Page 67 of Shockproof

No one wants me.

What if no one ever wants me again?

**

Unexpected pressure is applied against my ribcage forcing my left hand to fly over and clamp down at the same time my eyes fly open to come face to face with my assailant.

“Okay, GI Joe with Kung Fu Grip,” Arley playfully sasses, “if you don’t want my help with laundry, I will happily go back to watchingBaking Impossibleand daydreaming about the rock concert themed cake I’m pretty sure I could build after a good trip to the pastry surplus shop.”

Not smiling isn’t even a thought to entertain. “When you say rock concert, you’re talkin’ more Weezer than Smashing Pumpkins, aren’t ya?”

“They can perform at the same venues.”

Light laughter bounces back and forth before I return the towel she had taken back into my possession. “You shouldn’t be worried about laundry, Angel Cake.” Adjusting my ass on the hardwood floor beside the couch where she’s been working is absentmindedly done. “I got this.”

“But I canhelpget that.”

“You don’t need to be helpin’.” The folding process begins again. “You need to be finishin’.”

“And you need to be sleeping.”

“I’ll sleep when you sleep.” I cut her a guilty glance. “I shouldn’t have been sleepin’ now. That goes against protocol.”

“Pretty sure everything that happens in this penthouse goes ‘against protocol’.” Her attempt at lightening the situation is accompanied by an eyebrow wiggle.

She’s not entirely wrong.

Sleeping with the client is prohibited.

But shit happens.

Two people constantly in close quarters often can or does lead to that rule being bent or broken.

One more reason I prefer R&R assignments.

That’s not an issue or complication that comes up.

And while fucking the target is off limits, falling asleep when you’re supposed to beprotectingthe client is unacceptable.

Period.

Full. Fucking. Stop.

Especially when that client happens to be the one person in your life you know you can’t live without.

“It’s okay you took a cowboy nap,” my girlfriend sweetly insists, fingertip reaching over to lovingly stroke the nape of my neck. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t you mean a catnap?”

“No. A cowboy nap.”

“What the fuck is a cowboy nap?”

“You know in old movies where they’re like sitting in a rocking chair, and they tip their hat real low to block their face and then drift off to sleep until some broad comes running over needing help or herpes or something.”

Yet again loud, body shaking laughter floods the room.

Lord have mercy, I’ve missed this.

---