Page 29 of D.I.E.T. (Did I Eat That?)

“Says the woman who hasn’t let another man into her life,” I responded dryly.

“I let lots of men in,” she said, defending herself.

“I said into yourlife, not your bed. There’s a difference and you know it. Rob hurt you and you’ve put up the same wall as me.”

“It’s not remotely the same. I haven’t met a Sinjin yet. When I do, then I’ll reassess.”

“Anyway.” I rolled my eyes at her. “Sinjin makes like half a bajillion a year. He’s the CFO of Futures Technologies.”

“So?” Lu answered.

“So? Girl, he lives in the Crest View Estates subdivision. On a cul-de-sac. Seriously, his property is so big that there aren’t any neighbors to the back of him. His master bedroom is bigger than my whole apartment and I live in a nice complex.”

“And that means…”

I huffed out an exasperated breath. “I’m a massage therapist from a broken home.”

“Why does that mean he can’t feel the same way about you that you do him?”

“Please, he’s the major league and I’m recreational peewee. We’re on totally different levels. I’m a plaything. A distraction. I have to be. I’m a lumpy masseuse he met at diet bootcamp. Does that sound like a woman you fall in love with?”

“Yes. If the woman is you, Geet.”

She didn’t get it. Thankfully, enough time had passed between our conversation and the uncomfortable silence to follow for the waiter to bring our food, giving me the opportunity to change the subject. We ate—and yes, that salad tasted like antipasto and magic—then Lu took me back to work.

Sinjin sent me a text saying he’d be a little late tonight and that there would be a white Escalade waiting outside for me whenever I got out. He sent a car. After my last client left for the day, I clocked out, still unable to meet Dion’s eyes.

“We’re talking, girl,” he said as I passed him, and not like an angry employer who’d found out one of his workers had done the nasty at his place of business, but that of a best friend who wanted the details. I looked up to smile at him and hurried out the door.

A man in a fitted, black suit with shiny, slicked-back hair got out of the driver’s side of the Escalade as I approached. He walked around to the passenger back to open the door. “Ms. Posch,” he said as greeting, then he closed the door behind me like a real chauffer. Apparently, Sinjin had done a spectacular job of describing of me because he knew exactly who I was.

The man even had the nineties station on for me. When we pulled into Sinjin’s drive, I reached into my purse to grab some cash. I thought tipping him would be nice since he’d done me a kindness, but the man refused.

“No need,” he said before walking around the truck to open my door. “It’s my pleasure.”

I scooted off the seat and turned to saythank youto him before walking up the path to the front door, then I let myself inside Sinjin’s house. It felt weird being in here without him home, like I was doing something naughty.

First thing first, I took a much-needed shower, after which I changed into one of Sinjin’s T-shirts and a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms because it seemed ridiculous to wear a sexy nighty while all alone. With the man being at least six inches taller than me, it forced me to pull on a pair of his thick, woolen socks, in order to tuck the hem of the pants into the socks. Then I went down to the kitchen to scrounge up dinner.

Using the leftover pork from last night, I heated that on the stove, and while that warmed, I julienned some purple cabbage and carrot to make myself pork and crispy slaw tacos. I made enough for Sinjin to eat, too, but when it became clear he wouldn’t be home for a while longer, I put the food away and made my way upstairs to the bedroom.

Eventually, I fell asleep watching a marathon ofExpedition Unknownonly to be woken up in a pitch-black room to my man sliding into bed next to me.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered.

“S’okay,” I sleep-slurred. “Everything go all right?”

“Crisis averted for now. Brandon’s a hard man to get a hold of. I had to make some quick executive decisions that I’m not comfortable making without his approval, but we ran out of time. Now, though, I’m wiped.”

“Then sleep.”

“Glad you’re here, Geet,” he whispered in my ear. “Glad that after the day I’ve had, I get to hold you while I fall asleep. Been thinking about you all day.”

“I’m glad to be here for you,” I replied, snuggling deeper into his side.

“This is per—wait a second.” He reached his hand under the comforter to whip one and then the other sock off my feet, then—whoosh!—my sleep pants went too. His arm came back up to circle my waist again and, on his side, he sunk his chin in the crook of my neck. “Now… this is perfect.”

I had to admit, if only to myself, that itwasperfect.

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