Page 3 of Connor

“I’ve made you a beautiful welcome tea. Something to soothe your worries from the day before you begin your treatment with us.” Thrusting a white teacup with daisies painted on it into my hands, I take it, the cup looking comically small in my large grip. It’s cute, though, like it has meaning.

“I appreciate it,” I say, still hesitant. I take another quick look around, noticing colorful throw rugs and blankets.

“My name is Rainbow. I’ll need you to complete a new client form, and then we can begin. Please, take a seat. Relax. We like to leave all our stress at the door and come into Sunshine with an open mind.” Passing me a clipboard, I feel like her voice would be ideal as background music in my new spa, maybe even for elevator music. It’s very soothing.

“Of course,” I say, sitting in a wicker chair that creaks under me. I take after my dad in my physical appearance. I’m tall, broad, large, and heavy. And I swear to God, if this chair breaks under my weight, I’m never talking to Hudson again.

I haven’t completed a paper form like this in years. Usually, it’s done electronically, and I look up, the woman getting busy behind the reception desk. I notice no computer, no screen, and I’m starting to think I’m in the twilight zone or something.

I look back at the form and fill in my details, mindful to leave the number to the distillery rather than my personal cell. I may be waiting for my death in this place, but I’m not stupid. Data theft is a real crime. Who knows what Rainfall or Rainbow, or whatever the fuck her name is, is capable of.

I finish the form and throw back the tea without thinking. The warm liquid hits the back of my throat before it nearly comes right back out. It tastes like shit, and my cheeks puff with the need to spit it out, but I look around, and there isn’t a trash bin in sight. So, I gulp and immediately grimace as the earthy taste slides down my throat. I close my eyes, hoping it doesn’t kill me so she can harvest my kidneys or something.

“So what treatment am I in for today?” I ask, having no idea and not a lot of patience for this kind of thing. I’m expecting a relaxation massage. I’ve had one of those before a few years ago, and it wasn’t bad. I’m not really a spa kinda guy, though, and this whole situation makes me itch.Or is that the tea?

“We have you booked in for a sound healing massage and private yoga flow,” she says, and I’m glad I have finished my tea, because I would have spit it out in shock. Sound healing? Yoga flow? I’m going to kill those girls for leaving this part of our spa research to me.

“I’ll tell your therapist you’re here.” Her voice lowers an octave that decreases my stress a little. I clear my throat again. That incense feels like it’s drying it out completely. I watch her walk down the hall, presumably to get my therapist. I’m bracing myself, thoughts churning about if the witch has a wizard, and if they’re going to lead me to their cauldron.

But she comes back alone, a warm smile on her face. “Daisy will be with you in a moment,” she says, nodding, and I reflect the motion, nodding back. Should I just cut my losses and walk the fuck out now? I have no idea who Daisy will be and what special type of hell I’m in for. I look back at the front door, seeing my trusty driver through the dirty glass panel, standing at the car, waiting.

“Hi, I’m Daisy, I’ll be your therapist today,” a soft voice says, one that has my immediate attention. My head swivels back around, and I lock eyes with her. Vibrant blue shines back at me, and my shoulders lower instantly. I’m not sure if it’s the tea or if it’s the fact that she’s fucking beautiful. Her smile is small but welcoming, her lower lip slightly plumper than her top, giving her the perfect Cupid’s bow that has me staring. She isn’t like the other women I tend to see around the city, and although she’s in a uniform of sorts, I can tell that she’s a curvy goddess underneath.

“Connor,” I grit out and give her a sharp nod, then immediately clear my throat.That fucking incense.

“Welcome, Connor. Just this way.” When she turns, I get to appreciate her from behind. I usually don’t stare at women. I mean, I look, I’m a hot-blooded male, after all, but as I stand where I am, watching her retreat, my eyes slowly run down and up over her frame again in appreciation. Her long, thick red hair trails down her back, almost touching her beautiful round ass, hips swaying with every step and putting me in a trance.

“You better follow. She can’t do the treatment without you,” Rainbow says from the reception desk, and I look at her quickly, seeing a smirk on her face at catching me clearly checking out the therapist.

“Thank you,” I tell her gruffly and step forward, past a beaded door curtain that clatters against the timber doorframe as I move through, interrupting the otherwise peaceful sounds of what I think is waves crashing with windpipes, a sound I never hear in Whispers.

I duck a little, my tall frame almost too much for this small hallway, and as the floorboards creak under my weight, I wonder briefly if I’m about to fall through them completely. This place looks so old, I wouldn’t be surprised. The hallway is dark, the windpipes haunting melody tracking me the entire way. The only thing I take comfort in is her red hair as it moves as she walks, almost in time to those waves crashing in my ears. When we reach a room at the end, the windows let in more light, the ceilings higher, so I can stand tall and the air isn’t as thick with incense.

“Okay, so we’re going to start in this room today for the sound healing massage,” she says, and I whip off my top.

“Ahhh, what are you doing?” She takes a step back, looking stricken. Her eyes dart around the room, at everything but me.

“Getting ready for the massage,” I say as my thumbs hook into the waistband of my shorts. Sure, I’ll keep my boxers on underneath, but I’ve had a massage before, and this is what they usually require. Just as I start to lower my shorts, she shrieks.

“No! Stop!” Her hand slaps across her eyes, shielding her sight from me. I pause, my shorts wrapped around my thick thighs, my clean white tight boxers protecting my manhood as I frown. That hasn’t happened before. I work out, I’m in shape, and most women are in a hurry to take my clothes off. I’ve never had one who’s hidden her eyes from me. I stop what I’m doing and look at her blankly.

“What’s the problem?” I ask, confused, as her eyes remain hidden.

“This is asound healingmassage!” she blurts, her cheeks blooming to a vibrant pink, which is in complete conflict with her red hair, and I still.

“What?” I start to pull my shorts back up, feeling like I’ve committed a faux pas.

“It’s a fully clothed treatment. I need you to put your clothes back on,” she tells me, her hand not moving from her face, still not taking a peek at my nearly naked frame.

“Oh shit,” I mutter, my shorts now back in place as I grab my top and put that back on as well. She remains rooted to the ground. Hasn’t moved an inch. I stand quietly, watching her. Her large round breasts lift and fall quickly, but her hand remains glued across her eyes.

She’s the first woman I can’t take my eyes off, and she doesn’t even want to look at me.

3

DAISY

I’m mortified and too scared to remove my hand from my eyes as I squeeze them together tighter. The vision of his very chiseled chest is now imprinted on the back of my eyelids and the only thing that I can see.

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