Page 35 of His Temporary Assistant

Nope. Not going to think about that right now.

I sloshed wine in my cup and took a long swig before refilling and putting everything away.

Before I did anything else, I needed to rid myself of this day. A total cleansing, spiritual and actual.

I took my wine into the shower with me and rinsed off the dust. It was even in my hair. I hated washing my hair more than twice a week, let alone twice a day. I tucked a towel around me and grabbed one for my crazy mop then sighed.

My dress and jewelry stared at me from where I’d left them on the floor as I stepped out of the stall. It was tempting to leave it all there, but my desire to keep my small space tidy won out over my mini-tantrum.

Gently, I detangled the chains of my rainbow fluorite, even though it had failed me spectacularly today. Not that it was its fault. Actually, I wondered how much worse the day would have been without it.

I padded across my apartment to my altar and set it onto the jewelry tree in the window for a little sunshine recharging. I made a pitstop in the kitchen to refill my wine again—the tumbler was small, dammit—and ate three pieces of cheese. That was totally enough for dinner.

Sure.

When I was dry enough, I put on yoga pants and one of my loosest shirts. I quickly braided my hair as I paced up and down the main living space.

The shower should have washed off my mood. This was my sacred space. It usually soothed me immediately and not just because of the specific network of crystals and diffusers I’d created with a bonus bit of sage work. I usually made sure to kick this kind of energy off me before I entered.

Now the vibe in my sanctuary was all off because my nerves were a jangling mess of lust, anger, and something else. The lust part was very annoying.

Usually in this situation—not that I’d ever been quite in this situation before—I’d just bang it out with the dude. Sometimes an energy exchange was all it was.

With PMS, it was a damn fireball and I wasn’t looking to get burned, thank you very much.

I grabbed my yoga mat and sat down in the pale stripe of sun at the center of my apartment. I needed to meditate.

Desperately.

I drew in a long, slow breath and let it out. Another one as I visualized myself sinking into my mat, connecting with the ground as each of my chakras opened like a flower. I filled myself with calm, expelling the anger.

My phone rang.

I opened one eye. “Seriously?”

I lifted my shoulders and sat up straight, closing my eyes once more. “Just ignore it. Orange flower, Ryan.” Another deep breath.

Luna’s text tone went off.

She could wait. She’d understand.

Another message.

I dropped onto my back with a groan then rolled to my knees. I didn’t even have the strength to stand up. “Pathetic.”

Another text came through as I crawled across the room to my purse by the door. This time, it was PMS.

“Ignore.” I stabbed the screen. I was tempted to turn the whole damn thing off, but it rang as I stared at it. Luna’s sweet face and blond curls filled the screen.

“Hello?”

“What the hell, girl? Aren’t we meeting tonight?”

I’d totally spaced out about recording tonight. Crap. “I’m sorry, Lu. I got home from work later than I thought I would.”

“Oh, right.” Her voice went sly. “Working for sexy texter guy. Is April’s boss hot? I can’t believe we’ve never bugged her at work and met this guy.”

“His texts weren’t hot.”

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