“Hate to break it to you.” He laughed. “But you’re a masseuse, kind of part of the job there, sport.”
“I hate you.”
“Is that what has you all freaked out? Or is this about getting written up?”
Nikki paused. “Wait, what? I was written up?”
“It’s getting taken care of, it’s not like you can even see your workstation well enough to find dust mites.”
“Huh?”
He wrapped his arm around her. “Subject change. Tell me about the ass touching.”
“It was the deaf guy!” She slumped against him. “I touched the deaf guy’s ass. What sort of person does that?”
Cole went completely still, then roared out, “What?”
“You just said it was my job! You said you wanted to know!”
“He is not your job!”
“Why are you yelling at me?”
“He’s bad news.” He let her go and moved away. “Shit, shit, damn it, shit!”
Nikki reached out and gave his arm the slightest touch. Maybe he’d snap out of whatever psychotic breakdown he was having.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I just…no more touching clients’ asses, especially that little shit,” he snapped.
“Little?”
Cole groaned. “Please, God, tell me you didn’t touch anything else.”
“Er, no, not exactly, I mean there was…” She took a step away. “Worst conversation ever.”
Cole grabbed her arm again as they crossed the street. She could tell he was angry because his body was shaking. “Tell me he didn’t hit on you, or grab your ass, or force you to give him a happy ending, swear to all that’s holy, because if he did any of those things I’m going to prison for murder.”
“Of course he didn’t!” She laughed. “And I thought you said he was married.”
“Well…” Cole was quiet for a moment and then said, “Even married guys can be pricks, you know?”
“Good talk.” She nodded her head and wrapped her arms around him for a hug. “Thanks for not firing me for the ass touching or for getting written up. Why was I written up again? You said something about dust mites?”
Cole ignored her and returned her hug. “Best behavior,” he grumbled, hugging her tighter. “I mean it.”
“Of course!” She lied, she totally lied, because all she kept thinking about was the man who smelled like sexy cologne and had the body of a god, and she wondered if he was going to be on her client list again tomorrow.
She’d date him.
The thought almost knocked her on her ass.
Cole was right. She needed rest.
“See you tomorrow, friend.” She waved in his direction. He grasped her hand and pulled her to his chest, but not before brushing a kiss across her mouth. “Dream of that.”
Her throat tightened. Maybe she was wrong about him just wanting to be friends. “Cole—”
“Good night.”
Chapter Nine
One drink.
Two.
Three.
Not drunk. Hell, not even close.
Apparently, a fun side effect of partying for the last four years meant it was going to take a hell of a lot more whiskey to make him numb.
“Drinking to remember, or drinking to forget?” George wiped the sparkling bar top then filled a tall glass with club soda and a lime.
With a nod, Brant shoved his half-full drink toward George, trading it for the club soda that for some ungodly reason sounded better.
It tasted better, too.
Damn it.
What was with this resort?
“Forget.” Brant cleared his throat. “Who drinks to remember?”
“Old folks.” George grinned. His wrinkled face looked so much younger when he smiled. “Folks like me who drink bourbon to remember the good old days, or toss back a nice rosé to remember the wives.”
Brant sputtered out his drink. “Plural?”
“Four.”
“You dog.” He couldn’t keep his smile in. “Are you going to expand on that particular memory or just let me assume?”
George winked. “You enjoy that club soda. Let me know if you need another whiskey.”
“No.” Brant stood. “There are some things…even whiskey doesn’t fix.”
“Blasphemy.” George made a cross over his chest and chuckled. “Sleep well, Brant.”
“Keep remembering, George.” He tipped his drink toward the bartender and turned around.
As he walked off, he could have sworn he heard George whisper, “You can’t forget forever.”
The words hung in the air.
Haunting him.
Following him all the way into his room and into his bed. When he closed his eyes to sleep, the words hovered beneath consciousness as he struggled to remember all the reasons he’d been trying to forget about the best years of his life in the first place.