Page 12 of Angel's Smoke

“This is a good thing,” she told herself. “The only men with names like that are either in biker gangs or have YouTube channels where they spout off the benefits of chemically processed protein supplements while eschewing the need for vegetables and dietary fiber.” That last one was a particular pet peeve of hers. And if any positive thing could be said for her time with Travis, it was her ability to see the red flags whipping across her nose andnotdiving straight toward them like a bull in a ring.

Progress and all that.

Anna hung up her coat, toed out of her boots and, as was her nightly habit before bed, turned the living room TV onto the home shopping channel, hit the mute button, and scampered her way toward the bathroom. There was no passing Go, no collecting two hundred dollars. Not when her feet and thoughts were frozen from an encounter that had as much of a chokehold on her mind as another number.

Not a number, really, but a concept, one as boundless and intimidating as anything her usually adaptable brain could wrap its synapses around.

Infinity. Despite all the numbers that scrolled through Anna’s mental ticker tape reel, that one—which wasn’t really a number but kept standing out in the bunch regardless—was the one she didn’t want to examine too closely when engaging in her earlier stress-reduction tactic.

To be infinite was to know no limits. This would be particularly applicable in, say, the unlimited number of inappropriate thoughts Anna had also had about a stranger who just happened to fit the lingering vibe of her mystery man.

She closed the bathroom door, not even stopping to stare into the mirror this time, and instead made straight for the bathtub. Once the water was cranked to just hot enough to where her obstetrician wouldn’t yell at her for soaking in it too long, she reached for her super-secret basket of contraband beneath the sink. The things she’d kept private from Travis because the only risk he’d ever been willing to overlook (no shocker there) was his career being financed by someone else. If he’d known the aging septic system on the cabin would take a hit every time Anna indulged in one of her few comforts, he’d have literally thrown these babies out with her bathwater.

There, nestled within its wicker bassinet, was Anna’s version ofin case of emergency, break glass. Her hand-curated spa kit, complete with her French clay facial mask, cold-process all-natural artisanal soap made from coconut oil, vegan bath salts, lavender essential oils, and her favorite brandy-and-marshmallow-scented small-batch soy candle with the perfect edge-to-edge burn circumference. A daily plumbing indulgence of such a high salt and fat diet would set her poor septic system on a path her homeowner's insurance would never come back from, so she reserved these private primping moments for very choice occasions.

And, oh boy, was this a doozy of an occasion.

By the time she kicked her toes free of her fleece-lined leggings, the water had reached optimal body-to-water-displacement height. Anna quickly killed the tap, hiked a leg over the rim, and slowly sank into the only respite the outside hadn’t figured out how to take from her yet.

“Oooh, goddamn, that’s wonderful.” The water lapped over her chilled skin, drawing out the wrinkles of tension that had seemed to so firmly implant themselves in every pore of her body. The buoyancy had taken on a new air of enjoyment since she’d become pregnant. Her belly was only slightly rounder than it had been a month ago, since she’d finally started putting on some weight once the daily puking ended, but it was her breasts that had really been through the ringer.

Anna rested her neck against the lip of the tub and let her long hair ride the current of the water. In some sort of bodily symbiosis she’d never thought about too closely but was oddly grateful for, her hair always chose to pool around her breasts instead of directly across them, as if even her hair knew to stay away from her aching nipples. The damn things had been pulled to tender peaks for most of the day, and the only relief was letting the water handle some of her body weight so she could finally spend timenotthinking about her pregnancy. Or her clients. Or her bills.

Or the man whose name and number were currently taking up more space in her mind than they had any right to.

Because that man, Iron, had tap-danced across her psyche and sent reverberations that were way too similar to another man she also couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Stop. You’re connecting dots that aren’t there.” She groaned into the gathering cloud of steam.

But were they? Her fingers drew lazy figure eights on the surface of the water while she tried to untangle the threads of just what in the hell had bothered her so much about the man who’d saved her from the fate her Subaru nearly suffered. Sort of.

She hadn’t even gotten a good look at the guy. Not really, anyway. It’d been dark, and beyond him having an equally dark beard, a smoky voice like warm whisky, and the wherewithal to jump into crowded traffic to referee an almost-accident, she didn’t have a lot to go on about him.

“Still, things were . . . similar.” Anna closed her eyes and rested her other hand on her slightly rounded stomach, curling her toes as a new thought entered her mind.

Would it be so bad topretendto know someone like him? Someone strong, brave, caring. Someone thoughtful and kind, who looked after others when they were too stubborn to look after themselves. In a hypothetical situation, where eyes of brown and hazel could live on the face and body of a man like Iron and she could quell her surliness and mistrust long enough to let someone like him know her in return, would itreallybe so terrible?

Water droplets pattered along the tub’s edge as Anna lifted her arm out and reached for her basket of goodies. With two fingers, she hooked the edge of the wicker and drew the items closer.

“He’d be strong. That’s an obvious one. Probably the type of guy to get your oil changed for you before you realized you needed to—and do it himself in his garage or change the smoke detector batteries twice a year on daylight savings.” She rooted around in the basket, bypassing all the soaps and oils she’d usually grab. On any other night, the bathroom would be heavily scented with lavender and her body so drowsy beneath aromatic clay and coconut oil soap that she wouldn’t have had the energy to do much else.

But all it took was for her fingernail to graze along that curved smooth surface of silicone and her path forward was diverted toward a different course.

One she hadn’t thought to travel in quite some time.

Anna retrieved her compact waterproof vibrator, also colored lavender, and glided it down into the water between her legs. While she cradled the thing in the safety of her palm, her fingers led the way for a fantasy that had no business existing and had every business turning her night around from the trajectory her day had started on.

On instinct, she tapped the button to her favorite setting and parted herself, searching out the needy pulse that pounded within the cove of her thighs. The moment her middle finger grazed her clitoris, she couldn’t help but imagine that it was someone else’s fingers touching her in slow circles, discovering her secret slickness. Fingers that were thick and strong and quick enough to place themselves over the edge of her car window to keep her attention or snatch a phone out from under her nose to anoint it with his name. Deftness was surely an underrated skill among such men.

Soft battery-powered pulses replaced her stroking finger, pumping erratic breaths and ill-timed bravery into her body. She’d never done this before, fantasized about a man as she took care of her needs. The two had always been mutually exclusive. And just like in her fantasies, they always ended with her landing back in the real world.

Until that unfortunate occurrence, she was content to ride the wave of whatever her small tub could contain. As she crested her peak and let loose a guttural orgasmic cry so powerful her throat burned, her stomach somersaulted over itself.

A tinkling laugh escaped Anna’s lips as she killed the vibrator, dropped it in the water, and quickly brought both hands to her abdomen.

Her baby. Her future.

Her first flutters.

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