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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Vi’s jaw dropped as she perused her schedule. Rory’s signature scrawled a red-hot laser across her 11:00 slot. Oh, my. She wasn’t ready for this. Only yesterday they had been in Houston. Last night he’d driven behind her all the way back to Valiant. They’d texted late into the evening, exchanging pictures of faucets, cabinets, and knobs, but he hadn’t mentioned the massage again.
The texting, along with his hugs and kisses, had eased her stress about their pasts. Did Rory really love her? As if he knew the doubt would return, he’d kept her mind crammed full of accessory options … and other things.
Now this. Her bottom lip resembled pulp. A mix of elation and dread filled her when she saw his signature on the schedule. Fixing the twist in his gait shaped up as the easy part. Far more difficult would be him under her hands for an hour. The man made her feel as if she’d only had the slightest nibble of a divine chocolate bar. Her insides were free-falling.
Stay professional. He’s just a massage client.
If only.
Rory fidgeted in a chair in the reception area, every fiber in his body clamoring to escape. Scribbling his name on the massage schedule proved easy-peasy compared to showing up. Never a fan of his hairy red legs to begin with, the heavy scarring raised his embarrassment to new levels. He hadn’t worn a pair of shorts since he’d left the rehab facility.
Good grief, he’d have to perform gymnastics to get on the table. Would she want the prosthetic off? Sweat formed on his brow. Great. Any freshness from the shower he’d taken this morning had taken a hike. No way he could do this.
Rory rose to leave as Vi came out of the massage room.
Her steps quickened as if she’d read his thoughts, and she gripped his clammy hand.
“Glad you’re here, Red.” Her low, familiar voice ratcheted the anxiety down a notch.
He allowed her to lead him into the room. Now he stood way too close to her petite form. The sweet soft smell he associated with her permeated the air. The low lighting and sound of rushing water soothed him. Had he expected otherwise? Vi belonged to this world.
“Change into your shorts and … um … take off the prosthetic and slide under the sheets. Stay on your back. I’ll return once you’re comfortable.” Vi slipped from the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Rory’s hands shook as he donned the shorts. He unfastened the artificial limb and set it aside. She’d touch and feel the thick scars covering his legs. The ugly nub. All of it. And whatever relationship they had would poof into thin air.
The façade he presented to the world was only a mask to protect himself. When people saw what lay underneath, they turned away in revulsion.
This is what you wanted, Vi.
He maneuvered onto the table and lay down. A tear rolled into his hairline.
God, help me get through this.
Vi re-entered the room. Rory barely heard her over the roar in his head.
Her upper torso barely rose above the table, but her tone was all business. “I’m going to lift the sheet from your right calf and shine my phone light on it. I’m checking for scrapes and sore spots, so I don’t accidentally gouge one.”
Rory managed a grunt. Vi moved slowly and lifted the sheet. She studied his leg with rapt attention. Instead of the pity he expected, thoughtfulness arrested her features. With a feathery touch, she examined the worst sore spot. “Mm. This has to hurt.” Next, she moved to the nub, the premature end to his leg and foot. “Do you experience phantom pain?”
“At times.” His voice croaked with emotion.
“Okay. Now I know what I’m dealing with.” Her matter-of-fact attitude helped him breathe. She covered his leg. “Let’s get you loosened up. Red, I need you to close your eyes and relax. You’re tight as a tick.”
Obediently, he shut his eyes, and she chuckled. “Now it’s my turn to say, ‘I’m a safe place.’”
Rory stifled a groan. She had no idea.
An hour later, Rory woke to the pleasant sensation of no pain. The massage had lulled him into a twilight sleep of sorts. Except Vi hadn’t used any meds, only her hands. Those hands.
At one point, he remembered her close to his ear, her low voice telling him to turn over. He must have complied because he didn’t begin this journey on his stomach. The tightness had disappeared, and the constant itching had vanished.
This lovely haze could go on forever. Rory couldn’t remember a blessed thing about the massage except her tender encouragement and the exquisite feel of her hands.
He reattached the prosthetic and stretched. Oh, man. His range of motion had increased. Now he understood why clients tried to break the rules with gifts, tips, and favors. The same temptation coursed through his veins.
What if Vi didn’t want anything more to do with him? She’d gotten what she wanted, Was this beautiful gift the end of a deeper relationship? The thought had him reeling backward.
