Yes, his greatest talents all involved his body and its capabilities. On the tennis court. In the bedroom. But the things she’d said to him on that overlook and during their night together…
For the first time in a while, he’d begun to believe he might have more to offer.
Maybe she’d been humoring him, though. Maybe she hadn’t meant a word. Maybe he’d been fooling himself.
“Yes.” Her answer was firm. Definite. “Yes. I do.”
As he finally exhaled, that ache in his chest disappeared.
She added, “Even though I’m kind of bloated. Also exhausted, since Mr. Perky didn’t let either of us get much sleep. When Belle said she wanted to do the guided tour of the blazing-hot gardens, I told her I would take a self-guided tour of this bench in the shade.”
Poor thing. His older sister, from what he remembered, had complained about bloating and cramps and tiredness the first couple days of her period too.
What had Annika done about that, anyway?
Turning back to his next clients—now visibly restless, shifting from foot to foot and staring at him—he held up a forefinger, tacitly requesting patience as he tried to remember Annika’s monthly rituals and their accompanying supplies.
Tampons. Over-the-counter painkillers. He couldn’t remember anything else.
“I’m sorry you’re hurting.” He kept his voice soft. “Do you have everything you need?”
She huffed out a small laugh. “Are you offering to buy me tampons? Real ones, not the nose variety?”
“Yeah.” Wouldn’t be the first time. Annika had assigned him that particular task more than once. “If you want tampons, I’ll get tampons. Or pads, or whatever. Do you need ibuprofen or acetaminophen?”
Another long silence.
When she finally spoke again, her voice was equally soft. “That’s such a sweet offer, Lucas. Thank you. I have what I need on the tampon front, and I always carry a bottle of ibuprofen in my purse. You don’t happen to own a heating pad, though, do you?”
Now he remembered. Annika had used one of those too.
Until last year, he’d owned several of them, and they’d seen him through recovery from his surgeries. But they’d gotten lost during the move to the resort, and since he hadn’t injured himself since, he hadn’t bothered to replace them.
“I’m sorry.” He was, genuinely. “I don’t have one anymore.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be fine without it.” For a moment, he could only hear the chirp of birds from her end of the line, along with the distant murmur of strangers’ conversations. “You need to go, don’t you? Isn’t it time for another lesson?”
Past time, actually. By a minute.
“Yeah. I should probably go.” He bent down to pick up his racket. “But you’ll let me know when you’re done with dinner, like we planned?”
“I will.” The simple sentence was warm. Sweet. A caress. “See you tonight.”
“See you tonight. Take care of yourself, älskling.”
Then the call was over, and he placed his phone back in his bag and strode over to his clients. Smiled at them and apologized. Started his lesson.
All the while he made plans. New ones.
Ones that had absolutely nothing to do with his body.
* * *
The doorto the spa entrance closed behind Lucas with a muffled whoosh. Suddenly, he was breathing scented air, herbal and pleasantly woodsy, as his eyes adjusted to the decreased light in the expansive space. Despite the candles burning in the enormous stone fireplace, various recessed light fixtures, and the large picture window behind the check-in counter, the wood-paneled walls kept the area surprisingly dim.
A half-dozen people—all clad in snowy-white robes, all seated in cushioned, solid-wood couches and chairs—glanced up at him. He nodded at them, and then took stock of his surroundings, searching for what he needed or help getting it.
Wooden racks of beautifully packaged merchandise. Framed photos of the Matterhorn and other snowy peaks against vivid blue skies. Delicate paintings of edelweiss and asters.
