Page 43 of Physical Therapy

TWENTY

Edith

“You might want to handle this one,” Molly whispers as I guide my final client for the day out to reception.

She gestures to her monitor and then wheels her chair back a foot. I take a sideways step and lean down to read what’s on her screen.

Oh. Oh, wow.

My cheeks are on fire as I sneak a look at Molly. The girl can barely contain her amusement.

“So much for knowing which ones to avoid, huh?” She throws my own words back at me.

My client watches the two of us with interest while he waits to reschedule. I chew my lip and reach across to mouse over to the delete icon. I can’t believe he did that.

“I’ll deal with him later.”

“I bet you will,” Molly teases with hushed cat noises before smiling up at the older gentleman. “Another two weeks, Mr. Aitken?”

I take a deep breath and retreat to my office, shutting the door as swiftly as possible, yet gently enough not to draw too much undue attention. My thighs clench tightly together as I lean against the wall. He sent a goddamn email to me via Molly detailing what the hell he wants from me.

From my body.

I hustle across to my desk and snatch up my phone. His end rings twice before he answers in tones that leave my knees weak.

“You got it then?”

“Molly got it, yes,” I snap. “Jesus, Boe. What the hell were you thinking?”

He chuckles; the luscious sound has me rubbing the heel of my hand against the apex of my thighs. “Got your attention, didn’t it?”

“Is that why you skipped out on me today?”

“Why else?” I catch the sound of an engine starting in the background.

“I thought you’d simply made your point the other day and you’re done with me.”

He hums in ascent. “Perhaps I was wrong about that.”

“Where are you?” He should still be in the office.

“Heading home.” He guns the engine as he seemingly pulls away. “I’m cutting it fine. Fucking traffic.”

“Fine for what?” Ugh. He reels me in every damn time.

I navigate to his social media profile on my laptop while he answers. “My date tonight.”

Pig.Still. It doesn’t stop me ogling his gorgeous profile pic, drifting into memories of where those pouty damn lips have been lately. “You move on quickly.”

“No point fucking around.”

He was a client, I remind myself. Only ever a client. This whole damn mess could have been avoided.

“I better let you go then. I wouldn’t want her to be disappointed.”

I disconnect before he can say anything else that’s likely to tear a hole in my fragile heart. Molly stops what she’s doing and tracks me as I charge through the waiting room.

“I’ll be right back.”

She stands. “Oh no you don’t.” She points a manicured finger toward me. “You owe me answers over lunch.”

Damn it. “Later.” My eye catches the sign for the bathrooms. “I’m bursting.”

Her face falls, yet she lets me go without an argument. I shove through the swing door and then fall into a stall, relieved to hear the bathroom door swing shut again.

Since when have I been such a hot mess? Since that domineering asshole entered your office. The damp fabric of my panties rubs against my skin, reminding me exactly what said asshole does to me.

I slam the lid of the toilet closed and take a seat, hitching my skirt up around my waist.

This definitely can’t wait until I get home tonight.

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