Page 5

CHAPTER 5

PAXTON

I finish assembling the last piece of the massage table I ordered last week, having somehow managed to sneak the giant box in without Monroe ever spotting it.

She’d been busy this past week traveling to her clients’ houses. Some of them were Badgers who hired her to help them with recovery from their workouts during the off-season, but some were non-athlete clients too. Either way, it’d given me a great opportunity to sneak all of this stuff in since I wanted to surprise her.

I gather up my tools, putting the screwdriver back in the toolbox as I step back and admire the table. It looks professional, and it certainly was the best one recommended to me by the company I contacted, but I couldn't stop the shot of nerves that hit me the second I'd finished prepping the room.

What if she didn't like it?

What if I'd gotten the wrong kind of table?

What if she would see this gesture as too serious and get scared?

I do my best to silence the racing thoughts, shoving them down as I move the table an inch to the left to ensure it’s centered in the spare room I have on the upper level of my home.

I’d previously used it for storage, but after Monroe moved in, I had the idea to turn it into a personal workspace for her, if the need ever arose. Not only did it now have a massage table, but also a wardrobe stocked with custom sheets for the table, the pillows she needed for positioning, and all the lotions she always stocked on a little cabinet tucked near the window across the room. I'd also bought new curtains for the windows to block out the sun, and installed a dimmer on the lights so she could adjust it how she wanted. A top-of-the-line sound machine rounded off the spare room now turned mini spa, and the pride I felt at a task accomplished helped ease the worry.

But of course, just like any time I'd stopped moving this past week, my thoughts immediately traveled right back to the Fourth of July and Clay's party. To that game that I’ll forever be grateful for. The one that tasked me and Monroe with a kiss that’s been a beautiful haunting every night since.

Fuck, I can’t even think about that kiss without getting hard.

Her lips had been as soft as I'd always imagined, and the way she'd fisted my shirt and drawn me closer made me think there was more behind it than just a challenge from a card game.

But that couldn't be right. She'd just gotten out of that terrible situation with Liam, and she was my best friend. She'd always been my best friend.

She's never seen me that way.

The breathy little gasp she released when my lips were on hers pleaded otherwise.

I groan, unable to get the kiss out of my head or the need that pulses through me for more. I do my best to distract myself, storing the toolbox in my garage, and finding Monroe heading through the front door when I return.

“How was work?” I ask, noting the black pants and top she wears when meeting clients, her sneakers black and yellow to support the Badgers.

She sets down her bag and keys at the drop station, sighing deeply as she heads toward the kitchen to grab a water. “Client was great,” she says. “But the commute is driving me crazy. I still need to get my travel table out of the trunk, but my arms feel like Jell-O. I worked on Marentrade, and he had knots I swear are as old as he is.”

I chuckle. “He isn't that old,” I say, and she cocks a brow at me, making me laugh.

“Fine,” she agrees. “But the knots definitely were.” She takes another drink of water.

I shift a little closer, motioning to the stairs. “Can I show you something I’ve been working on?”

“Definitely,” she says, leaving her water bottle on the counter and following me up the stairs.

Apprehension tightens my chest as I pause just outside the doorway to the spare room, fear zapping through me that she might see this as some sort of ploy for commitment. That's the last thing I want to do, especially knowing how much that kind of thing scares her, but I’m hoping she sees it for what it is—a gesture of support while she lives here.

“Do you need help opening the door?” she teases, looking up at me questioningly.

I bark out a harsh laugh, shaking my head as I turn the knob and open the door, gesturing for her to go inside first.

She gives me a curious glance before heading into the room, and then gasps.

I follow in after her, surveying her features and breathe a sigh of relief at the smile and shock that shapes her delicate face.

“Paxton,” she says, slowly walking around the room and taking everything in before turning toward me with wide eyes. “You didn't do all this,” she says with disbelief.

I slide my hands into my pockets, needing the action to ground me as I smile and nod. “It took me a hot minute,” I say, nodding toward the table. “I really hope that's a good brand. The guy at the company assured me it was the best.”

Monroe drags her fingers over the table, shaking her head at me. “This is the best table you can get,” she says, rounding it and stopping before me. “But...you didn't have to do this. I'm okay with traveling?—”

“I know you are,” I quickly say. “I just wanted you to have the option to not have to commute if you didn't want to. I know hauling that travel table around isn't the easiest, and now you can have a dedicated space to focus on your private clients if you want to.”

Her lips part. “I seriously don't know how I'm ever going to repay you for any of this.”

I furrow my brow. “You know you never have to pay me back,” I say. “I'm a saver. I like spending money on you. Especially if it supports you.” I tilt my head. “Is it…okay?”

“It’s perfect .” Her smile is bright, and she throws her arms around me, hugging me close.

I fold my arms around her back, tucking my chin over her shoulder, relishing the way she fits against me.

“Speaking of,” I say after she pulls away and starts examining the lotions on the cabinet across the room. “You know that trip I mentioned a few weeks ago?”

“Yeah,” she says. “You said you were going to the Maldives, right?” she asks, putting down a bottle of lotion she picked up.

“Yeah, that's right,” I say, nerves tangling in my throat. “I rented a bungalow,” I continue. “It's got a couple rooms. I wanted to know if you…could come with me? It's two weeks from now, so hopefully that's enough time for you to get a week off?”

Monroe laughs, the sound loud and boisterous in the quiet room. “Yes, please sweep me away from the reality of this world to the freaking Maldives .”

My eyes widen slightly, and I tilt my head, looking at her with utter confusion.

Her laughter dies, a crinkle forming between her brows that’s adorable as hell.

“Wait?” she asks. “Are you serious? You're not joking?”

I chuckle softly, running my fingers through my hair and shrugging. “I'm serious.”

“You want go to the Maldives…with me?”

I take a step closer to her. “We’ve traveled together a million times,” I say. “Our moms carted us on family vacations every year. Why wouldn’t I want to go on a trip with you?”

“Yeah,” she says. “That's true…but it was…all of us.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Did you not want to go on a trip that’s just the two of us?” I ask, my chest tight.

“No, of course, I want to,” she says, and relief uncoils inside me. “I just…it’s the Maldives . I could easily take the time off,” she continues, then shakes her head. “But Paxton, what about expenses? I have some fun money saved but not bungalow fun money.”

“I've got it covered,” I assure her, wondering why she’d even worry about something like that. “And I don't expect anything in return.”

“I can't take advantage of you like that,” she says.

“Monroe, you're my best friend. I’ve been lucky enough to make a good living from a career I love. If I want to splurge and go on a trip with you, it's okay. If it makes you feel better, you can buy me dinner.”

“The Maldives?” she asks, her eyes lighting up with an excited look.

“The Maldives,” I repeat.

She jumps up and down a little, a squeal escaping her lips as she claps before she throws her arms around me again. I catch her easily, my eyes closing briefly.

“This is going to be so much fun,” she says, pulling away and heading toward the open doorway. “I have to pack. No. I have to find a new swimsuit. Oh my gosh, I haven't been on a trip since we were seventeen and our parents took us to the Grand Canyon. This is going to be so much more fun!” She's speaking in a too-fast rush before she pauses, her smile deepening. “I know how I can repay you.”

“You don’t have?—”

“Please?” she cuts me off.

“Fine,” I relent. “How?”

She motions to the table. “Let’s test this out.”

Heat blazes beneath my skin. “What?”

“You get unlimited body work, on me. We could start now. I bet you have some spots that could use some help.”

Fuck me, is the heater on?

“Uh…it’s okay. I feel fine.”

Monroe laughs. “It’s the least I can do,” she offers. “I’ll step out. You get undressed to where you’re comfortable and get under the sheet?—”

“You just said your arms were jelly,” I argue. “We can try another time?—”

“I’m fine,” she cuts me off. “The idea of a vacation with you has totally revived me. I want to repay you in any way I can. Please? You can be the first client in this amazing space you built.”

Shit, this is a turn I didn’t expect, but I can’t turn her down. Not when she’s looking up at me as hopeful as she is.

“Okay,” I say, my voice sounding scraped raw.

“Great!” She heads to the door. “I’ll be back in a few.”

I look around the room, suddenly feeling lost in it despite the fact that I’d designed it.

Lock it up.

This is Monroe’s profession. I can’t make it uncomfortable just because the thought of her hands on my body has me half hard.

I do my best to think of mathematical equations and ice baths as I strip down to my boxers and slide under the sheet. Damn, the massage table is comfortable. Thank goodness the guy who sold it to me knew what he was talking about.

A soft knock on the door has my entire body tensing, but I give the all clear and Monroe comes in.

“I was just realizing,” she says as she heads to her lotion station. “That I’ve never given you any real body work before. Just quick fixes.”

“Yeah,” I say, shifting so my face is in the cradled pillow, my arms resting at my sides. It would be super comfortable, if I wasn’t trying hard as hell to think about anything but my best friend’s hands being on me any second.

Monroe immediately slides her hands, slick with lotion, over my bare back, and I swear just the touch brings me to life.

Nope. Ice baths. Lawson’s gym bag and how bad it smells.

“Whoa,” she says softly, adding more pressure to my right shoulder. “You’re so tense,” she says. “Relax. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

I laugh, doing my best to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’m a grown ass man. I can handle my best friend’s professional touch. I can do this.

I focus a bit harder, allowing myself to pretend this is any other massage therapist working on me to help me with recovery.

It’s fine.

I can ignore how wonderful her touch feels. I have to.

After a few more minutes, I’ve got a firm grip on my professional boundaries, and relax under her touch. She really is the best at what she does—talented doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“I get what all the fuss is about,” I say after a while.

Monroe laughs, working on my hands now. “Oh, you do now?”

“Yep,” I say, much more relaxed now. “I always hear the guys talking about how great you are, but experiencing the full thing is totally different.”

“You doubted me?” she teases, moving to my other hand.

Fuck, it feels so damn good when she does that thing with her thumbs?—

Nope. Ice baths. This is just muscle work. There will be no emotions right now.

“Never,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m just saying, you’re amazing.”

“Thank you,” she says. “It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me. Maybe if I give you enough work, I’ll feel like I’ve earned this vacation we’re going on.”

“You don’t need to pay me back?—”

“I want to,” she cuts me off. “Any problem areas you want me to check out?”

My heart.

My heart is giving me a big fucking problem right now.

“No,” I say. “I feel better already and I felt fine before. Who knew?”

Monroe laughs, finishing up by having me flip to my back. She works on my neck for so long I nearly fall asleep with how great it feels, and before I can even think about slipping up and reaching for her, she’s telling me to take my time getting dressed and that she’ll have a water for me downstairs.

She quietly heads out of the room, and I do take my time laying on that table, my head spinning from the work she’d done and from the feelings I managed to mostly quash the entire time she worked on me. The last thing I’d ever do is cross professional lines with her while she did her literal job, but damn, pushing those feelings down was a feat .

After I get dressed, I can’t help but smile.

She loved the room I set up for her and she wants to go to the Maldives with me. I feel like I’ve just won the lottery, and I can’t help but wonder how in the hell I got so lucky for her to be in my life.