Charli
I was a total bitch to him.
I know it.
It’s all I’ve thought about since Sunday.
I wasn’t really meaning to, but my defenses were high after waking up in his sleeping bag, having slept better than I have in I don’t even know how long. Never mind the fact I hate cuddling—or at least I thought I did. But snuggling in the sleeping bag with Quinn not only helped me sleep like a baby but was more comfortable than I ever thought it could be.
Dammit.
Because of that amazing cuddle experience, I’ve thought of nothing else since it happened two days ago. Now, it’s Tuesday and I’m frustrated once more. Why? See previous statement, please. I’ve thought of only Quinn and the feel of being in his arms. Sure, it started out with me just lying on his arm as we got comfortable and drifted off to sleep, but sometime throughout the night, his other hand wrapped firmly around my waist and his body cocooned mine in the most perfect way. It was hot,sure, but I didn’t seem to mind, and that’s what is so damn concerning.
Sighing, I move about my massage studio, setting it up for my next client. I have two more after this one and then am off for the rest of the day. Once the room is ready, I step out into the main salon and park it behind the counter to wait. I pull out my phone, cueing up my schedule. It’s pretty busy the rest of the week too, and I’m incredibly grateful for the loyal clientele and business I’ve built over the last several years.
I look at the date, something niggling in the back of my mind.
Oh.
Oh!
That’s why I’ve been extra moody and bitchy the last few days. Aunt Flo’s supposed to make her monthly visit.
Actually, she was supposed to appear yesterday, if my math is correct. I close my eyes for a moment and picture my packet of pills. I know I started the placebo week on Sunday, which means I should have started yesterday. I take my pill every morning, like clockwork, and am incredibly regular.
Maybe it’s stress. I’ve been told that can affect your menstrual cycle, even when you’re on birth control. I don’t know, but before I can dive too far in figuring this out, the door opens and my next appointment arrives.
“When you’re ready, I’ll be out at the front counter. Take your time,” I tell Mrs. Swanson, one of the bank tellers down the street. It’s just after six o’clock, and she’s my final appointment of the day, and as I slip out of my studio, I start to feel the weight of the day settle on my shoulders and in my limbs.
I’m suddenly exhausted.
“If you’re okay with it, I’ll give Roy your cell number. He can call you and discuss that project,” Jenn says to her client.
I glance to my left and stop in my tracks when I see who’s sitting in her chair.
“I’m a little busy the next couple of weeks with spring planting, but it’ll level out after that and I should be able to help him,” Quinn says.
As if sensing eyes on him, he turns and meets my gaze. A shiver sweeps through me as his eyes rake over me from head to toe. It’s a slow caress I can feel as if he were physically touching me.
“Hey, Charli,” Jenn says, breaking the spell I seem to be under.
“Hi,” I respond, clearing my throat and once again moving to the counter.
Once I reach it, my studio door opens and Mrs. Swanson steps out. “I feel so refreshed,” she announces as she approaches.
“I’m glad,” I reply, grabbing a bottle of water to hand her. “Remember to drink plenty of water for the rest of today and take it easy.”
“I will, Charli. Thank you so much for squeezing me in,” she replies, handing over my payment and tip.
“Of course! Happy to help,” I say, slipping my money into my bag in the drawer. “Have a good evening.”
“You too,” she replies, slipping out the front entrance.
I lock my bag in the drawer and return to my room, ready to get everything cleaned up so I can head home. Just before I cross the threshold, I glance to my right. Jenn is talking to Quinn, and while his eyes are straight ahead to the mirror, I know he’s watching me. Out of the corner of his eye, he’s tracking my movements. He’s done it for years, and while I’ve never really paid attention to it, I knew it was happening.
I just ignored it.
Scooping up the dirty bedding to take to my laundry bag in the back, I try to forget about his presence as I walk by. Jenn is talking, brushing off his neck and ears with a brush, having completed his haircut. I have to stop myself from walking over and blowing on his neck.
