Page 11 of Privileged (Adrenalin)

“Don’t lose another pen,” Lennon calls after me. As if I need another reminder of how much trouble I’m in.

***

“What are you doing here, Blake? I thought you had lessons this morning.” I hang my backpack in my employee locker at the spa and start taking off my accessories. Massage oil and watches do not mix.

“We’re between sessions so I figured I’d pick up a shift,” my athletic co-worker replies as he shrugs off his t-shirt and pulls a company branded polo out of his locker.

“Whoa, what happened?” I reach toward the purple-ish bruise on his side without thinking.

“Oh that?” He twists to study the bruise I’m referring to. “One of the kids confused his front and rear brake. I caught him before he flipped over his handlebars, but he caught me in the side with his helmet. Those things are rock solid, by the way.”

I chuckle and shake my head as Blake dons his work shirt, seemingly unbothered by the bruise. No wonder parents send their kids to him to learn how to mountain bike. He loves it so much he’ll gladly suffer the bumps and bruises that come with it so he can show the next generation the joy in it.

“You didn’t want to take advantage of a day off from the lessons?” I ask as I shut my locker and take a seat on the nearby bench.

“Teaching bike lessons is something you do because you love it, not because you can make a living off it. And people here at the spa tip pretty well.”

I know exactly what he’s talking about since I work two jobs myself. One day, I hope to eliminate the second one, but only if I can get a full-time position doing physical therapy. Maybe this is the year the ski team will have an opening. Until then, this spa job is the closest thing to my field I’ve been able to find. For my goals, working here makes sense.

For Blake’s, though?

“Can I ask you a question?” I venture.

“Shoot.” He removes his watch and sticks it in his locker.

“Why work here? I mean, I know it pays well, but it has nothing to do with biking.”

He turns his head to look at me, amber eyes seeming to flash with uncertainty before he licks his lips and turns his focus back to putting things in his locker. “It fits my needs in other ways.”

“What does that mean?” I wrinkle my nose.

He takes a deep breath and turns to face me, shoulders slumping a bit as he exhales. “The customers are… appealing.”

“I hear that,” I mumble to myself before his words fully register. “Wait. What? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I look up at him for clarification.

He joins me on the bench. “Don’t look so shocked. How else am I supposed to meet anyone? It’s not like there’s tons of single people our age running around town, but there are plenty of tourists.”

He’s not wrong, but I struggle to accept that he’s right. “What about Tiff?” I name our receptionist. “She’s cute.”

“I grew up with her, she’s practically family.”

“Cora?” I throw out the name of the bartender Dex hired a few months back.

“She works too much. And she’s my friend, same as you. I don’t do friends with benefits.”

“So, what, you just set up dates after you give a massage?” I blink in rapid succession. I don’t know any rules against that, but it seems like a gray area.

“Don’t usually make it to the date part.” He rubs the bridge of his nose sheepishly.

“Are you saying…?” I look around to make sure we’re alone. “Here?” I squeak. Blake is an attractive man, so I’m not surprised women are drawn to him. It’s not a stretch to imagine they’d hint at being available. But skipping the date part altogether, taking it further right here in the spa? That’s a scenario I can’t wrap my brain around.

“Why not?” He shrugs off my panic.

“Um, it’s illegal for one. And you could get fired.”

“I’m not worried about that. This is a job, not a career, so if it doesn’t work I’ll just find something else to do. Besides, customers don’t want anyone knowing about it any more than I do, trust me. We have an unspoken agreement—they want the happy ending, I deliver, we go our separate ways.” He gives me a wry smile.

“By deliver you mean…?”

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