Read The Masseuse for Free Online

his lips found the corner of mine. They were waxy with Chapstick and stuck a little as I tried to pull away. His eyes were already closed, and my nose itched a little from the overpowering smell of his cologne.
    The butterflies in my belly yawned. They made a big, dramatic show of it.
    “I like a woman with curves,” he said, giving my hips a little squeeze. “More to hold on to.”
    Translation: You’re not skinny, but you have nice boobs.
    Carefully, I placed my hands on his chest and eased back. I may not have been a Calvin Klein model, but I’d be damned if I didn’t look good filling out a size eight.
    “Why don’t you let me give you a ride home?” Randall wove his fingers together behind my lower back, latching me in place. “Better yet, why don’t you come over?”
    I pulled away, placing a hand on his forearm. “I think it’s better I didn’t.”
    The poor guy looked genuinely confused by this.
    “Did I misinterpret what was happening here?”
    “If you thought this would end in me spending the night, then yes,” I said.
    “Oh, come on,” he said, reaching again to push the hair out of his eyes. I couldn’t believe Amy had agreed to give him that terrible haircut. “When you put on that outfit, you didn’t think you’d be spending the night too?”
    My gaze narrowed. I had been thinking about spending the night with someone, just not him.
    “Don’t make this ugly,” I said.
    “What?” he asked, and then threw his shoulders back. “You know what, forget it. Have a great night. I should have offered a tip if I wanted a happy ending.”
    “A tip?” I asked, hip cocked out. “You didn’t even buy me dinner.”
    The light from the restaurant revealed the color rising in his cheeks.
    “And spare me the masseuse jokes,” I added. “I’ve heard them all before.”
    I left him standing in front of his white Lexus, nervously glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot.
    Fueled by annoyance, I walked quickly, the heels of my boots clicking over the sidewalk. The occasional car passed, but there weren’t any cabs nearby. Pho wasn’t in the restaurant district—this area was mostly dedicated to business, so after work hours, it tended to empty out. I crossed the street, making my way toward the Taco Bus and the police station. There was always someone in need of a cab there.
    I was glad I hadn’t succumbed to loneliness and brought Randall home. He was a pompous ass, only interested in himself—which is exactly why I’d liked him on the first date. I usually preferred guys who didn’t ask any questions. I didn’t want Randall digging around in my baggage, but at the same time it bothered me that he hadn’t really tried. It was a double standard I’d struggled with my whole life: I wanted someone to know me, but I wouldn’t let them get close enough to do it. It wasn’t worth it in the long run. You ended up alone, hurt, sitting on a grave by yourself drinking wine.
    It was better this way. I’d been thrown off by all the stuff with my dad and the grief he lived with every day for his soul mate. The last thing I needed was Randall trying to fill the void.
    Frowning, I passed the station and all the cop cars parked in the lot. Before he made detective, my dad used to take me to school in his cruiser. All the buttons and lights and sirens inside fascinated me, even when I was fifteen and having a cop in your family was the absolute worst. It always reminded me of the first night I’d ridden with him—I’d been eight years old, tired, scared, and starving, but hopeful too. Sometimes the first time you meet someone you know they’re going to change your life, and that’s the way I felt about Officer Rossi, the man who would later become my father.
    As I came to the police station, I changed my mind about the cab. The night was cool, and it felt better to walk. With each step, my bad date and overthinking faded behind me, and once again I found my mind returning to