Page 53 of Happy Is On Hiatus
“I’m forty-nine, by the way.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he continued. “Didn’t know what the rumor mill at the church might’ve said about my age.”
“Women don’t want to talk about their age or anybody else’s,” she said with a grin. “Unless you’re breaking the law.”
“I hear that.” His fingers were magical, and her mind drifted again. “I’m also single. My wife and I divorced ten years ago, so if you need any advice on how to get through it, I can lend an ear.”
Her eyes opened then, and she tried to steal a glimpse of him, but he was leaning into his work, his fingers applying pressure at the base of her spine, drawing a low moan from her.
“So you heard through the rumor mill that I’m getting a divorce?” She should’ve known.
“Yep. And like I said, I’ve been there and done that, so I know it’s not easy.”
“No,” she admitted. “It’s not.”
“Well, if you ever want to talk.”
“Does talking lead to sex in your book, because if that’s the case ...” She’d started to rise up off the table at that point, totally forgetting that she was naked from the waist up.
Vance put his hands on her shoulders and moved so that she could now stare into his eyes. “Not sex. Conversation. Relax, Rita. You don’t have to worry about every little thing.”
Oh, but she did, she’d realized over the years. Because the things she’d decided not to worry about had come back to bite her in the ass.
“I just want to be clear on the boundaries here, that’s all.”
“I can relate. While I’ve been through a divorce, I’ve never been a preacher’s daughter. So here’s the deal: our sessions are private. I don’t talk about my clients to anyone. And if we have a personal conversation, that’s private too. I may hear a lot of the gossip that floats around the church, but I don’t spread any of it.”
First, she felt chastised, and then she felt relief. “That’s good to know,” she told him. “Sorry if I offended you.”
“You didn’t,” he said and continued working his magic. Now he was lifting an arm and massaging her biceps. “And don’t apologize for setting boundaries. They’re necessary.”
That was the truth and made her think of the boundaries she’d had to set with her mother over the years. Although Vi still thought her word was law with Rita, it had taken a long time for Rita to learn how to push some of Vi’s most outlandish comments to the side, and morerecently how to steer Vi around even making those comments to her. Now she needed to work on the boundaries between her daughters and her personal life, but she could certainly handle that.
An hour and a half had passed before Rita climbed off the table, her limbs so supple she almost melted into a puddle on the floor. Vance had folded his table and packed up his oils by the time she came out.
“Mind if I use your bathroom to change? I’ve got a meeting at five thirty. I thought I’d have time to run by the gym to change, but we ran a little over.”
“Oh no,” she said quickly, now feeling guilty for enjoying her conversation with him almost as much as she’d enjoyed the massage. “That’s perfectly fine. In fact, I need to run upstairs and take something out of the freezer. Just come on up when you’re done, and I’ll walk you out.”
She left him there and went upstairs to the kitchen. She’d made chocolate-mousse cake when she came home earlier and had wanted the mousse to set quickly before her dinner with the girls. There were also some flavored waters she wanted to have chilled before the girls arrived, so she stepped into the pantry to get them. It had only taken a few moments, but the second Rita stepped into the kitchen again, she heard the commotion.
“Drop it or I’ll shoot!”
What in the world? Rita moved toward the sounds coming from the basement.
“Don’t move! I’m calling the police!”
She ran down the stairs, coming to such a quick stop at the sight of Taryn holding a gun on Vance, she almost tripped over her feet.
“Taryn, what are you doing?”
“Intruder!” her daughter yelled, her arms trembling as she held them extended before her, fingers wrapped tightly around the gun.
In the doorway of the bathroom, Vance stood holding the blue joggers he’d been wearing in front of him, but not quite hiding the blackboxer briefs or his toned legs completely. His chest was bare too, and Rita had to force herself to look away.
“He’s not an intruder, Taryn. Put the gun down.” The gun. Her daughter had a gun, and she was acting like she was prepared to use it. Rita would have to wrap her mind around that later.
“Then who the hell is he?” Taryn asked, casting a quick glance in Rita’s direction.
“He’s my personal trainer,” she replied. “Apersonal trainer. Just put the gun down.”
