Part 45 (2/2)
”You've been working out.”
Her voice stroked as expertly as her hands.
”Yeah, some.”
”I can feel it. But your back's a maze of tension, sweetie.”
He tried to think of the last time anyone, including his mother, had called him sweetie.
”It's been an interesting few days.”
”Mmm. I'm going to show you some stretches, some tension relievers. You can take a couple of minutes to do them whenever you get up from the keyboard.”
She pulled, pressed, twisted, tugged, ground, then rubbed every little shock away until he lay limp as water.
”How're you doing?” she asked when she smoothed the sheet over him.
”I think I saw G.o.d.”
”How did she look?”
He let out a m.u.f.fled laugh. ”Pretty hot, actually.”
”I always suspected that. Take your time getting up. I'll be back in a couple minutes.”
He'd managed to sit up, mostly wrap the sheet around the important parts, when she walked back in with a gla.s.s of water.
”Drink it all.” She cupped his hands around it, then brushed his hair away from his forehead. ”You look relaxed.”
”There's a word between 'relaxed' and 'unconscious.' I can't think of it now, but that's where I am.”
”It's a good place. I'll be in the kitchen.”
”Abra.” He took her hand. ”It sounds weak and cliched, but I'm going to say it anyway. You have a gift.”
She smiled, beautifully. ”It doesn't sound weak and cliched to me. Take your time.”
When he came in she had the soup warming on the stove, and a gla.s.s of wine in her hand. ”Hungry?”
”I wasn't, but that smells pretty d.a.m.n good.”
”Are you up for another walk on the beach first?”
”I could be.”
”Good. The light's so soft and pretty this time of day. We'll work up an appet.i.te.” She led the way into the laundry for jackets, zipped up her own hoodie.
<script>