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It’s so bright, in fact, that I forget about the possibility that it could very likely still crash and burn. But that’s sort of the problem with turning a blind eye.
Harsh reality always somehow sneaks its way in.
Chapter 23: Grace Nash
Head in the Hole
Three Days After the Wedding
“The itinerary did say it was a couple’s massage,” Spencer says. He shrugs, and he looks nearly as uncomfortable as I feel.
We’re standing in a room at the spa staring at each other. Two massage therapists just told us to take off our clothes and slip under the blanket on the table. Even though we were nearly naked when we drunkenly slept in the same bed after the wedding, and even though we’re married…I don’t think we’re there yet.
How ridiculous does that even sound?
I’m not ready to get naked with my husband.
One of them did tell us we could leave our underwear on. We can get as naked as we’re comfortable with.
Well, I gotta say, I’d likely feel most comfortable with perhaps a turtleneck beneath overalls.
I sigh. “I guess I didn’t realize that meant we’d be getting naked in the same room together.”
“We don’t have to—”
“No,” I say, holding up a hand. “It’s all right. Just…turn around or something. No peeking.”
“If you want, I can go first and stick my head in the hole so I don’t see anything.”
I nod. “Okay. Let’s do that.”
“Turn around,” he says, as if I didn’t see him wearing nothing more than a towel two days ago.
I turn around, but there’s a mirror beside me, and I can’t help when my eyes dart over to it.
He’s already out of his shirt, and good God, those abs are something else. Are they even real? How exactly does one chisel muscles quite like that?
He leaves his boxer briefs on, and that’s when his eyes move to the mirror.
He catches me looking.
My eyes dart away immediately.
His only reaction to catching me is a soft chuckle as he finishes up. “Okay, my head is in the hole.”
“No peeking,” I warn.
He outright laughs this time. “Oh, so it’s okay for you, but not for me?”
My cheeks burn. “I was just checking if you were on the table.”
“Right,” he says, drawing out the word sarcastically as if he doesn’t believe that for a second.
I undress quickly down to just my panties and practically leap for the table, pulling the blanket up over my body as I try to settle my face into a comfortable position on the cradle.
“Are you naked?” he asks.
I laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
