It’s still Monday, also known as the most mortifying day of my life. Take two
“You know Mary?”
“I know Mary,” he repeats.
“How do you know her?”
“Mary used to work for my team. She was fired and relocated to the suburbs. Then she opened up a shop.”
“I’m sorry, what exactly did Mary do for a bunch of baseball players?” I’m holding myself up against the railing in the elevator, hoping the bouncing doesn’t do any further damage.
“We waxed stuff. It’s really not important,” he says.
“Yeah, it is kind of important. What did you wax? Now that you’ve brought it up, I need to know.”
Logan glances over at me with a raised brow and a smirk. “How about you use your wildest imagination and go with that.” This man is turning me on with just a look and the words coming from his mouth.
“So, you all just took turns getting waxed by Mary?” I know I’m pushing, but it’s distracting me from my situation. “Like, was she in the locker room and you all just stood in line waiting for your turn?”
“Hannah,” he says sweetly. “I’m more than happy to help you today, and even happier to spend time with you tonight, but I’m a little less excited to talk about anything that has to do with baseball, or the life that accompanied it.” He had to throw in that card just to make me feel guilty enough to stop asking questions.
“Fine. I’ll stop for now, but don’t think this is over yet.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in right now?” he asks.
“Are you a nurse or a doctor?”
“No, but I spent enough time with them to know how they gauge pain. Considering you’ve been through childbirth, I have an idea what to base your pain level on and whether we should go directly to the hospital or back to the spa.”
“I don’t want to go to the hospital, and I have to be free to get Cora off the bus. That’s if they don’t cancel school early. The ER will take hours since I won’t be on their top list of emergencies.”
“This is kind of an emergency. What if you have to go to the bathroom or pass gas?” These thoughts hadn’t crossed my mind, nor did I want them to because now I’m sitting here wondering what’s going to happen if either of those two situations come up before I’m repaired. Will I just explode? This is serious.
We walk—I hobble—outside into the snow that’s piling up to several inches at this point. I hear the plows, which is good since that means they’re planning to keep up with it. I also hope that means they aren’t planning to let school out early. “I really don’t know how I’m going to drive like this,” I tell Logan.
“Well, let me drive you to Mary’s first, and then after that, we’ll come back for your car.” Minivan. You can say it, it’s fine. I’m not embarrassed by it. I can make a minivan look hot, even with my candlestick ass.
“Okay, so my next question is about how I’m going to get into your monstrously high truck?” We shuffle through the snow and up to the passenger side of the truck. He opens the door and scoops me up with what feels like little effort. “This really hurts.”
“Did you do this for me?” he asks quietly.
I close my eyes because he’s staring at me with the most adorable smile I’ve ever seen on a man, and I’m melting, which would be awesome if I meant that literally. “I did. I wanted to give you what you’re probably used to being with.”
“That’s ridiculous because you have no idea what I like or what kind of women I’ve been with.”
“Well, Brielle appointed herself as my waxing mentor, and I was also basing it on my own experience because I know for a fact that’s it’s horrible to get a pube stuck in your teeth.”
Logan jerks his head back, and a small gust of snow blows off the top of his head. “How in the world did that happen?”
“He was covered from base to … like, halfway up. I was trying to show off my skills, and all of the sudden I felt like there was floss in my teeth. I told him I didn’t feel well and made him go home. End of story.”
“First, I don’t think that’s normal. I mean, I’ve unfortunately seen my fair share of dicks in the locker room, and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen someone with that much pubic hair. Second, I can see why you might be scarred.”
Okayyy, enough about my history with bad dates. “Anyway, here I am, and I’m waxed shut.”
“I have a feeling you’ll laugh about this someday,” he says with a soft smile.
“I have a feeling I’ll still be crying about this someday, but I’d like to go with your theory for the time being.”
“I think it’s adorable that you cared enough to do that during a snowstorm and when you have a lot of work to get done. You must really like me, huh?” he says lightheartedly, giving me a gentle squeeze.
“We survived the man flu, and we’re still speaking to each other. I think that should answer your question on whether I like you.” I try to laugh, but it hurts.
“I didn’t think I was that bad. Compared to other times I’ve been sick, I think I kept myself under control for the most part.” He’s calling that controlled? Oy.
“Logan, you needed liquid Advil …”
“So?”
“I think we should start over and pretend like this last week never happened. What do you say?” I offer.
“I say we do that after we figure out how to tear your ass apart.”
“Right.” I tried to forget my current predicament for a moment, but now I remember why I’m scooped up into this man’s cradling arms.
He curls me into his chest slowly, careful not to cause me any pain. “I really do like you,” he mutters quietly, under his breath.
With the snow falling around us and his warm body blocking out the frigid wind, I completely feel the exact same way. I’d tell him so but his lips are moving in toward mine, and I let my gaze linger on his face for an extra second, enjoying the sight of his dimples up close, noticing the faint freckles on his nose. As he moves closer to me, the scent of his spicy cologne mixed with the fresh snow forces my eyes closed just as his lips touch mine. He must have been chewing gum or had a mint recently because his breath is cool against me and strikes my lips with chills colder than the wind around us.
He’s a slow kisser and apparently likes to take his time moving from my top lip to the bottom, then covering all the parts in between. The tip of his tongue swirls around mine, leaving a cool sensation in its trail.
I’m lost in the moment, forgetting about everything else.
The connection between us is more than it’s ever been, more than I thought it was. I feel something deep inside that makes all the wrong seem right.
He hugs me to him a little tighter, and suddenly I know that I’d love to be his for as long as he’ll hang onto me. I’d even stay out in this cold snow in his arms with my ass cheeks glued together for an eternity, if life paused like this.
My heart thaws despite the opposing elements, and my pulse is erratic, speeding at a pace I haven’t felt in many years. Logan has brought me to a new place that I want to continue to exist in. I’m ready to feel the happiness I’ve avoided and yet missed, at the same time.
When he pulls away, I struggle to catch my missing breaths, and each one burns against the cold air surrounding us. With a light kiss on my nose and my forehead, Logan slides me into the truck and lowers the seat back a bit, so I’m in at an angle. “How’s that?” My senses are too overwhelmed for words right now, so I nod with a bashful smile.
I close my eyes throughout the short trip, trying to focus on something else, but the only thing I can think about is that kiss and the one from the other night. This man knows his way around a pair of lips, a talent I might have enjoyed later in other areas as well, but now I’ll probably have to wear a diaper or something—so much for a distraction.
The crunching of the snow beneath the truck’s tires becomes louder as we pull into the lot, and I tighten my fists, preparing for even the slightest jerk as we come to a stop. I’ve never thought about how much I use my butt muscles, but it’s a lot, which makes me wonder why I don’t have an ass of steel.
“I’ll help you out,” Logan says as he steps out of the truck. He’s halfway around the front of the hood when I watch him take a sharp left toward the front door of the spa, followed by his hands cupping over the glass door so he can look inside. He stands there for a few long seconds before twisting toward the truck and giving me a look of dread.
I know what the look says. It means they closed early because of the snowstorm, and I’m completely screwed. Shit! I’m leaving for Florida in less than eighteen hours. Logan makes his way back to the truck and releases a breath of exasperation as he closes his door. “Don’t worry. I think I know how we can fix this.”
“Hot water?” I question.
“No, that won’t help. Let me just run into the grocery store really quick.” Thankfully, the store is in the next plaza over, but I still don’t know how I’m going to manage to drive home. I can’t move my foot up and down over and over. It will kill me.
Logan is quick with his trip into the grocery store and returns with more than one bag, which makes me wonder what else he got, and if he needs multiple items to deal with this situation. Maybe he doesn’t have one solution, but a few to try. I’d rather go with a sure plan if that’s an option. Beggars can’t be choosers, though.
“What did you get?” I ask as he switches the gear into reverse. “Don’t worry. Just know I have a plan to take care of you, okay?”
I feel kind of sick right now. Are we ever going to get a chance to interact under normal circumstances? “What about my car?”
“It’ll be fine in the parking lot until we return at the end of the week. No one is going to tow it, and I’ve seen that a couple of cars in the lot haven’t moved since I started working there.” My instinct tells me it’s a bad idea to leave my car there, but my ass is saying something different.
The snow is coming down super hard too, and the van has never been great with more than a few inches on the roads. They may be plowing the main streets, but I’m sure the backroads and my neighborhood haven’t seen so much as a shovel yet.
It takes much longer than usual to get home, but I’m thankful for Logan’s four-wheel drive and skidding skills. We pull into the driveway, spotting Tiana in her yard with their stupid little dog. She’s wearing a fur coat, pink Uggs, and a Burberry scarf, with her hair loosely tussled up in a purposefully messy bun. I think I know her well enough to assume she has only fixed herself up today to take the dog outside in her “casual snow gear.”
“I don’t want them to know,” I tell Logan. I’m sure he already assumed, but I just want to make sure it’s at the forefront of his mind.
“Of course, I can understand that,” he says. “Let me help you, though.” He hops out of the truck, and I open my door at the same time, so I’m not acting like some priss who needs her door opened, as well as needing to be carried inside.
Logan helps me down into the snow, and I somehow need to figure out how to either lift my feet or use enough of my muscles to shuffle against the snow. “I can’t move,” I tell Logan, who’s waiting for me to walk ahead. He reaches into the truck and grabs the bags, then slides an arm around my back and opposite hip. He lifts me enough so it looks like I’m walking on top of the snow. If Tiana peers over, she’ll surely know something is up, though. Please don’t look over here.
We make it all the way to the front step before she turns around with her arms wrapped around her chest. “Oh, hi!” she shouts over. “Just taking Chicklette for a tinkle.” A tinkle. Who talks like that? I reach into my pocket for my key and unlock the front door, now staring at the one last step before we make it inside. Logan stands still for the moment, waiting to see if I make a move, but I don’t because I can’t figure out how to lift either of my legs without the tearing sensation resurrecting. “Is everything okay, Hannah?”
“She just sprained her ankle at work, she’ll be fine. Nothing a little ice can’t fix.”
“Oh no, I can look at it for you. I had to take first aid during my yoga certification class. Do you want me to look?”
“No!” we both shout at the same time. That doesn’t seem weird or obvious at all. “Thanks, though.” I don’t think our exasperated response was helpful because she’s looking at us like we’re lunatics. Whatever, it’s the same way I look at them all the time.
Finally inside, Logan closes the door and locks it, then helps me over to the living room couch. I haven’t spent so much time in this damn room in forever, and now I can’t seem to escape it. I don’t think I’ll ever have a good memory of this end of the house. “I’m mortified,” I tell him.
“My ex-wife had to put ointment on my ball sack scar for a month. While she did that, she curled her lip in disgust and touched it with a Q-tip as if she were touching a piece of dog shit. It was pretty much the highlight of my adult life,” he says, sarcastically.
“Can you dim the lights first. I don’t even know what my ass looks like in broad daylight, and I don’t think I want you to know either.”
“Hannah, I can handle whatever it is, okay?”
“What are you using to … fix … this?”
“Warm coconut oil,” he answers. So normally, I would think that sounds amazing, and kind of sexy hot as well, but I’m sure this occasion will ruin the idea of hot oil for me.
“Just lie down on your stomach and try to relax.”
The last time I heard that I slapped Rick’s dick. That went over as well as this is probably going to go.