by Ashlee Price
“I’m sure your dog would have saved you if I hadn’t,” Dani adds.
“I doubt it.” I pet Vinny.
He seems to like her, too. He hasn’t taken his eyes off her yet, and I swear I can see a bit of drool coming out of that huge mouth of his.
“Vinny may be big, but he’s a gentle giant. He wouldn’t harm a fly.”
“Is that right?”
She reaches out to scratch Vinny behind the ears and he closes his eyes.
A dog lover. Another bonus.
“Do you have a dog?” I ask her.
“No.” She tucks her hand back inside the pocket of her sweater. “My sister’s allergic.”
“Oh. So you live with your sister?”
“Yes.”
“In this neighborhood?”
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “Not anywhere as fancy. What about you? Do you live here?”
“I…”
“Wait. Before you answer that, why don’t you tell me your name first?”
My eyebrows furrow. She doesn’t know who I am? Even though I’m not wearing any sunglasses?
That may be the biggest plus of all.
“Reed,” I lie.
Well, it’s not exactly a lie. Reed used to be my screen name, though I go by my real name, Reilly, now.
“You mean like a blade of grass?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“So do you live here?”
I hesitate but tell the truth. “I do.”
“I see.” She nods. “Alone?”
“With my mother.”
“Cool.”
I throw her a puzzled look. “Most girls I meet turn around and walk away after they find out I’m living with my mother.”
“Well, I guess I’m not most girls.” Dani shrugs. “Besides, if my mother was still alive, I’d live with her, too.”
I frown. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago. And I still have my sister, who’s so much like my mother it’s almost like she never left.”
“You sound like you and your sister are very close.”
“Joined at the hip,” she admits. “What about you? Any siblings?”
I chuckle. “None.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why are you laughing?”
“It’s just that we’ve only just met, and yet this isn’t exactly small talk, is it?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No. It’s just…” I scratch my nape. “I’m really enjoying this conversation.”
“You are?”
I nod. After all, the only conversations I’ve been having lately are with my mom and my manager. As for interviews, those don’t really count.
“It’s good to be able to really talk to someone,” I tell her.
“Yeah,” Dani agrees with a smile. “I’ve never found it this easy to talk to a stranger, either. Are you sure we haven’t met before?”
“I’m sure.” I take a step forward as I look into her eyes. “I don’t think I could forget meeting someone like you.”
She purses her lips and looks away, her cheeks a little pinker than before.
I have the urge to stroke that cheek, but suddenly my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I take it out and look at the screen, which reminds me that my yoga class is in half an hour. I also remember that I have a new instructor starting today, what with Melanie’s sudden departure. What was her name again? I can’t remember, but I have to be home in case she shows up early.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Dani. “But I have to go.”
“That’s okay.” She looks at her watch. “I have work to do, too, in a bit.”
I put my phone back in my pocket. “Will I see you around?”
“Maybe.” She pats Vinny. “Bye, Vinny.”
She gives me another smile. “Bye, Reed.”
“See you.”
Reluctantly, I jog off, a seemingly even more reluctant Vinny in tow. I wish I could stay, but I haven’t missed a yoga class since I started.
I stroke Vinny’s head. “We’ll just have to hope we see her again soon, buddy.”
~
“I’ll see you later,” my mother says as she stops by the living room to kiss the top of my head. “I’m having brunch with Amanda.”
I put the newspaper down on the coffee table. “Enjoy.”
“I will if Amanda tries not to talk too much.”
She puts on her butterfly sunglasses and walks away, swaying her hips to and fro. The wide legs of her black and ivory jumpsuit billow around her long legs.
Even after all these years, she still dresses and walks like the runway model she used to be.
Alone, I sit back on the couch and glance at the clock. Just a few more minutes and the new instructor will be here.
Finally, our fifty year-old butler, Stuart, marches in. “Mr. Evans, the new yoga instructor is here.”
“Show her in,” I tell him.
He nods and leaves the room. A few moments later, he reappears with a woman.
“Good mor…”
She stops, her jaw dropping as her eyes meet my own wide ones.
“Dani?” I blink. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m the new yoga instructor,” she tells me. “Wait. You’re my new client?”
I shrug. “What did I say? The best things are those that happen unexpectedly.”
“Wow.” She places her hand on her chest. “I didn’t take you for someone who does yoga.”
I walk towards her. “I didn’t take you for a yoga instructor, though maybe I should have because of the leggings.”
I eye the pair she’s wearing—black leggings with white spirals—and she glances down at them.
“How long have you been teaching?”
“Almost three years now. How long have you been doing yoga?”
“Close to four years,” I answer.
“Really?” Her eyes narrow. “May I ask why?”
I grin. “I get that question a lot. And the answer is simple. It helps me stay fit. It helps me focus and stay positive. I guess it just makes me a better person.”
Besides, it used to help me with my dance moves back when I was still working in theater. I decide not to mention that for now.
“I see. That’s good.” She glances around. “Where’s your mother?”
“She just left a few minutes ago.”
“So we’re alone?”
“Not if you count Stuart, but he usually stays out of the way.”
She nods. “Where’s Vinny?”
“In the backyard, probably sleeping.”
She gives another nod. “So shall we begin?”
I take the mat from under her arm and offer her my hand. “Follow me.”
~
“Namaste,” I tell Dani with a bow at the end of the session an hour later.
“Namaste.” She bows in turn then sits on her mat.
Grabbing her backpack, she gets her water bottle and drinks.
I watch her. I’ve been watching her throughout the session, which is why I haven’t been as focused as I normally am, though I tried to be.
She’s as good as Melanie, if not better. Her moves are graceful, her poses precise. Then there’s the fact that she looks hot in those leggings and that yoga top with all the strings. I love how it leaves her shoulders and her flat abdomen bare to my gaze and draws attention to her firm breasts.
She must have felt me looking at them—most women do—because she puts down her bottle and puts her sweater back on. I turn away with a sheepish grin.
“So is it as good as when Melanie does it?” she asks me.
I turn back to her. “Yeah. You’re good.”
“Thanks. You were great, too. You’re really dedicated to this, and it shows.”
I wipe my face with the towel around my neck. “What do you do apart from yoga?”
“Not much.” She takes another sip from her bottle. “I help my sister watch over
my niece and nephew, I guess, since she’s a single mom.”
“How old are they?”
“Zoe is eight and Zeke is six.”
“They’re lucky to have you,” I tell her.
Dani narrows her eyes at me. “You can tell I spoil them?”
“Yes.”
She chuckles. “Yeah. Their mother thinks so, too. She used to dissuade me from it, but not anymore.”
“Something tells me you’re not easily dissuaded.”
“Nope,” she admits.
I walk over to her. “But are you easily persuaded?”
“I guess it depends on what you’re trying to persuade me on.”
“What about dinner?”
Her eyebrows furrow. “Are you asking me out?”
“Heavens, no.” I sit beside her on her pale green mat. “I just want to be acquainted with my new teacher and to repay the woman who saved my life.”
She shakes her head. “You really don’t have to.”
“I’d like to.” I lean on an arm and look into her eyes. “Have dinner with me.”
“Wow.” She looks away. “Melanie didn’t say anything about you being so persuasive.”
I crease my eyebrows. “What did she say about me?”
She purses her lips.
I sit up straight. “Oh, you’re not telling me, are you?”
She just looks at the ceiling.
I tickle her.
“Fine,” she says as she bursts out laughing in the middle of feebly fending me off. “I’ll tell.”
I stop and she sits up. “She just said you’re sweet. And a gentleman.”
“And you think she’s lying?”
“I didn’t say that.” She turns her head. “Are you really that desperate for someone to talk to?”
I grin. “You have no idea.”
For a moment, Dani falls silent, sitting still. Then she gets a pen from the pocket of her backpack.
“Give me your hand,” she asks me.
I obey and she scribbles something on my hand. When I get it back, I realize she’s written her phone number on my palm.
“Let me know where we’re having dinner,” Dani says.
“And to think I wanted to punch myself for not getting your number earlier.” I give her a smile. “See you at eight.”
Chapter Three
Dani
“So I’m going to be home a little late tonight,” I tell Cora on the phone as I sit behind the wheel of my Camry. “Will you be okay?”
“I’m your older sister, Dani,” she answers. “I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you. Are you sure you want to go on a date so soon after how that last one went?”
I tap my hands on the wheel. “First of all, it’s not a date. It’s just a conversation over dinner.”
“Yeah, and acupuncture is just sticking a bunch of needles into someone’s skin.”
“Second, he’s not like the last guy I dated.”
“I believe you said that about the one before, and the one before that,” she reminds me.
I frown. “Well, he’s not like any of the other guys I’ve dated.”
“How so?”
“He’s sweet. He’s funny.”
“And he wasn’t looking at your boobs?”
I roll my eyes. “Well, he was, but… I didn’t say he’s a saint, okay? He’s a man, a nice man.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to lose your virginity to this guy?”
I look out the window. “Well, maybe he’s that nice.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s not like I’m deliberately hanging on to my virginity or saving it for the one. I’m just looking for someone worth losing it to.”
“And you think this Reed is the one even though you’ve just met him?”
“Hey.” I sit up. “It’s not like I’m saying I’m sleeping with him tonight.”
“But you want to.”
“I don’t know, okay? We’ll just go with the flow.” I glance at my watch. “I have to go. I’m getting a bit hungry so I’ll grab an early lunch and then see my next client at two.”
“Are you going to go out with him, too?” Cora asks.
“Very funny. Bye, Cora. Love you.”
“Love you.”
I hang up and toss my phone onto the passenger seat where my backpack is. I pick it up again a moment later, though, when it buzzes. My heart skips as the new message informs me where I’m having dinner with Reed.
I rub my lips together, then smile at the rearview mirror.
I can’t believe I’m going out to dinner with him. I understand what Cora is saying, but I just have a good feeling about this, about him. The last few men I went out with weren’t even interested in a conversation. At least Reed is. He seems genuinely interested in me and I can’t say I don’t feel the same.
For once, I’ve found a guy I can connect with.
I can’t let myself be distracted by the prospect of dinner, though. I still have one more client for today, and I have to impress this one as much as I did the last.
I open the glove compartment and take out the notes that I printed from Melanie’s email. According to them, my next client lives on Ascott Drive and he’s ‘a little eccentric, clumsy and awkward with poses but doesn’t like to be touched’.
Okay.
The notes also say I have to let myself in using the codes to the house that she sent me over the phone and that I should go straight to the meditation room, which is on the first floor, at the end of the hall on the left side of the stairs past the bamboo curtain.
I fold the sheet of paper and toss it back into the glove compartment.
It’s finding one house that matches the exact address on the paper, letting myself in with a bunch of numbers and getting to one room at the end of a hall. How hard can it be?
~
Easy, I think as I let myself inside the house and close the door behind me.
Too easy, in fact. Isn’t he worried someone might break in and steal stuff? There seems to be a lot of stuff to steal, too.
The first thing I notice are the suits of armor against the wall—a shiny one of a medieval knight with a jousting lance and a red and black one of a samurai warrior, complete with a sword.
I touch my chin. Well, not your typical hallway decor, to be sure, but Melanie did say this client had unusual tastes.
The door between them is slightly open and I can’t resist taking a peek. My eyes grow wide as I see racks of costumes that must have come straight from movie sets. And that’s not all. On the table are what look like props—a water canteen, a walking cane, a crystal ball, a few masks…
My interest piqued, I step inside to take a closer look.
I go through the pile, grinning when I see the vintage perfume atomizer with a tasseled bulb just like my grandmother used to have.
A maroon velvet cloak from the rack catches my attention and I run my fingers across the luxurious fabric. I consider putting it on in front of the gilded, full-length mirror in the corner, but then something else catches my eye—the open door leading to the next room.
Here, I see locked shelves stuffed with comic books. DC. Marvel. Japanese ones. Even through the glass doors, I can see that they’re wrapped in several sheets of plastic and organized according to series and date released.
A prized collection, which again makes me wonder why the security seems so lax. At the very least, my client should get a dog.
Remembering my client, I go back out into the hall, but something else draws my attention. This time, it’s a painting on the wall—and another, and another. I can’t recall seeing any of them before, so they can’t be famous, and yet they’re all masterfully done, each a magnificent masterpiece. Not only do the strokes seem precise but each painting seems to have a story behind it, evoking an array of emotions and sending the wheels in my head turning.
One painting in particular, which depicts an angel with just one wing dangling on a rope over a cliff, a
sea of beasts below her, makes me pause with eyebrows furrowed. What does it mean? And what is that expression on the angel’s face, exactly as if she knows something no one else does?
Unable to find the answers, I give up. I turn my head and I see the bamboo curtain just ahead of me.
Oh, it seems I’ve found my way after all.
Carefully, I walk past it. The bamboo rustles to announce my presence and I pause to listen for other sounds. I hear none. My client must still be busy upstairs or outside. After all, I am a little early.
I approach the only door beyond the curtain. This, too, is slightly open, even more slightly than the first one up the hall. I grab the knob and push it. My eyes grow wide again at my discovery.
This time, I discover a room with walls painted in Japanese murals, round silk lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and a perfect bonsai tree sitting in a pot in a corner. There’s a tiny pool in the middle, like a tub built into the floor. Steam is rising from it, and beyond that veil of steam, I see a man with dark hair and pale skin soaked in the water up to his shoulders. His eyes are closed, his ears fitted with plugs connected to a phone on a stand.
Wait. A man?
I quickly retreat, but my elbow hits the potted bamboo by the door. The knob slips from my hand and the door opens wide. So do the eyes of the man in the tub.
Startled, he stands up, an ear plug falling into the water. As my eyes follow it, I notice that the water now only reaches up to his thighs, and then my gaze falls on the most unexpected discovery of all.
Above the water, I can see a thick shaft of flesh hanging between his legs over his smooth sack, not a curl of hair in sight.
My cheeks burn, even more so when my eyes meet his shocked brown ones.
I turn around and run, not stopping until I reach my car. I drive off and only after going around the next corner do I stop to catch my breath as I grip the wheel.
What on earth just happened?
I know. I mistook my right for my left and I ended up barging into a room where a man was taking a bath naked, because of course, people take their baths naked.
The worst part is I’m pretty sure that man was supposed to be my client.
“Shit,” I say as I slap my forehead.
What was I doing? And what do I do now? Do I go back in there and apologize?
I shake my head. I don’t think I can do that. I can’t face him when my face is all red and my heart is racing a hundred miles an hour. Not to mention when the sight of his… um, crotch, is still embedded in my mind.
