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Before I can think better of it, I voice the first one I come across, “Are you a family guy?”
As soon as he straightens and glares at me, I know I’ve asked the wrong question so soon into our work relationship. At least he’s not as close to me anymore, that could’ve gotten bad.
I’m expecting him to start snapping at me, but he takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “Uh, no. I haven’t been close to my family since I joined the band.”
“Why’s that?”
This is interesting – and possibly a breakthrough.
“My parents wanted different things for me, that’s all. They don’t approve of the life I’m living, so they don’t come around.”
That has to suck, and likely where most of his anger resides.
How would I feel if my parents disowned me because I didn’t get into the career they had planned for me? I’d be angry and lack self-esteem – I’d think I wasn’t good enough for the career I chose.
“What did they—”
“Look,” he snaps, his anger coming right back. “Yoga was enough, I don’t need you diving into my life and forming an opinion.”
“Are you worried I’d cast judgment?” I ask. “That’s not who I am. It’s part of my job to understand everything going on in your life, that way I can make the proper plan for you to cope with the emotions.”
“I don’t need to cope with my emotions. I’m fine!”
I’m used to clients yelling when I start approaching the root of their problems, so I don’t react when he raises his voice and, as soon as I open my mouth to say something else, he throws a hand up to silence me.
“I can’t do this right now,” he mutters, then heads through the back door and slams it shut so hard that it echoes through the air around me.
This is a start, but we still have a lot of work to do and it’s seeming like we might need more than a few weeks to do it.
5
Ryker
It’s late when I finally decide I’ve had enough tossing and turning. I climb out of bed, shimmy into a pair of swim trunks, and head downstairs. All the lights are off, save for the dim light coming from a night light plugged into the kitchen wall, and nothing but crickets can be heard throughout the house.
At least Wren isn’t awake.
When I get outside, I flip the pool lights on and disappear through the pool house for a beach towel. I eye the hot tub tucked in the corner of the pool, then dart my gaze to the light ripples of the pool water, debating on whether I want to relax against the jets or swim myself into exhaustion.
I toss my towel onto a nearby lounge chair, then ease into the warm water. As much as I love my home in Arizona, I hate how warm the water gets. Before I get too hot, I do butterfly strokes across the pool and turn to do the same thing back to the other end. When I take a minute to rest, fling my wet hair back, the sound of my back door opening catches my attention.
Wren walks across the concrete, humming and shimmying her hips just like she was this morning at breakfast, without a single clue that I’m watching her from a short distance. She’s got a piece of thin fabric covering her that she pulls off, tossing it gingerly onto the chair next to her, and my breath hitches.
The bright yellow bikini she’s got on leaves nothing to the imagination. It’s got thin strings that circle around her hips and tie at her hips – it would take nothing but a simple pull to expose her to me. Her top covers her breasts but leaves enough room to have a good idea of how much of the thick flesh would fit into the palm of my hand.
A groan slips from my throat, echoing in the night, and Wren yelps before spinning around with wide eyes. “Ryker, I didn’t know you would still be up.” She’s quiet for a few moments, fidgeting beautifully under my stare, and shakes her head with a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Nonsense,” I call out, stopping her from disappearing back through the back door. “The pool is big enough for both of us or are you afraid of a little competition in the water?”
She straightens her spine and faces me. Her gaze narrowed with a smirk tipping at the corner of her lips. “You wish, Rockstar.”
I raise a brow as she places her things back onto the chair and makes her way over to the water. When she gets deep into the water, her eyes find mine from a few feet away, and I watch as her nipples pebble beneath the fabric of her top.
I clear my throat and beckon her over to me with a lopsided smirk. “Let’s make the reward interesting.”
She crosses her arms with an arched brow, a clear sign of her challenging me, and gives me a curt nod to continue.
“If I win, you leave tomorrow morning and tell my manager that everything is great.”
