AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nothing,” I insist, as usual. Even if something is wrong, I’m not big on sharing. There’s always someone dealing with something much worse than me, so what’s the point of complaining?
His eyes narrow just a bit, and softly, he instructs, “Try again.”
I paste on a smile. “I’m just tired. My shoulders tend to get a little sore at the end of a long shift,” I reply with an uncomfortable shrug.
“That’s why you keep tensing and shifting in your seat,” he deduces, turning toward me. “Face the wall.”
“What?” I ask, confused as to what he’s asking.
“The wall. Face it.”
I slowly turn, trying to figure out why he’s instructing me to do this, when I feel his big, warm hands wrap around my shoulders and squeeze. “Holy shit,” I whisper, gasping as a mix of pleasure and pain moves through me.
His chuckles hit my ears at the same time his warm breath tickles the back of my neck. Using his hands, he gently massages my muscles, kneading the knots until they slowly release and relax. My eyes are closed, and my head has fallen forward as the pure magic of his hands washes over me.
“You’re really tense and tight,” he murmurs softly in his sexy, deep timbre that makes my core clench with need.
“That happens,” I whisper, hoping my voice isn’t as raw and gravelly as it feels.
“Well, you need more massages. Any time you want my hands, just let me know.”
My mouth goes Sahara dry.
Any time you want my hands…
If he only knew.
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
I’m pulled out of my thoughts and slowly turn to face my son, who’s sliding back into the booth. “Nothing. My shoulders were hurting, so TD tried to help work out some of the tension.”
He nods in understanding, turning his attention to the man beside me. “That happens a lot. She’s always rubbing her shoulders at the end of the day. Her feet hurt her too.”
My eyes narrow at my son. “Traitor,” I mutter before risking a quick glance to my left. “It’s nothing. Usually a hot shower is the cure-all for a server like me.”
A hot shower, some ibuprofen, and a good night’s sleep, but who’s keeping track.
TD makes a humming sound as he pulls his wallet from his shorts. Vivian drops off the bill and collects our dirty dishes, but before I can insist on paying my part, he climbs from the seat and heads to the counter. Knowing it’s useless to again insist I pay for our meals; I pull some of my tip money out of my pocket and place some bills on the table for Vivian.
Brody and I wait by the back door for TD, who pauses at the table to drop off a tip and finds the one I left already. He shakes his head and returns his wallet to his shorts before walking to where we stand.
“Ready?” he asks when he joins us.
“Yep,” Brody states instantly, pushing through the swinging door and walking down the short hall that leads to the staircase at the back.
I throw a wave to Vivian and the busboy before following them through the doorway. The two boys talk about Brody’s limited work schedule as we maneuver the hallway and they open the lower door at the base of the stairs. TD pauses, waving me on to lead the way up the steps, his warm hand positioned on my back for the briefest of moments.
At the top of the steps, I unlock the door and step inside our small, but happy, apartment. Cool air hits me in the face, a welcomed and refreshing change from the warmth and humidity outside.
“I’m gonna grab a shower, ’kay, Mom?” Brody says, dropping the basketball onto the couch and already heading for the bathroom.
“Of course,” I reply, toeing off my shoes and setting them on the rug by the living room window.
“Later, Coach. Thanks for the game. And dinner.”
“You’re welcome, Brody. See you at practice tomorrow,” TD says, holding out his fist for a bump.
I’m silent as my son slips into his bedroom and grabs a fresh pair of shorts before entering the bathroom and shutting the door. I don’t mind that TD hangs around for a bit, but my body definitely needs to unwind from the long, strenuous day on my feet. Since my son is currently occupying the only shower in the apartment, I’ll settle for more water and putting my feet up for a bit.
