Page 60 of Contingently Yours
I think that’s supposed to be a joke to put me at ease about co-showering, but I’m not used to jokes from him putting me at ease. The sight of his full-frontal nudity is also something I’m not used to. And while I wouldn’t say it puts me at ease, it ruffles me for another reason. If I go into that shower with him, I don’t know if it will be as quick as we need it to be.
“Come on, Tufty. I’ve already soaped you up before.” He grins. “Don’t deprive your man on your big day.”
And so begins the most surreal day of my life. I wait at every turn for the bottom to drop out, but it doesn’t.
When I show the Hepperlys all the rooms, Andrew stands by with what looks like a proud smile while I do all the talking. When I take them outside to view the outbuildings and guest house, he’s Johnny-on-the-spot, opening blinds and exterior doors that help accent the spaces with natural lighting. Stranger still are the occasional squeezes he gives me and whispers of “You got this” and “Good job.”
After we’ve shown all there is to show and agreed to give the Hepperlys an hour before we meet up for dinner in town, he grabs my hand and heads toward the beach. Stopping by a retaining wall, he motions for me to take a seat. I didn’t peg him for the type to watch sunsets, but it seems like a peaceful way to pass the time while we’re in limbo for our clients’ decision.
What I don’t expect is when he climbs up on the wall and takes a seat behind me, effectively straddling his legs around me. His fingers settle on my shoulders and work the muscles there.
“It’ll be good. I have a good feeling,” he comments off-handedly.
“You’re awfully optimistic today.”
“I have to be.” He laughs. “Because you’re freaking out.”
“I am not.”
Scoffing, his fingers dig deeper into the knots in my shoulders. “Look at you. Arms crossed, tense as shit. I bet you want to eat a comfort granola bar right now.”
Shaking my head, I let my arms fall to my sides. “And there’s the Andrew I know,” I murmur, although I feel a smirk playing on my lips.
“What are you going to do with your commission?”
I don’t know why he’s so sure I’ve made a sale. I know we’re splitting it regardless of who sells the three properties, but I’d really like to be the one to make this deal. Also, I don’t exactly feel like rehashing my current state of financial affairs. It makes me tense under his touch just when I was starting to give in to the unexpected pampering.
“I already told you,” I mumble, kicking at a rock in the sand. “I saved up for the girls’ wedding, so I haven’t been able to pay extra on my loans for a while. I’ll use the commission to knock out what’s left from my wedding loan, my truck, and then probably put a chunk down on my house to get ahead.”
“Seriously, you’re not going to do anything nice for yourself?”
“Being financially responsible is nice,” I counter.
“Such a wild man.”
I don’thave topay ahead on my house. My interest rate is stable, and I’m healthy. I’ll probably live long enough to pay it off. If not, I’ve got enough life insurance for Mom and the girls that they can pay it off and still have some left over for themselves.
“My mom could use a new bathroom remodel,” I venture, trying to prove to him that I can be reckless.
His sigh gusts against the back of my ear. That must mean I’ve disappointed him. His hands move to my lower back and begin to knead at the small of my spine.
“Tufty, Tufty, Tufty…” he murmurs. “Okay. Tell me this—if there was one thing you could have or do and money wasn’t an option, what would it be?” Before I can even think of a response, he adds, “Foryou. Not anyone else. Just for you.”
His thumbs dig into the tight muscles along my spine where my arthritis always kills me, making me grunt. I drop my head and close my eyes, trying to humor his ridiculous request.
“Army injury?” he asks softly.
“I slipped a disc when I was loading my gear onto a flight one day,” I admit. “I don’t know why. I’d done it dozens of times before.”
He works the spot for a while. It doesn’t escape my attention how careful he is. I think I may have broken him when I had that come-to-Jesus moment with him in the sunroom yesterday. This Andrew is…
Uhn, that feels so good.
“Well? I’m waiting?” he interrupts.
“I don’t know! I don’t need anything.”
“It’s not about whether youneedanything. It’s about what youwant. What your heart’s wildest desire is. That’s what hypotheticals are for.”
