Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Bathroom.” I steered him toward the bathroom. “Come on.”
“What are we doing?” He hesitated at the door, hand going to the zipper for his hoodie like he was unsure whether to remove it or hold it in place.
“Relax. Your virtue is safe.” I patted his fleece-covered shoulder. He still held his water bottle, which I plucked from his hand to set by the tub. “But I bet a long soak would feel good while I arrange for food.”
I didn’t wait for his agreement as I set about finding a jar of Epsom salts, starting the tub with the bath salts and some bubbles, and laying out a couple of towels and a conveniently located fluffy robe. In the spring and summer, the frosted window over the tub would look out over Elaine’s prized flowers, but on this dark mid-December night, only a few twinkles of lights from the main house pierced the darkness. Luckily, someone had left a row of flameless candles near the tub, which I turned on for a relaxing vibe.
“I’ll order the food.” I left him to his bath. After placing the order on my phone, I used the wait time to make him a cozy nest on the couch. He liked that at my place when I draped him with my heated throw blanket and arranged pillows around him. The pool house lacked my collection of thrift store linens, but the linen closet yielded a cashmere throw that might as well be spun from clouds, along with a sherpa-style blanket that was undoubtedly softer than a literal sheep.
I lowered the lights and placed a tray on the ottoman for the food, which was minutes away according to a quick check of my phone. As I pocketed my phone, Alexander emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in the robe. He gave a tired but genuine smile as he took in the living room changes.
“You’re too good to me.” His tone was pleased as he let me settle him on the couch under the blankets. He smelled like eucalyptus and rosemary, and the little droplets of water clinging to his neck above the collar of the robe made me want to lick him there.
“You deserve someone to take care of you.” I distracted myself from licking impulses by fluffing a throw pillow for his head. “You worked hard today.”
“I’m not as nice as you.” He pulled his knees up to his chest under the blankets, looking far younger than thirty-four and more contemplative than usual. “I say the wrong thing a lot. I forget to be kind and say thank you. Stuff like that.”
“You’re kind and say thank you to me.” I wasn’t going to lie to him. He could be blunt, and occasionally, his inward focus meant his empathy tank ran low, but he wasn’t an unkind or rude person.
“Maybe you’re special.” Alexander let out a yawn followed by a belly rumble. “Guess I really am hungry.”
Continuing to process the comment that I was special, I checked my phone. “Food’s almost here. You wait here, and I’ll dish up your soup.”
Special. Alexander found me special. That, coupled with the earlier kiss, had to count for something. I floated my way out to meet the delivery person in the rear driveway before plating the food for us both.
“You ordered me soup?” Alexander sounded charmed.
“I figured you needed something easy to eat and digest.” I’d been around enough dancers in my life to know eating habits could vary wildly and sometimes superstitiously on performance weeks, but soup had seemed like a safe enough bet. “One of the restaurants in downtown Hollyberry does a really comforting chicken soup, and their kitchen is open late.”
I arranged the two bowls of thick, creamy chicken and noodle soup along with the provided bread on the tray I’d found earlier, adding glasses of water and some napkins to round out the presentation. My own stomach grumbled at the meaty scent as I took a seat next to him on the couch.
“Oh, this is perfect.” Fortified by a few bites of soup, Alexander gave a happy wriggle, shoulder grazing mine. “I’ve never had this before.”
“The soup?” It was good, lots of chunks of chicken along with carrots and potato pieces, but Alexander surely had encountered chicken and noodles at some point in his world travels.
“Someone to fuss over me who isn’t related or paid.” He more deliberately bumped shoulders with me, his smile going softer.
“That’s sad.” I shook my head, unable to return the smile because I was too busy thinking of dire fates for Alexander’s ex-lovers. “You’ve dated before. Surely one of them knew how to take care of you after a performance?”
“You’d think, but most of the time, it’s been someone similarly wrapped up in the production. Other dancers generally have their own needs and are managing their own adrenaline drop. “