Page 78 of The Geography of Happiness

“I’ll go check on Hannah.” Terry put his mug on the coffee table and headed for the hall while I punched a couple of pillows into place and released a satisfied sigh. It had been a hell of a day in too many ways to count and my head was spinning.

Terry was back in less than a minute. “Still sleeping.” He closed the door and picked up his tea before scanning the available seating options.

“I promise I won’t bite.” I patted the couch, then shot him a look. “That is unless you want me to.”

Terry rolled his eyes and practically wilted into position at the opposite end of the couch, and I was reminded how tired he had to be.

“Go on, put your feet up,” I told him, patting my lap.

He side-eyed me for a moment, then slid both legs onto the couch and into my lap. “Damn, that feels good.” He reached for his mug of tea and took a tentative sip before raising both brows. “It’s actually not that bad.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” I scoffed. “It looks like the scum off the puddles of rain in the clinic carpark, excepttheylook more appetising.”

Terry almost choked on another mouthful of the disgusting brew. “Well, I like it. Don’tloveit, but it will do, considering there was no other choice.” He put his mug back on the table and eyed me accusingly.

I sighed and reached for the cup to take the tiniest of tastes, but the second the foul liquid hit my tongue, I returned it into the mug and disposed of the offending item back onto the coffeetable. “Holy fuck, that’s disgusting.” I scraped the taste from my tongue with my teeth and shuddered.

Terry jabbed me in the thigh with his toes. “You’re such a drama queen.”

I responded with a cushion to his head. “I don’t know how you drink that shit.”

He muffled his laughter with the cushion and then wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s evil,” I declared, starting to massage the sole of his right foot.

He gawped. “What are you doing?”

I sent him a look. “You wanna argue about it?”

He looked like he just might, but then my knuckles ran down the pressure points for his spine and he groaned and fell back onto the cushions, his eyes closed. “Oh, fuck yeah.” He slid further onto his back and I smiled.

“What was that you were saying?” I dug my thumbs deep, which elicited another porn-worthy groan.

“Nothing,” he said. “Absolutely nothing.”

A few minutes later he pulled his right foot away and substituted it with his left. “If you wouldn’t mind?” He peered at me through one open eye.

I chuckled and shook my head. “I’m immune to your wiles, Mister O’Connor.”

He opened the other eye and somehow managed to look sassy as shit, which made me laugh. “I doubt that,” he scoffed. “Especially since they appear to have an undisputed history of success.” He pushed himself to an almost sit while still keeping his feet in my lap, and I rolled my eyes at the sexy little smirk he threw my way.

“It’s not working,” I warned him. It so was, and I grumbled something about demanding friendships and picked up the other foot.

He wriggled his bum happily and settled in to watch me work. “Now, I do believe you were about to educate me on the love life of the Mackenzie equivalent of Don Juan. Namely, what you’re so scared of. Why you don’t date. What you want from your life. And in three sentences or less.”

I ran my knuckles hard down the sole of his foot and he squealed. “Ow.”

“Serves you right.” I rubbed at the spot, then pushed his feet off the couch. “All right then. But if we’re going to have this conversation, then you need to get your butt over here.” I patted the cushion spot right next to me.

Terry’s gaze narrowed. “Why?”

“Because we are not discussing my decidedly dodgy romantic history with you sitting over there thinking you’re just like all the others.”

Terry blinked, his body freezing.

“Exactly like that.” I stabbed a finger his way. “Because in case you haven’t got the memo yet, you’re sonotlike them that you may as well exist in another universe. I don’t talk with my hookups beyond the necessary. I don’t drink god-awful tea with them, that’s for sure, or massage their feet, for fuck’s sake.”

His lips twitched. “Colour me shocked.”

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