Rhett laughed nervously. Bella grinned. God, it was true. She’d been so scared for her first one and now, she had so many she’d actually lost track of how many hours she had in. Too many, her sisters would say. Way the heck too many- her parents thought. Not enough yet.
There was a rustle of clothing shed in the room and Bella’s skin tingled. A prickling awareness raised the hairs on the backs of her arms. Damn. She’d never understood the whole fly on the wall statement until that moment. She’d give anything for a peephole into the room. Just so she could ogle Rhett’s solid legs. Maybe catch a glimpse of his boxers cupping a tight, granite ass. As in, he could probably crush shit with that ass.
She thought of cracking nuts open between his cheeks and she had to whirl away from the door before her giggles alerted Rick and Rhett that she was creeping on the other side of the door.
There was a noise in the room to her left and she barely had time to dodge away from the door and pretend to be busy sorting through supplies to place an order, before Scott emerged.
“Bella? Can I get some juice in here?”
“Sure.” She straightened. “How bad?”
Scott, a twenty-two-year-old who was the shop’s first apprentice, who just also happened to be a killer artist and a complete natural, shot her a private grin. She flashed him the thumbs up. “I would say, on a sweetness scale, we’re at about an eight.”
“Don’t worry. I’m on it.” She left the supplies she wasn’t doing anything with in the first place and flew back to the small kitchen area. She poured a quarter of a bag of crystals into a small cup and added about a tablespoon of water. The mix was strong enough to stand a spoon straight up.
She had it back in Scott’s hand in no time. He took the cup, glanced it and, raised a brow and flashed her another one of his winning smiles. He was super charming, had none of the attitude young people sometimes got, and was genuinely one of the kindest guys she’d ever met.
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
He also had a huge crush on her, but Bella always pointedly ignored it. She had rules. Dating co-workers wasn’t one of them. Apparently fucking my sister’s groom on his wedding day is okay. She gave her head a shake.
“That’s okay. We don’t want anyone fainting.” An eight on the sweetness scale meant Scott’s client, a middle-aged man who also owned a bike and wore leather- which was obvious because he’d come in dressed from head to toe in leather jacket and leather chaps over leather pants and parked his bike in front in the no parking zone- was just about in la-la land.
“Definitely not on our watch.”
“Those forearm tattoos. Tough to get you know, especially an hour in.”
“I checked the forms,” Bella whispered. “It could be something medical, but he didn’t disclose anything about blood pressure or blood sugar issues.”
Scott winked. He would never make fun of a client, ever, or say anything bad about anyone, but sometimes he couldn’t resist a little good-natured ribbing. “Don’t tell anyone but sometimes the guys who act tough might be over-compensating for not being tough at all. Which is okay. Just don’t judge a leather-clad book by its cover.”
Bella laughed softly. “Of course. I’m just glad I could help.”
After Scott went back into his room and closed the door, Bella forced herself to head up to the reception desk and actually do a little bit of real work. The supply order really did need to be placed. Trash needed to be emptied. The guys took care of cleaning their own rooms, but she had the lobby to straighten. Scott needed new business cards, seeing as he officially wasn’t an apprentice anymore. The list went on and on. She always managed to stay busy, even on slow days.
It was harder knowing that Rhett was there, but the hours ticked on and before Bella even knew it, Rhett emerged from Rick’s room, jeans back on, looking none the worse for wear.
She tried not to pout about not even getting to see his new tat. Or see him in his tight boxers. The fact that she’d do almost anything to catch a glimpse of his backside- which looked entirely too amazing in his sinful jeans that he probably picked out and wore in by doing a million squats and practice sits so that they cupped his rock solid cheeks just right- was a little bit of a surprise.
I should punish myself for thinking like this. It’s not right. It also wasn’t right that it had been two weeks since she’d slept with Rhett and she still thought about him. Dreamed about him. She might have even ventured into unknown territory and touched herself while thinking about the amazing O’s he’d given her in their last session- unknown being the thinking about Rhett part. Not the touching herself part. And seriously… no. Not last. First and only session. Because there is never going to be a next time. There can’t be. My parents would kill me.