Jenny quickly pulled them up on her phone and they exchanged all the numbers that Lydia could imagine they’d need.
“I’ll work out the custody details with the police in LA,” Jenny promised as the guests in the van began to grow impatient. “I’ve got a friend at the firm who specializes in weird custody cases.”
Lydia gave her an impulsive embrace. “Thank you for everything,” she said sincerely. “Have a safe trip.”
She waved at the van, then returned to the spa to make sure that everything was ready for the next wave of guests.
It definitely wasn’t. Some of the wiser guests had decided to schedule services before the rush, and one of Lydia’s assistants was panicking that they didn’t have enough hands or supplies.
“We’ll make do,” Lydia said firmly in Spanish. It was her new motto.
She got to work, turning the last jugs of product on their lids so they could squeeze as much out of them as possible. “I’ll take the massage,” she said. “Call down to see if Laura can come do mani-pedis.”
She took the guest, the middle-aged brunette who’d been reading a book at the airstrip, back to the private alcove.
Memories of the night before swam back and Lydia had to catch her breath. Maybe they should concentrate on what worked for them, and the rest would come later.
Her swan settled serene black feathers against her back, pleased with this resolution.
Lydia was glad for the mood lighting as she went through her questions about injuries and the massage request with the client; she knew she was blushing like a schoolgirl.
By the time the spa had caught up, the next rush of visitors had arrived and were beginning to drift in.
Lydia only had time to eat an energy bar for lunch, and when the salon finally slowed for dinner, her hands were aching and her shoulders felt like she’d been lifting weights for a week.
“I’m going to need to get my own massage,” she laughed with one of her assistants, rolling her shoulders back and stretching. She wondered if Wrench would be any good at massage; he had those big, clever-looking fingers, but he seemed so nervous about touching her.
Small wonder, she thought, if touching her did the same things to him that it did to her.
But it gave her an idea.
Chapter 17
Wrench plodded through his day, muttering over the list that Bastian, Saina, Tex, and finally Laura had talked him into. Take an evening walk on the beach. Don’t talk about beating people up or how he got scars. Compliment her clothes. Laugh when she made jokes. He added himself, Don’t think too much about Renna or Ally, though he couldn’t keep himself from checking his phone a dozen times for a missed call, or a text with any news.
“You look lovely in that,” he practiced, over and over again. “Your hair looks great.”
The others had vetoed ‘You smell good,’ because they said it made him sound creepy.
“She does smell good,” he had protested.
“It’s best to pretend there is no other way they could smell,” Tex had corrected him.
Wooing a woman was clearly a minefield.
He made his way to the spa as the dinner rush was starting, glad to find that the front of the spa was not crowded. One of Lydia’s assistants was sweeping up, and she nodded towards the back with a knowing smile and a spatter of swift chatter in Spanish.
Wrench went back through the storage area and went out Lydia’s back bedroom door, where he finally found her.
Lydia was in the little courtyard behind the spa, folded into an impossible shape and balanced on one leg.
Wrench drank her in. As much as he dreaded the whole prospect of courtship, he felt better in her presence. Everything seemed somehow softer, without being weaker, and he could feel his panther settle.
Was this what peace felt like?
Lydia unfolded herself and bent her head over her tented hands, then looked up at Wrench expectantly. “Hola.”
Every practiced ph