Page 19 of Plight
“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. I promise. It’s complicated.”
“Not good enough, young lady.”
“Listen, I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you back, okay?”
Before she could argue any further, I ended the call and then tossed a nearby tea towel at Chris. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
“Your initials spell DUC.”
He laughed and quacked, and then quacked some more.
“Oh my God. Really?” I drawled, sarcastically.
“Yeah. D. U. C. Duc.”
Sliding off the barstool I was sitting on, I climbed down from the breakfast bar and headed toward my room.
“Where are you going?”
“Bath.”
“Come on, Dani. I’m sorry. I was just mucking around. What about your Milo?”
“I don’t want it.”
“Sure you do.”
I shrugged. “I’m exhausted, and I want my bubbles.”
“And your rubber ducky?”
Chris choked on his own amusement, so I raised my hand and flipped him one last bird before exiting the room.
Slowly lowering myself into theperfectly heated, scalding hot water of my bath, I ooh’d and aah’d as my body adjusted to the delicious assault.
“Yesss … burn, baby, burn,” I cooed, smiling as the hot water and amber glow from my candle flame soothed me. There was nothing quite like soaking in a hot, luxurious bath at the end of a shithouse day.
I closed my eyes and savoured the moment until my phone buzzed not too far from my head. Startled, I reached for it to find a message from an unknown number.
Unknown: I fucked up today. Sorry.
Elliot. It had to be.
Biting my thumbnail, I shook the excess water from my fingers and typed a response.
Danielle: Yeah, you did. What was with that?
He didn’t respond right away, so I sunk lower into the water and closed my eyes, seeing only his. Their bright contrast to his jet-black hair really was striking. Captivating, even. My God, he’s so damn good looking now.
Elliot’s looks had never been lost on me. I’d always found them unique, mysterious, and intriguing. But now, with his broad shoulders, slim frame, and perfectly chiselled face, the sight of him — even behind my closed eyes — was playing havoc with my body.
I squirmed, swishing the bath water over the side of the tub. It had been ages since a man had had that effect on me. The last guy to do so was my then best friend turned fuck buddy turned boyfriend, Alistair. He’d been one of the Bomber’s fitness coaches until soon after our split, which was when he traded to another team. He’d assured me that it had nothing to do with our breakup, but I hadn’t believed him.
I haven’t heard from him since.
And then there was, Jared: another friend turned sex sidekick turned boyfriend turned mutist. The difference with Jared, though, was that we saw each other practically every day, and practically every day we pretended we’d never even met.
He served me a Chai latte. I paid him. I left.
