Page 63 of Shake Your Boo Thang

“You think that’s him?” Beau asks.

“I’m not entirely sure, but it’s worth reaching out on Instagram. A lot of details line up for this guy.”

Beau helps me craft our podcast research cover story. Once we’re satisfied with the message, I hit Send and lean back in my chair with a groan of pain.

“Are you all right, darlin’?” Beau asks, his brow furrowing with concern.

I gingerly get to my feet and stand, then stretch with slow, deliberate movements.

“I’ve been sitting too long on that barstool, so my back muscles are acting up.”

“Is it your injury?” Beau asks, wide-eyed and worried.

“Hard to say just yet, but I’m not having any of the tingling or numbness that’s par for the course when my nerve damage starts acting up. For now, it feels mainly like stiff, tight muscles. Maybe I’ll grab a quick hot shower to loosen them up.”

Beau’s eyes sparkle. “I have a wonderful idea. Why don’t I give you a real nice massage?”

That surprises me. “Really?”

“Of course, darlin’. I’m not a professional, but I took some lessons from a physical therapist who was helping Mama when she was recovering after a bad flare-up from her lupus.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was ill.”

“It’s a chronic condition but these days it’s mostly under control. That said, flare-ups can still happen.”

I grimace. “Yeah, I know what that’s like.”

“Anyhow, after learning some pointers from the physical therapist, I would regularly give Mama massages when she was in remission because it can help with some of the pain. If you’ve got any body oil or lotion that I can use, I’d love to take a crack at massaging your back.” He singsongs that last part with a wink.

I hesitate. Although we’ve been naked in front of each other, Beau hasn’t spent a lot of time looking at my scars from the accident and ensuing surgery.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, I say, “I have some major scarring on my back and my leg. Are you sure that won’t put you off?”

“Not in the slightest, honey. Those are signs that even though your body has been through something traumatic, it’s healed and kept you going.”

I swallow hard and nod, deciding to trust him. “All right, we can give it a go.”

“If you don’t like what I’m doing, you be sure to tell me. The last thing I want to do is hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable.”

Somehow, that helps me shake off my self-consciousness.

Once we get to my bedroom, I pull my shirt over my head and set it aside before I gingerly lie face down on the mattress. I point Beau to the bottle of lotion, and he grabs it with far too much eagerness.

I grunt a little when he straddles my hips and sits down on my arse.

“Is this all right,” he asks, “or am I hurting you?”

“It’s fine for now.”

“Good. You tell me if anything changes, honey.”

I shiver when his warm, lotion-slick hands begin to caress my shoulders and back. His touch is gentle but firm, and he takes his time warming me up then going deeper and kneading the muscles to work out some of the knots.

It feels heavenly. My man has talented hands.

I still.

Fuck me. I just thought of him as my partner.