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“So it’s an ongoing thing?”
I tugged on my hair. “I don’t know if it will happen again. I don’t typically reach out to her. Like I said, it doesn’t mean anything. I’m not in a position for anything serious.”
“Hmm...” She paused. “I thought maybe from how…reactive you were to me that you hadn’t been with anyone in a long time. I wrongly assumed that I was the first woman who’d touched you in a while.”
She was the first woman who’d made me feel anything. I wanted to tell her that, but I had to be careful with my words. “My resistance had nothing to do with my feelings or lack thereof toward you physically…or otherwise.”
The frustration in her tone was apparent. “You don’t owe me an explanation. But why did you ask to call me just now? I only texted to get that simple message to you about Rafe because I’ve been thinking about him all day. You don’t want more from me, so maybe it would’ve been best to leave well enough alone if you seem to think everything is so complicated. This conversation is only messing with my head even more.”
She was pissed. And she was right. I shouldn’t have called her.
We both just breathed into the phone for a while.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “It’s just that…I’d never put myself out there like that before, the way I did that day in your office. And I certainly never did so while on the job. It just didn’t feel like work with you. It felt like something entirely different, like we were really connecting. It’d felt like that for a while. I misinterpreted where things were going with us—what you wanted. That’s my bad. I’ve got to get better at reading people so I don’t embarrass myself in the future.”
I sighed. “You read me just fine. We do have a connection. That’s undeniable. And I very much wanted things to continue that day. I…” My words trailed off as I rubbed my temple. Watch what you say, Dax. I wanted to explain more, but I couldn’t.
“I’m gonna let you go, Dax. Okay? I hope you have a nice life. I mean that. I’ll never forget you or Rafe…or even fluffernutter Winston who hates me. I’ll pray that everything works out for you all. Be well.”
My pulse raced. “Wren…”
Before I could get any more words out, she hung up.
Wren
I’d finally taken a new job with a massage company based in Wellesley. So far, it was a good move, even though it paid a bit less than Elite. Things were going pretty well overall in my life, in fact. In addition to the new job, I’d started dating a guy I met through a friend.
Sam Benson worked for his family’s chain of restaurants and had grown up in the same general area as me, though we’d never crossed paths when we were younger. He lived farther north of the city now, though. Things were casual between us, but I enjoyed spending time with him.
From the outside, it appeared that I’d moved on from my obsession with the mercurial Dax Moody. It had been a month since he and I had last spoken on the phone. So why did I still think about him all the time? That I couldn’t tell you. But despite still finding him on my mind almost every day, I was coming to terms with that small chapter in my life—and the unfulfilled desire and confusion that would likely exist in perpetuity.
This time, I’d really assumed I would never see Dax again—especially after the way I’d hung up on him. But you know what they say about assuming things, right? I found that out the hard way one night after work.
I’d just gotten out of the shower when my father knocked on the door to my bedroom.
“Wren, there’s a man here to see you. Something you want to tell me?”
A man? “Who is it?”
“His name is Dax Moody. He’s waiting downstairs.”
My heart nearly jumped out of my chest.
“What? Dax is here?”
“Yes. Who is he?”
I spoke against the door. “He’s…a former client.”
“He looks rich—drives a really nice car from what I see parked outside. Something going on between you and this guy? I thought you were seeing that Sam.”
“Dax and I aren’t dating. I haven’t even seen him in over a month. I have no idea what he wants.”
“You want me to send him away?”
My pulse raced as I frantically searched for my clothes. “No! I just need to finish getting dressed. Tell him I’ll be right down.”
“Okay…whatever you want.”
I threw on jeans and a shirt and ran the blow dryer through my hair before dabbing on some light makeup.
A lump formed in my throat as I descended the stairs. The sight of him made my knees weak. I’d always known Dax was tall—at least six-two—but compared to Dad, who was only five-eight, he looked even taller. He wore a black wool coat with a scarf wrapped around his neck.
