“I didn’t think I was that bad. Compared to other times I’ve been sick, I think I kept myself under control for the most part.” He’s calling that controlled? Oy.
“Logan, you needed liquid Advil …”
“So?”
“I think we should start over and pretend like this last week never happened. What do you say?” I offer.
“I say we do that after we figure out how to tear your ass apart.”
“Right.” I tried to forget my current predicament for a moment, but now I remember why I’m scooped up into this man’s cradling arms.
He curls me into his chest slowly, careful not to cause me any pain. “I really do like you,” he mutters quietly, under his breath.
With the snow falling around us and his warm body blocking out the frigid wind, I completely feel the exact same way. I’d tell him so but his lips are moving in toward mine, and I let my gaze linger on his face for an extra second, enjoying the sight of his dimples up close, noticing the faint freckles on his nose. As he moves closer to me, the scent of his spicy cologne mixed with the fresh snow forces my eyes closed just as his lips touch mine. He must have been chewing gum or had a mint recently because his breath is cool against me and strikes my lips with chills colder than the wind around us.
He’s a slow kisser and apparently likes to take his time moving from my top lip to the bottom, then covering all the parts in between. The tip of his tongue swirls around mine, leaving a cool sensation in its trail.
I’m lost in the moment, forgetting about everything else.
The connection between us is more than it’s ever been, more than I thought it was. I feel something deep inside that makes all the wrong seem right.
He hugs me to him a little tighter, and suddenly I know that I’d love to be his for as long as he’ll hang onto me. I’d even stay out in this cold snow in his arms with my ass cheeks glued together for an eternity, if life paused like this.
My heart thaws despite the opposing elements, and my pulse is erratic, speeding at a pace I haven’t felt in many years. Logan has brought me to a new place that I want to continue to exist in. I’m ready to feel the happiness I’ve avoided and yet missed, at the same time.
When he pulls away, I struggle to catch my missing breaths, and each one burns against the cold air surrounding us. With a light kiss on my nose and my forehead, Logan slides me into the truck and lowers the seat back a bit, so I’m in at an angle. “How’s that?” My senses are too overwhelmed for words right now, so I nod with a bashful smile.
I close my eyes throughout the short trip, trying to focus on something else, but the only thing I can think about is that kiss and the one from the other night. This man knows his way around a pair of lips, a talent I might have enjoyed later in other areas as well, but now I’ll probably have to wear a diaper or something—so much for a distraction.
The crunching of the snow beneath the truck’s tires becomes louder as we pull into the lot, and I tighten my fists, preparing for even the slightest jerk as we come to a stop. I’ve never thought about how much I use my butt muscles, but it’s a lot, which makes me wonder why I don’t have an ass of steel.
“I’ll help you out,” Logan says as he steps out of the truck. He’s halfway around the front of the hood when I watch him take a sharp left toward the front door of the spa, followed by his hands cupping over the glass door so he can look inside. He stands there for a few long seconds before twisting toward the truck and giving me a look of dread.
I know what the look says. It means they closed early because of the snowstorm, and I’m completely screwed. Shit! I’m leaving for Florida in less than eighteen hours. Logan makes his way back to the truck and releases a breath of exasperation as he closes his door. “Don’t worry. I think I know how we can fix this.”
“Hot water?” I question.
“No, that won’t help. Let me just run into the grocery store really quick.” Thankfully, the store is in the next plaza over, but I still don’t know how I’m going to manage to drive home. I can’t move my foot up and down over and over. It will kill me.
Logan is quick with his trip into the grocery store and returns with more than one bag, which makes me wonder what else he got, and if he needs multiple items to deal with this situation. Maybe he doesn’t have one solution, but a few to try. I’d rather go with a sure plan if that’s an option. Beggars can’t be choosers, though.
“What did you get?” I ask as he switches the gear into reverse. “Don’t worry. Just know I have a plan to take care of you, okay?”
I feel kind of sick right now. Are we ever going to get a chance to interact under normal circumstances? “What about my car?”
“It’ll be fine in the parking lot until we return at the end of the week. No one is going to tow it, and I’ve seen that a couple of cars in the lot haven’t moved since I started working there.” My instinct tells me it’s a bad idea to leave my car there, but my ass is saying something different.
The snow is coming down super hard too, and the van has never been great with more than a few inches on the roads. They may be plowing the main streets, but I’m sure the backroads and my neighborhood haven’t seen so much as a shovel yet.
It takes much longer than usual to get home, but I’m thankful for Logan’s four-wheel drive and skidding skills. We pull into the driveway, spotting Tiana in her yard with their stupid little dog. She’s wearing a fur coat, pink Uggs, and a Burberry scarf, with her hair loosely tussled up in a purposefully messy bun. I think I know her well enough to assume she has only fixed herself up today to take the dog outside in her “casual snow gear.”
“I don’t want them to know,” I tell Logan. I’m sure he already assumed, but I just want to make sure it’s at the forefront of his mind.
“Of course, I can understand that,” he says. “Let me help you, though.” He hops out of the truck, and I open my door at the same time, so I’m not acting like some priss who needs her door opened, as well as needing to be carried inside.
Logan helps me down into the snow, and I somehow need to figure out how to either lift my feet or use enough of my muscles to shuffle against the snow. “I can’t move,” I tell Logan, who’s waiting for me to walk ahead. He reaches into the truck and grabs the bags, then slides an arm around my back and opposite hip. He lifts me enough so it looks like I’m walking on top of the snow. If Tiana peers over, she’ll surely know something is up, though. Please don’t look over here.
We make it all the way to the front step before she turns around with her arms wrapped around her chest. “Oh, hi!” she shouts over. “Just taking Chicklette for a tinkle.” A tinkle. Who talks like that? I reach into my pocket for my key and unlock the front door, now staring at the one last step before we make it inside. Logan stands still for the moment, waiting to see if I make a move, but I don’t because I can’t figure out how to lift either of my legs without the tearing sensation resurrecting. “Is everything okay, Hannah?”
“She just sprained her ankle at work, she’ll be fine. Nothing a little ice can’t fix.”
“Oh no, I can look at it for you. I had to take first aid during my yoga certification class. Do you want me to look?”
“No!” we both shout at the same time. That doesn’t seem weird or obvious at all. “Thanks, though.” I don’t think our exasperated response was helpful because she’s looking at us like we’re lunatics. Whatever, it’s the same way I look at them all the time.
Finally inside, Logan closes the door and locks it, then helps me over to the living room couch. I haven’t spent so much time in this damn room in forever, and now I can’t seem to escape it. I don’t think I’ll ever have a good memory of this end of the house. “I’m mortified,” I tell him.
“My ex-wife had to put ointment on my ball sack scar for a month. While she did that, she curled her lip in disgust and touched it with a Q-tip as if she were touching a piece of dog shit. It was pretty much the highlight of my adult life,” he says, s
arcastically.
“Can you dim the lights first. I don’t even know what my ass looks like in broad daylight, and I don’t think I want you to know either.”
“Hannah, I can handle whatever it is, okay?”
“What are you using to … fix … this?”
“Warm coconut oil,” he answers. So normally, I would think that sounds amazing, and kind of sexy hot as well, but I’m sure this occasion will ruin the idea of hot oil for me.
“Just lie down on your stomach and try to relax.”
The last time I heard that I slapped Rick’s dick. That went over as well as this is probably going to go.
Chapter Twenty-five
There is no coming back from this …
“Is it hot?” I ask him while he’s preparing the oil.
“Not scalding, but very warm,” he responds.
“Is it going to hurt?”
“You’ve given birth. I think you’ll be okay,” he continues.
Logan slides a towel beneath me since I’m on the couch. “All right, I’m going to slide your jeans down,” he explains.
“Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t talk like you’re a doctor.”
“I’m sorry.” He clears his throat. “Hey baby, I’m about to rip these nasty pants off of that sweet ass. Now, don’t go putting up a fight about it or I’ll have to get rough, and you don’t want that, do you?” His voice is low, guttural, and raunchy as hell.
“Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t turn me on right now, either.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He clears his voice again. “I should probably just not say anything then.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” I place my face in the crook of my folded arms and close my eyes in hopes of daydreaming about another place and time.
Then, I feel the warm, satisfying oil coat my butt cheeks. I imagined this feeling a lot worse, but I’m also sure the worst of it isn’t over yet.
“For the record, you have a hot as hell ass, even with it glued together,” Logan whispers into my ear. His words are like the tip of a feather, sending shivers down my spine, which I shouldn’t be thinking about. I find myself feeling a strange mixture of embarrassment, gratitude, and arousal.
The palms of his hands connect with my bare, overly sensitive skin, and I flinch. “I’m going to massage the oil in so it breaks the wax apart. Try to hold still.” His voice is in its normal gruffness, which is still not making this easier, but I can’t tell him to stop talking again. He’s helping me in a way that I wouldn’t have been helped today if he didn’t volunteer.
There isn’t any pain like I’d been expecting, or feeling for that matter, but there’s a crackling sensation, which I think is a good thing.
“It’s starting to work,” he says.
“It is?” My excitement is muffled by my sleeve, but I hope he’s not blowing smoke up my—yeah, that’s not happening.
“I need a little more oil.” Oh, for the love of shit. All the muscles in my frontal region are tight and throbbing. I can’t be getting excited about this. I should just be thankful it’s working.
More oil drips slowly down the crevice, and his finger follows. My breaths quicken and my chest uncontrollably heaves up and down. It’s obvious enough that he can’t ignore what he’s doing to me.
His fingers continue to massage the affected area, working his way into the dent he’s slowing melting. Logan climbs over me and straddles my body as he continues working the wax in, and I’m doing everything in my power to keep my body from moving on its own or wavering against his hands.
“I’m so close,” he tells me in a honeyed voice. “Almost there.”
“Me too,” I mistakenly blurt out.
Oh crap. That was out loud.
He laughs quietly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I need to clean you up a bit, but then you should be as good as new.”
“Seriously? It’s gone?”
“Juuuuust about.” He runs off to the kitchen and the cool breeze from his motion makes me want to pull a blanket over my backside, but I’m still scared to move.
Refusing to look up from my arms, the shuffling footsteps return, and a new wind with the scent of his cologne fills the air around me.
A warm cloth is pressed into the crevices and dabbed along every square inch of my rear. Nothing hotter than being wiped by a deliciously hot man who was once interested in me before this shitty situation.
“You’re clean.”
No, I. Am. Not.
He slides my jeans back up to where they belong and runs his hand soothingly along my back. “Feel better?”
“Yes, but humiliated. However, that seems to be our thing.”
“We have a thing. That’s better than nothing, right?”
“It is.” I push myself up, testing out the use of my ass, and it’s like nothing ever happened, except the slightly raw burn from the wax. Everything seems to have calmed down, and I feel much better. “I don’t think we’ll ever be able to look at each other normally again.” I’m saying this more on his behalf than mine. I know he’s embarrassed about his situation, but I didn’t have to wipe his ass.
“Probably,” he says. This sucks. I had hope. I shouldn’t have had hope. I knew Logan was a long shot for me. I’m not his type. I’m washed up, not-so-perfect, and busy caring for a daughter. I’m sticking with my thoughts that he could have any woman he wants, even with a flat tire.
He presses his hands into his knee and stands up, letting out a slight groan. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, my back sucks. I’m fine, though.”
“I’ve heard athletes’ bodies hate them after they quit playing.”
“Whoever you heard that from was right.”
“Maybe you should still be playing,” I suggest.
He laughs like I told a good joke, but I was serious. “That’s funny. I’m thirty-five. Even if I didn’t have my accident, I wouldn’t be playing for much longer anyway. Getting back into it now would take too long, and I don’t have enough time left to get back to the place I was at.”
“Do you still love it?” I ask.
“Always.”
“You should coach, then. Do that instead of temping at a woman’s magazine.”
He presses his hands into the small of his back and leans into them. “Are you firing me, boss?”
“No, but you’re meant for better things in this world.”
“So are you, you know?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Right. I don’t even know what I’m capable of besides changing a diaper, cleaning up vomit, and packing a lunch. My job is mindless, and I’m surrounded by a whole lot of stupidity, as you witnessed today.”
“What’s your dream, Hannah?”
I lean into the couch and release a long exhale, remembering back to about a year ago when the only thing I wanted to do was lock myself inside, homeschool Cora, and have everything delivered to my house. While I know that’s not a permanent solution to anyone’s life, it would be nice for just a week.
“Don’t laugh.”
“Never,” he agrees with a grin.
“I want to lock myself inside this house, make it look like no one’s home, and hide from the world. I want to sit in yoga pants all day, eat what I want, and watch as much TV as humanly possible.”
Logan takes a seat next to me on the couch. “That does sound like a dream come true, but that won’t keep you happy forever. Trust me. You’ll be bored in a week. I tried it.”
“Then, just a week of quiet and solitude would satisfy my desire.”
“Sounds good, Hannah.” Logan stands up and grabs his coat off the reclining chair in the corner. “I have to get going. I forgot a few things I need for the trip tomorrow.”
My heart pounds angrily against my ribcage as I come to the unfortunate realization that I truly scared him away. How could I not have? How did it take this long? “Right, yeah, the trip.” I’m not asking him if
he’s coming back. I don’t want to know.
He finds the remote under his coat and turns on the TV for me. “Here, relax for a bit before Cora comes home.”
“Thanks, but I have to finish up my work.”
“Right.” Logan has this switch. Things are great, and then they’re gone. I don’t get it.
He slips his coat on and waves at me before heading for the door. A wave.
He kissed me just an hour ago, and now I’m getting a wave.
“See ya,” I tell him, trying not to sound completely heartbroken.
When the door closes, my mind goes back to the place that tells me I need to get the hell out of this miserable state and far away from everything I’ve ever known before, but it takes less than a second to remember Cora is my permanent anchor to this area.
While I don’t need to be living in this house or next door to Rick, going much further won’t do anyone any good. I’m stuck because of that man, and it’s the worst feeling in the entire world.
I grab the blanket from the top of the couch and wrap it around myself, hugging it tightly to release some of the tension in my chest. Tears threaten the corners of my eyes, and I know once they start, they won’t stop. My eyes are like two bottles of Champagne ready to explode, and it’s been that way for a year since I told myself I was no longer allowed to feel sorry for myself.
I need to rally, get my shit done for tomorrow, pack, and move on with my life. It is what it is. I chose this path, and now I need to live with it. Alone.
I stand up, feeling only a slight ache in the muscles that were clenched for way too long. At least I can avoid squats for a couple of weeks after that workout.
I turn the TV on to the music station and crank up the volume to the loudest setting. I have two hours before Cora comes home, and I’m getting everything done.
I head through the foyer toward the stairs, and the front door flies open, scaring the shit out of me, which isn’t funny because that unfortunate situation wouldn’t surprise me at this point. Logan is standing on the front mat, covered in snow, looking like a hot, grizzly mountain man. “Did you forget something?” My voice is less than enthusiastic, but I don’t know how I should sound right now.
Man Flu Page 21
