the room and puts a hand to his waist as if he’s making a decision. Eventually he comes to the right one and shrugs off his suit coat, removes his tie, and sets them over the back of the love seat. He unbuttons a few top buttons, removes his cufflinks, and rolls up his sleeves.
When I see he’s doing as I directed, I go over to my essential oil collection and grab the nighttime blend I created. It has a touch of peppermint, lavender, rosemary, and eucalyptus mixed together to create what I consider is the perfect essential blend for nighttime relaxation.
Before I go over to the bed, I hit the restroom and change into my camisole and bed shorts to get more comfortable. When I return, Grant is down to his undershirt, slacks, and socks with the bedspread pulled back and his head on my pillow.
My goodness he looks beautiful lying on my sheets, his big body spread out on my bed.
Chapter Six
Due to its location on the body, the crown chakra is primarily associated with the brain and the entire nervous system. If the chakra is blocked, a person may tend to have headaches, migraines, or a multitude of head, neck, and nervous system issues.
LUNA
“You ready to be wowed?” I ask, padding on bare feet to the bed where he lies.
“I will rescind my initial statement about your apartment. Your bed is fucking fantastic. What am I lying on?” He shifts his legs and wiggles his bum.
“Four inches of high-quality memory foam. Kind of like a Tempur-Pedic only a boatload cheaper.”
He pushes his fingers into the bed and watches them sink. “It’s freakin’ amazing. Seriously, I need to get this for my bed at home.”
I grin. “I’ll make sure to send you a link to what I purchased online. Now lift your upper body and scoot a bit farther down the bed.”
“Why?” He frowns.
“Just do what I say. For once in your life, allow yourself to give up control,” I snip smartly but still playfully.
He gives an exaggerated sigh but lifts up and scoots lower on the bed. I slip in behind him with my bottle of oil in hand and cross my legs.
“Lie back and put your head in my lap.”
“Kinky.” He smirks.
I roll my eyes and grip his head, putting him where I want him. “Now relax.” I remove the cap, pour some oil into my hands, and rub them together. The scent floats in the air around us, and I can see his chest rising as he inhales the soothing fragrance.
“Smells good,” he murmurs, fluttering his eyes closed.
“Thank you.” I press my finger just above his upper lip and under his nostrils, wiping a drop of oil there so he can smell it directly. “Breathe in long and deep, letting the air fill your lungs completely. When you get to the top of the breath, hold it in for a few seconds and then slowly let the air out your mouth. Continue to do this until I tell you to stop.”
Grant breathes in, doing exactly what I said. Such a good student. Apparently he can listen to someone other than himself.
I run my oil-covered hands around Grant’s neck, working the muscles with my thumbs. His breath falters as I find a sizable knot and massage it out. “Keep breathing in fully and then out at the top of the breath,” I remind him, and he follows along.
Once the knot is out, I turn his head to the left and work the length of his neck, running my fingers through the sides of his hair, to the crown of his head, and back down. I circle my thumbs around the occipital lobes at the base of skull where his head and neck meet, removing any tension I find there.
Grant sighs and grunts a little when I press my thumbs into the tightness at his trapezoids, easing the muscles, loosening the grip stress has on his body. Turning his head to the right, I repeat the process on the other side before massaging his whole head.
“Your hands work miracles,” Grant compliments. He flickers his eyes open, looking hazy and tired.
I smile, lean down, and kiss his forehead. “I’m not done. Close your eyes and relax. Don’t allow the tension to creep back in. Just enjoy.”
I slide my fingers through his thick, silky hair and run the pads of my fingers lightly down the lines of his scalp. I can tell when a person is super tense because there is no give in their scalp. Right now, he has no give, so I work my fingers in long lines, giving more pressure than I would during Savasana at the end of one of my yoga classes because this is more personal, private. A woman relaxing her man at the end of a hard day.
Those thoughts of him being my man start to swirl in my mind again as I circle my fingers around his hairline and back through his hair in long strokes. His breathing is deepening, so I move the tips of my fingers along his forehead and apply pressure down the bridge of his nose, around his eye sockets, and along the side of his cheeks until I get to his temples. Sometimes when I touch the temples first, they are too tender. Usually after I’ve relaxed the rest of the person’s head or body, the temples aren’t so sensitive.
His lips puff open as I massage his face and head. He’s truly a striking man, though I worry about the dark circles under his eyes. He needs rest. Real sleep, free of worry and stress. As I touch him soothingly, I imagine what it would be like to have this man in my life every day and not just for six months.
He’d come home from a long day at the office, I’d make him dinner, listen to him talk about his day, and then set about creating a home where he wouldn’t have to feel stress. Everything around him would be uniquely crafted
to ease his tension. Soothing scents, healthy homemade food, my personal affection and care.
It seems so easy, yet I’m twenty-eight and haven’t found it yet. I think a lot of men I’ve dated in the past think what I do is unnecessary and frivolous, but I know with my whole heart I’m providing a much-needed service to people. Helping bodies and minds feel whole.
I love what I do and have never wanted to do anything else. Maybe my mother ingrained this trait in me during the years of watching her run the studio, but she’s one of the happiest and healthiest people I know. My father, on the other hand, was a businessman who worked himself to the bone. He always joked that my mother was his reward after a hard day’s work. He loved that she was always happy, down to earth, and excited when he came home. Until cancer took him away a few years ago, way too early at only fifty-five. They were beyond happy together. Now she’s committed to traveling the world with her best friend. She misses my father terribly, as do I, but she’s moving on and living her life.
Healthy and happy.
My father would want that for her and me. It’s what I want to find. A man who is willing to take on the brunt of the financial responsibility for our home and needs, have a family, and know when he ends his day he’ll have a wife waiting with open arms to greet, feed, and sprinkle love all over him. It may sound old-fashioned, but there isn’t any other life I could imagine being better.
My problem now is Lotus House. The more time I spend with Grant, the more I like him, and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to convince him not to destroy my family’s legacy, my livelihood and those of my friends, not to mention my apartment. The smart thing to do would be to renew my hunt for a new facility I can rent. Consider securing a new location for Lotus House. After a cursory look at the available buildings in the area, the possibility of renting a place big enough to offer four open rooms, two locker rooms, a reception area, and private yoga rooms for a decent rate is slim to none. It also has to be on one level or have an elevator. We insist on being ADA compliant, which means wheelchair access is mandatory.
I sigh and look down at the man who has the power to ruin my life and find he’s asleep. His mouth is open, and little snores are coming from his nose, the same way they were when he fell asleep in yoga class a few days ago. He was not kidding when he said he was wiped out. I imagine running a bazillion-dollar company is very stressful. It proves he needs a woman like me in his life to ease the tension. Relieve him of his stress and teach him how to relax.
Enjoying the time I can just look at him without his mouth getting in the way, I trace his features, running my finger down his long, straight nose. His cheekbones are high and cut. There’s a tiny bit of scruff coming in on his square jaw. As my hand floats over his cheek, he turns his head, rubbing against my palm the way a cat would. This tiny, effortless moment of affection rips through my chest and fills my heart with light.
I could so easily fall in love with this man.
Bracing his head straight, I lift it up enough that I can ease out and place his head on my pillow. I survey him. He’s resting so comfortably I make a split-second decision. I grab the comforter, pull it over his body, and tuck him in. Then I go to the other side of the bed, pull back the comforter, and slide in next to him. Feeling cold being a foot away, I snuggle up to his form, wrap an arm around his waist, and rest my head on his chest. His arm comes down and locks around me immediately, but he doesn’t wake. No, he instinctually curls around me in his sleep and unconsciously locks me to his side.
I smile and close my eyes, wondering what kind of shenanigans tomorrow will bring. All I know is, I hope they include Grant.
Juggling two steaming lattes and a bag of fresh warm pastries, I open the door to my apartment. Grant is sitting on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his mussed hair.
“Jesus Christ, I slept here all night?” he says, his tone not only surprised but edgy.
“Yeah.” I maneuver over to my small kitchenette and set the bag and coffees down on the table.
“What time is it?” He looks around my apartment for a clock.
“Just after eight.”
His eyes seem to bulge as he stands up abruptly. “Eight a.m.! Fucking hell!” He groans and looks around the room, my guess, trying to spot his stuff. I placed his shoes next to his dress shirt and jacket.
“Right there over by the couch. Your shoes are sitting there as well. I’ve got a latte and a pastry for you.”
Grant runs his hands down his face and grunts. “I can’t believe I overslept. I’m usually in the office by seven thirty and no later.”
I move into the kitchen and pull out a couple small plates and then take out the treats I selected. “Sounds like you needed the sleep.”
He nods. “Yeah, I guess I did. Haven’t slept that well in ages. And it’s been forever since I had a full eight hours sleep.”
This time my eyes widen as I take a seat at the table. “Really? Grant, your body needs the time to recuperate. Eight hours sleep is ideal for the human body to rest, and the mind needs the time to function properly. It’s probably why you conked out so quickly.”
He grabs his dress shirt, pulls it on, leaves it open, and walks over to me.
I hold out a latte toward him. “Here. Beauty in a cup.”
He caresses my fingers as he takes the latte. “Beauty holding a cup is more like it.” His eyes are smiling, but his mouth is still tight. I’ll take what I can get.
Grant scans my body. “You’re already dressed in your work attire?”
“Because I already taught a class this morning, big man.” I sip the vanilla goodness, lifting my feet up onto the chair’s edge.
His eyebrows rise up to his hairline and he sits. “You’ve already been up and taught a class?”
“Yep. First thing every Monday.”
He sips the drink and hums. “And you think my job sucks?” He laughs.
I nod. “Yeah, because at least everyone is happy to see me when they show up. They are ready to start their week off in a healthy frame of mind. They don’t spend a million meetings planning what company they are going to buy or bulldoze to make a buck.”
Grant’s jaw firms, and his face hardens into an emotionless mask. “That’s what you think I do all day? Bulldoze buildings.”
I purse my lips and decide to lay it out there. “All I know is you’re planning to bulldoze my building and my friends’ buildings in order to build luxury homes for a bunch of high-powered executives who really don’t need the space.”
“Yes…creating new buildings.” He stresses the creation part.
“Then why must you destroy before you build? Can you not think of a workaround? A compromise of sorts?”
He sighs and leans back heavily in the chair. “What you’re suggesting would cost millions or, worse, the loss of millions.”
I put my feet down and sit up straight in my chair. “What you’re suggesting would cost many their livelihoods and their jobs. I have four classes running almost every hour of the day, throughout most of the week. I employ almost twenty yoga teachers, all of whom would lose their jobs if I cannot find another location for my studio. Most of those teachers are struggling college students, single mothers, or people like me who teach yoga as their calling. Are their livelihoods not worth those millions?”
And that really is the question.
Grant stands up so fast the wooden chair falls to the floor with a crash.
“I gotta get out of here.” He tugs at his hair, turns, lifts the chair, and grabs his coat.
I nod and look down at my chocolate éclair, no longer hungry, when a warm palm curls around my neck.
Grant uses his thumb to lift my chin up. “Thank you for last night and for breakfast. I’m going to take it to go, if you don’t mind. I need to get to work…and think. Think about all of this.”
Hope springs eternal as I stare at his handsome face. “Thank you for showing me a great time.”
He leans down and
kisses me so softly I don’t even have the chance to taste the latte on his lips before he’s pulling away.
“Text me later and tell me what’s on for this week. It’s your turn, but leave the weekend open. I’m taking you out this weekend.”
I smile wide, the idea of going on another date with Grant making me ridiculously happy. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I nod.
Grant kisses my forehead and releases me to grab his shoes. He slips them on and ties them lightning fast. While he does this, I put the two treats I got him back into the bakery bag so he can take them to go.
I hold up the bag and open the door. “I’ll walk you out since the bakery is going to be busy and you’ll feel strange walking through the kitchen alone.”
He grins and follows me down the stairs.
Once we make it to the kitchen, I run into Mama Jackson. Oh no, this is not going to be good. Mama Jackson is Dara’s mother and the original owner of Sunflower Bakery. She still works the store whenever she feels like it, even though her daughter now owns it, and Mama Jackson does what Mama Jackson wants.
“Moonbeam!” Mama Jackson tugs me into her arms for a big, cuddly hug. Vanessa Jackson is not a small woman by any means, but she holds her weight well and uses it to make her hugs the best ever.
“Child, how you doin’?” She pulls me back and cups my face. Her dark skin looks stark against my super white tone.
“I’m good, Mama Jackson. Uh, this is my friend, Grant.” I hook a finger behind me.
Her pitch-black eyes go over my shoulder to the man behind me. “Spent the night, I see. Hmm, didn’t know you were dating, Moonbeam.” She assesses Grant from top to toe. “Good-looking man. Hope you plan on calling my girl back later on once you’ve had a chance to relive the goodness you had with my Moonbeam here.”
Grant’s eyes widen, and he smiles. “I was a perfect gentleman last night, ma’am. I assure you.”
Enlightened End (Lotus House Book 7) Page 7
