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Although no sign of trouble was the most important part. If the guy who’d been smacking Hannah around had stayed away, then odds were he was gone from her life. He’d taken Victor’s threats seriously and would disappear and, in time, Hannah could go home, and everyone’s life could get back to normal.
Hobbs gave Victor’s text a thumbs-up just as Tabitha pulled up to the house in her old sedan. Of course she’d just missed Hannah. Now Hobbs had no choice but to get a massage, because what else could he say? Not that he was complaining. Not at all. It was just that getting a massage from Tabby might not exactly be the best idea given the fact he’d kissed her on her birthday and had kind of imagined doing all sorts of other things with her ever since. During quiet moments, of course. Which had been few and far between since the moment his brother had shown up in his living room.
“Hi.” Tabitha stood on the front stoop, her slender hand white-knuckling the strap of the giant bag slung over her shoulder. The sunset behind was a wash of pinks and oranges, lighting up her dark hair and eyes. Her smile seemed a little too big, like it was forced. Trinity stood by her side, wearing her service vest, alert, happy, confident.
“C’mon in, Tabby. Trinity.” Hobbs grabbed the bag from her without asking, figuring it was some kind of massage chair. It was surprisingly light, just bulky. He stepped aside, hoping he’d be able to help her relax. No use having a massage from someone so nervous they couldn’t get their hands straight.
Tabitha walked in, followed by her dog. She popped off her sneakers in the entryway and followed Hobbs into the kitchen. She looked around, her face like she’d just entered an alien spaceship. Hannah had worn a similar expression the morning of her first full day here. Then she’d asked, “Is this all you have for cookware?” and poked Hobbs’s Everything Pot, which rested on the stovetop. Things had only got worse from there once Hannah opened a drawer and eyed the pile of plastic forks and knives that constituted most of his flatware. Luckily, Tabitha shouldn’t need a fork today.
“Do you want anything?” Hobbs set the bag on the floor. “Water?”
“No, thanks.” Her brown eyes looked especially pretty when she was nervous, because they were so big and bright.
“Tequila?”
Her eyes got even bigger.
“I’m kidding, Tabby. I can see you’re not in a joking mood. All business. That’s great.” He clapped his hands together. “Where do you want me?”
“Um.” Tabitha grabbed up the bag and scanned the living room, just off the kitchen. It was already dim, lit only by one lamp with a multicolored shade that cast the room in quiet ambience. “Anywhere is fine.” She pointed at the space between the couch and the chair where Victor had fallen asleep. “There?”
“Anywhere you want.”
Hobbs snapped off the kitchen lights and watched for the next five minutes as she carried the bag into the living room, opened it, withdrew a long piece of metal and began unfolding it, sliding in a headrest and adjusting knobs. She messed with everything, her movements flustered and quick, her hands going like little birds. Once she seemed to have everything in place, and was again playing with all the knobs, Hobbs walked over and stilled her movements with a hand to her shoulder. “It looks great. Should I climb on?”
Tabitha glanced at his hand, then up into his eyes, and cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said. “Get in the chair. I’ll turn on the music and go wash.”
Though most chair massage was done clothed, Tabitha asked Hobbs to take off his shirt so she could practice her routine on his back. He peeled his sweatshirt over his head without question and tossed it on the couch, leaving behind the warm, soapy smell of a recent shower. Nobody ever needed to tell Hobbs twice to take off his shirt, and though it was a running joke in the gym, he certainly had nothing to be ashamed of. He had a solid, muscular build with body fat so low Tabitha could see every delineation, which, despite being nice to look at, was an unexpectedly helpful study of the muscles.
“You can see your serratus anterior,” Tabitha mused. “I never noticed before.” Twice now those muscles had popped into her work, once with Candy and now with Hobbs. Names that had seemed impossible to remember were now coming to her in practical situations. Maybe she wasn’t going to fail all her quizzes after all.
“My serratus anterior?” Hobbs glanced at his midsection.
“Your boxer’s muscles.” Tabitha pointed near his ribs. “Your body makes everything really easy to see. Not just on paper or some mannequin. I’ve never seen them pop out as much as yours.”
Hobbs smiled. “Glad to be of help.”
Tabitha motioned to the chair and Hobbs climbed on, face in the cradle, his arms at rest on the padded shelf. His back was another wonderful story. As he shifted around, Tabitha could see the outline of his traps and lats, as well as the deep well of his spine thanks to the bulkiness of his spinal erectors.
“Everything okay?” Hobbs’s voice came muffled from the cradle after some time had gone by and Tabitha had yet to lay hands on him.
“Um. Yeah. Sorry.” Tabitha snapped to and dug out her lotion.Don’t use too much, she told herself. She squeezed a dime-sized amount in her palm, then rubbed her hands together, which were cold, despite the hot water she’d used to wash up. “My fingers are kind of chilly,” she warned. She hovered just over Hobbs’s skin, like she had with Candy, and could feel the heat radiating from him. When she finally made contact, he gave a little jump. “Sorry,” she said. “They’ll warm up.”
“It’s okay.”
Tabitha practiced her effleurage by gliding her hands all over his back and shoulders, hoping to warm up both her hands and his skin. As she worked her way around, the smell of his soap rose up and filled her; it was some kind of flowery scent that surprised her. “What is your soap?” she mused aloud. “Lilacs?”
“Not sure. It’s a bodywash with white flowers on the bottle.”
“Really?” Tabitha chuckled to herself, then realized she’d already made several errors. One, don’t ask your clients about their soap or comment on their bodies in any way, unless you were pointing out a bruise, rash or suspicious mole. Two, never laugh at your client. Three, keep quiet and let your client relax.
“What? It was the cheapest one,” Hobbs said. “It was buy one, get one free.”
Tabitha laughed out loud now. She’d already racked up the errors—might as well keep going.
“So I’m supposed to use a manly bodywash, is that it? Something like ‘Sand and Grit for Men’?”
“Ouch.” Tabitha’s laughter doubled. “That sounds painful. Perhaps ‘A Walk in the Woods at Midnight’?”
