I nodded with a small smile. “When you put it that way…”
“And yet, you still find time to comfort your neurotic neighbor over her dance audition news.” She rested her cheek on her hand. “Elena was right about you after all.”
Another flood of warmth suffused my chest, and I knew it was Darlene, slipping past the defenses I’d built around my heart. The moment held, wavered, and then broke when the baby monitor on my desk lit up. Olivia began to stir.
Darlene straightened. “Shit, did we wake her up?”
“No,” I said. “She wakes up once or twice a night, like clockwork.”
We both listened for a moment. Olivia fussed sleepily and then the baby monitor went quiet.
“She went back to sleep,” I said. “Sometimes that happens too, but around three a.m. she’ll wake up and I’ll have to hold her fo
r a bit. Most of the baby books I’ve read said to stop indulging her in it, but I’m not going to just let her cry.” I shrugged, rubbed my neck. “So I’m a big pushover, I guess.”
“No, it’s sweet,” Darlene said. She had a soft smile on her face that I didn’t like because I liked it too much. “You take good care of her.”
“I try. She probably doesn’t even remember her mom. But what if she does?” I glanced over at the monitor, quiet now. “Those baby books don’t cover what to do if your kid’s mom abandons her. Livvie might know that deep down. She might not. But I sometimes think she wakes up just to make sure she’s not alone.”
I blinked and tore my gaze from the monitor to Darlene. She was watching me, her eyes soft and shining, and I realized what I’d said. How much I’d said.
“Shit, sorry. I don’t… I’m so tired, I just started rambling.”
“You weren’t rambling,” Darlene said, then added in a brighter tone, “But you do look really tired. And stressed. And I happen to be a certified massage therapist.” She held up her hands. “It’s like, fate, or something.”
“No, no, I’m fine, thanks.”
“Are you sure? Because your shoulders look like they’re growing out of your ears.”
“I’m used to it.”
“You can get used to a lot of things,” Darlene said. “Doesn’t mean they’re good for you.”
I hesitated. I hadn’t had a beautiful woman’s hands on me in ten months.
This is bad. Or really fucking good, which is also bad.
“Aren’t you tired after massaging people all day?”
Darlene grinned, seeing victory at hand. “I think I have one more left in me. My shoulders hurt just looking at you. Five minutes and then I’ll leave you in peace.”
Without a word, I sat ramrod straight while Darlene rose from her chair to move behind me. I could feel her all up and down my spine. I was in the soft cloud of her space, and the scent of her—shower soap and her warm skin—fell over me. The light weight of her hands on my shoulders sent little shocks coursing straight down to my groin.
See? Bad idea.
Then Darlene’s thumbs dug into my shoulders with an exquisite pain, and all rational thought fled. A small groan of relief was pushed out of me with her digging fingers.
“Holy crap,” Darlene murmured. “Your knots have knots. I have never, in all my weeks of professional massage, had anyone as tense as you.”
I murmured something intelligible. My words were turning to mush in my brain. Darlene’s hands were merciless and my eyes fell shut. Tight fists of muscle unclenched in me, and sleepy warmth flooded in.
“You’re going to knock me out,” I said.
“You should be lying down,” she said. “I can work much better that way.”
“If I fall out of the chair, does that count?”
She murmured a small laugh, and then her fingers sunk into my hair, grazing my scalp, and sending gentle currents down my back. I felt drunk.