Page 28 of The Reluctant Hero

The next few flights are silent except for my panting. The amount of sweat I’m building is embarrassing. I can’t hear him behind me, but I canfeelhim there. I don’t get how he can be close enough that I can feel his body heat and not step all over me.

I’ve slowed to a crawl by now and I pause to catch my breath as I lean over the railing to see how much farther I have to go. It’s a long way.

“I did this to me,” I mutter, disappointed in my life choices all over again.

“You’ve come this far and I know you can make it,” a hot breath brushes over my ear, startling me. “Let’s take our time. It’ll be better that way, don’t you think?”

I don’t know if he meant the last part to sound so erotic, and I don’t want to embarrass myself by asking. My heart is now pounding for a different reason. I start moving again but my body is stiff. Now, I feel less herded and morehunted.

He’s right behind me the whole time.

“Much better,” he whispers so close to my ear that my eyes widen. I don’t dare turn around. I’m starting to be more afraid of myself than him. He better back off before I molest him in the stairwell.

As if he wants that.

I cringe and keep going at a steady pace. If he hangs out with Cade and Jake, I’m sure this is a joke to him. Getting me worked up so he can laugh about it later. Or to my face. It stings my pride and my heart. But I don’t want to wallow in front of him. I won’t see him ever again, so he can laugh it up.

My shoulders straighten, and my determination gets a boost. They’re all assholes, and I need to focus on getting another job. And adivorce.

I’m still out of breath by the time I get to the door on the first floor. My thighs are burning so bad my legs are wobbly as I open it. I should be too tired to get mad again. That isn’t the case when the first people I see are Cade and Jake at the elevator doors with big smiles.

I’m so glad I didn’t bring my purse today. I can march right out the doors and never look back.

“You made it,” Jake says as if he’s been cheering me on from the sidelines and he’s proud of me.

I lift my chin and pass by without acknowledging either of them.

“If we had known you’d be so feisty, we would have talked to you sooner,” Cade adds on with a laugh.

The disgusted look I give them both seems to surprise them.

“Who would want that? You’re both egotistical hornballs that hump the leg of any woman you meet. News flash, fat shaming isn’t an effective flirting technique. Speak less. You look better that way.”

Jake chuckles while Cade’s expression falls into disbelief.

How do people get away with being like that all the time? They deserve a taste of their own medicine, but I doubt they’ll ever get it. They’re pretty to look at and not much else.

A body passes to stand in front of me, halting my progress. The scruffy guy holds up my shoes with a grin. I frown, and then my lips part in surprise when he gets on his knees, his eyes staying locked on mine. I’ve never had a guy drop in front of me like that. It’s actually a little hot.

He sets the shoes down, and his eyes trail over me slowly before he stops at my feet. One hand wraps around my ankle with the weight of a shackle, and he gently picks my foot up and props it on his thigh. All I can do is stare down at him in wonder.

He clicks his tongue as he shakes his head. His fingers gently run over the blister coming up on the back of my heel, and he brushes off the bottom to inspect it. I end up slapping my hand over the baggy skirt so I don’t flash him.

“Poor feet,” his voice falls into a croon that has my hands clenching into fists over the fabric.

He slides my shoe on gently and sets the foot down to give the other one the same treatment. I’m in too much of a daze to worry about my balance. I feel pampered like a queen.

Whoisthis guy?

He gets to his feet easily and pulls a wallet from his back pocket, taking out a few bills. His eyes meet mine and he brushes the edges of the paper against my chin as if he wants to tilt my head up with it.

“You’re gonna’ take the rest of the day off and get those feet pampered. And a massage. I know you ache after all that stompin’, and you got no excuse for it but pride. It better be a clothed massage, though, or I’m liable to get pissed, understand?”

I blink at him, totally stunned. I don’t understand. At all. Does the guy have a foot fetish?

He leans down with a smirk, almost brushing my nose with his. “You understand, darlin’? Today’s for spoilin’ and relaxin’. Be here tomorrow at ten. Sleep in a bit. If you need an idea for a color of polish, I’d recommend black or red. Get your fingernails to match. I can’t wait to see it.”

This is unbelievable. I’m torn between the feminine urge to tell him where he can shove his money and the surprising pleasure of his easy care for my physical comfort. I can’t remember the last time someone tried to spoil me.

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