Page 29 of The Boyfriend Experience

“Not during business hours.”

“God, that feels good.” His foot massage is no joke.

“You need one of those accordion gates.”

“I’ve looked into it,” I say, closing my eyes to enjoy the way his fingertips are pressing into the aching soles of my feet. “And I probably will before the condos go up for sale.”

“I know a guy who does them. I’ll give him a call for you.”

I open one bleary eye to smile at him. “Feeling protective all of a sudden?”

He shrugs, staring at me. “You’re young. Pretty. And rich, Oaklee. And while I think your obsession with Hanna is just that—an obsession—you are a target. You should take personal security more seriously. Especially since you live up here all alone. Doesn’t it freak you out?”

“Not until you put it like that.” I laugh.

“Seriously, how big is this place?”

“Four thousand square feet. Give or take.”

“Jesus,” he says, looking around.

“But it’s home,” I say. “My dad and I have lived here since I was born. I renovated it, of course. But all the original stuff is still here. I can’t leave. Even if I wanted to.”

He nods his head and begins massaging my calf. Which elicits a more sensual sensation than the foot.

I just look at him for a little bit. The way he’s concentrating on the massage. The shadow of stubble on his jaw. His broad shoulders and the way his muscles move in his upper arms as he works his magic on my tired leg.

I haven’t had a massage in ages.

Or sex. I have not had sex in months and that last hookup barely counts. It was quick and anticlimactic. Literally. At least for me.

Maybe I should take advantage of the perks that come with the boyfriend experience after all?

I know I’m buzzed. Possibly near drunk, like he insinuated. Those Gold Diggers were over eight percent alcohol content and I’m pretty sure I drank a twelve-pack. But Lawton Ayers is goddamned handsome. Even if he’s not quite my type.

“That feels good,” I whisper.

He smiles at me, making me notice, for the first time, that he has a little dimple in his chin when he does that. “Yeah. I’m well known for my foot and leg massages. Practically famous.”

Which gets me thinking. “So what’s your deal? I mean, besides you’re going through an early mid-life crisis and want to be a TV star?”

“Ah,” he says, laughing a little. “That’s a long story for another time.”

“I mean, you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head as he looks back down at my leg.

“Why not?”

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

I shrug “I’m too busy, I guess. To put in that kind of effort.”

“Same,” he says, looking at me for a moment, unleashing the dimple once again.

“So you just what? Hook up with people?”

“Is that what you do?”