“Seriously?” I asked. I tried not to think about my poor feet. It was my own fault for trying to be all fancy and wear my big-girl shoes. “I’m embarrassed you gave me a ride this morning. It’s so close. I can walk home in five minutes. In fact, I can’t wait to get to my sweet new pad.”
Soph smiled. It was her pure one hundred percent happy smile. The one she busted out when everything was working according to plan. Soph always had a plan. She plotted her life with the intricacy of a novelist; even her subplots had subplots. I, on the other hand, tended to live my life by the seat of my pants, letting the universe fill in my blank pages as it would. Truly, I sometimes marveled that we were so close, given that my modus operandi was so completely different from hers.
“See you tomorrow,” I said. Then I felt compelled to add, “Bright and early.” Making me want to kick my own ass. Early? I hated early. On time was about as good as I could get and even that was a stretch for me.
“Belly, I’m so glad you’re here,” Soph said. There was an entire unspoken conversation in that sentence, but I got it. Everything in my long day shifted into place at the sincerely relieved expression on her face. My friend needed me, and I was here for it.
“Me too.”
On that sweet note, I left. My feet hurt so bad, I debated using a ride service, but I didn’t want anyone in the office to see me and think I was lame, so I began the trek home, forcing myself to keep my shoes on and trying not to limp.
I crossed Camelback Road and strode up Twenty-fourth Street. My side street was tucked on the west side of the road. I turned and walked past the secluded mansions that sat back on the quiet two-lane road. The yards were so vast, I almost forgot I was in the heart of the city.
Daire’s estate was halfway down the street on the right. I let myself limp the final stretch, almost sobbing in relief when I got to the security gate. I punched in the code and it slid open. I hobbled up the drive to the right that led to the guest house. I used my key to enter, noting that it was getting dark and I hadn’t left a light on.
I dropped my bag and kicked off my shoes as soon as I stepped into the cool interior of the house. My feet were throbbing. I glanced down and noted that my heels did, in fact, have blisters. Well, hell. I knew the best thing I could do was to soak them, but I just didn’t have the energy to fill up the tub right now. I glanced out the back window. The pool was lit up with a blue glow in the early twilight. The attached hot tub also glowed but with purple. I knew that hot water would feel so good on my aching feet.
I stared up at the big house. The drapes were drawn. I couldn’t see light coming from any of the massive windows. Hmm.
The list of rules sat on the counter where I’d left it. I reread the part about the pool. It did not mention the hot tub. I poured a glass of wine into a plastic cup, not because I’m classy like that, but because deep down my decision had already been made. I was going to sneak into the hot tub.
It’s not that I’m a rule breaker by nature. I just look at rules, like this list, more as guidelines. And technically Daire had not mentioned the hot tub specifically as being for the homeowner’s exclusive use, so I figured it was fair game.
I twisted my hair into a knot on the top of my head, slipped on my bathing suit and bathrobe, and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. I opened the door to the backyard and felt the cool night air wash over my skin. I clutched my glass of wine and walked the perimeter of the yard to the far end, where the hot tub sat. Its jets were already whirring, water was bubbling, and steam was rising up into the night. It would be a tragedy to let it go unused.
I slipped off my robe and dropped it and my towel onto a nearby lounger. Then I tiptoed over to the edge of the hot tub, placing my wine on the surrounding ledge. I slipped into the water like a crocodile disappearing into a marsh. It took everything I had to stifle the moan that rose up in my throat as the hot water embraced every aching sore muscle in my legs and feet. Even the sting of the hot water on my blisters quickly faded into bliss.
I sat on the built-in bench, keeping my head just above the water. It was getting chilly out, and I knew it was going to be invigorating when I stepped out, but I wanted to get my body to optimum hot before I left the tub. I sipped my wine, pondered the few stars I could see amid the city’s light pollution, and glanced at the big house, repeatedly, wondering if anyone could see me and if they did, was I going to get busted?
Too bad so sad, I thought. Come what may, this was totally worth it. I stretched my legs, rolled my ankles, and flexed my toes. The hot water felt delicious. I put my feet right over two jets and let the force of the water massage the aches out of my soles.
I tipped my head back on the ledge and spread my arms and legs out wide. The hot tub was so big that I couldn’t even reach each side. I let the water lift me up and I drifted off the ledge. I pulled my hairpins out and tipped my head, letting my long curls float on the bubbles. I closed my eyes and relished being enveloped in the heat. It felt delightfully decadent.
When I started to sweat, I knew it was time to get out. I would have loved to take a plunge in the cold pool, but that had been expressly forbidden in the rules, so instead, I sat up, finished my wine, and tried to climb out of the hot tub as quietly as I could.
The cold air was like a full-body slap and I shivered. I danced from foot to foot on the chilly stone deck while I slipped on my robe. Then I bent over and swiftly wrapped my hair in the towel. I grabbed my empty plastic cup and hurried to my house as stealthily as possible. I was just stepping into the door I’d left unlocked, when the sensation of someone watching me made the hair on the back of my neck prickle.
Hoping fervently that it was just my overactive imagination, I glanced over my shoulder at the big house. I saw one of the drapes on the second floor move as if someone was yanking it back into place. Well, hell.
Nick
6
“Jackson, what were you going to say?” I asked.
Jackson and I were seated in the small dining room, adjacent to the kitchen, which overlooked the backyard. Lupita, my housekeeper and cook, had set us up with a charcuterie board while she put the finishing touches on dinner. I loved that woman. If she wasn’t already married to my groundskeeper, I’d propose to her for her carne asada alone.
“When?” Jackson asked. He looked confused. Small wonder since I was referring to our conversation this morning while working out.
“This morning, when I was bench pressing, you were about to tell me what you thought I should do,” I reminded him. “But we got interrupted.”
“Oh, right, by the hot tenant,” he said. He wagged his eyebrows. I stared at him.
He scrunched up his face as if trying to remember. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “You should go meet her.”
I glared. “That wasn’t what you were going to say. You just made that up.”