26. Tyler
TWENTY-SIX
TYLER
Now
Despite my inner self wanting to chase Chloe back to her cottage after dinner, I practice restraint, staying back to clean up. Annika and Chloe walked back to the cottage and the two are now sitting on the porch chairs.
“So.” I hear Reid clear his throat from behind me.
“So,” I say, turning to him.
“How are things?” He raises his eyebrows as he glances at the girls.
“Things are going good, I think.”
“You think?”
“Well, nothing really has happened besides a few kisses but it feels like things are about to happen.”
“Do I need to talk to you about the birds and the bees?” He squints at me.
I push his shoulder. Hard. “Shut it.”
His laughter fades before he clears his throat “Take care of her, okay?”
“What about me?”
“What do you think Annika is talking to Chloe about?” he says, and I look at the girls again, both wrapped up in conversation.
“You both have been through a lot of tough shit that no one should, and yet you are both the kindest people I know. I have to admit, I always thought you two would make a good pair.”
“I don’t really care who takes credit for it, I just want a chance with her.”
Reid is quiet for a while. We watch as Annika makes her way back to the house, but before she reaches us, he pats my shoulder and says, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
I feel directly responsible for Chloe’s injury since I brought her to the rock climbing gym, so I think it’s my duty to make sure she recovers properly.
Besides, I’d be a terrible PT if I didn’t help a friend in a time of need.
I’m proud of myself for not pushing her into the cottage and crawling into bed with her last night.
Instead, I stayed back and gave her space in case she second-guessed anything we teased about yesterday.
It will definitely help her healing and although her injuries were minor, a good night’s rest should help her feel nearly good as new today.
And I did just that, gave her space to rest. But that was yesterday.
Knowing my thoughts of her aren’t going away anytime soon, I decide to give her a call.
“Yellow?” she answers.
“Purple,” I reply. “Morning, how are you feeling?” I ask.
“Hmm, a little sore— my neck hurts a teeny bit.”
“We should’ve practiced falling.”
“I already fell. Too late.”
“I can try to fix you.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
“I’m a physical therapist—I’m literally certified to fix people.”
“Oh, right, well, when’s your next opening?”
“Hmm, how about in an hour?”
Chloe is silent for a beat. I think I hear the pages of a journal flipping. “Yeah, I can work with that,” she says, and I chuckle.
“See you then, at your cottage.”
“The cottage? Not the clinic?”
“No, no, this is a house call.”
After a quick breakfast, I pull my portable PT chair from a closet in a spare room of the house—another reminder of how large this place is for one person.
When I lived in Charming, I had a small apartment and used to make house visits.
Many of my clients were elderly and couldn’t make it to the PT offices, so I’d drive around town to their homes.
Being a PT was never a long-term plan for me, but it’s fulfilling in its own way—to help those who need extra TLC. Plus, I’m damn good at my job.
The chair is easy to sit in, allowing the patient to lean forward slightly so I can massage their back and neck. This works well for Chloe’s neck injury since it will keep her upright and supports her head.
I gather up a few more tools—a massage gun, oils, and CBD cream—into a duffel bag.
I can always run back here to get anything else I need once we start.
I think I’ll start with a gentle massage to assess her pain points and locate the knots.
Then try easing the tightness with the cream, and, if needed, use the gun to isolate knots.
Chloe should feel like a new woman after I’m done with her.
Though, this won’t be like my normal appointments and Chloe’s not any client.
With her fall came the leap across the line that was drawn and there’s no going back.
Before I can convince myself that I’m too afraid to take that leap, too afraid to get close to another person just for them to be ripped away, I walk to the cottage.
“Oh, Doctor, thank goodness you’ve arrived!” she says dramatically, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead.
“I tried to get here as soon as I could. I know you’re in dire need.” I play along, approaching the front door. “Scooter, stay outside with the ducks.” I nudge his side with my foot. He looks up at me with big sad puppy dog eyes, then bolts over to the duck pond.
Chloe steps aside and I see that she’s made some room in the cottage by moving the coffee table off to the side. I unfold the chair and unpack my bag of tools.
“Do you want me naked?” she asks, and my face flies up, my cheeks burning. She has the faintest smirk on her face, clearly pleased by my reaction to her question.
“Uh, well, yes but”—I cough—“it’s not that kind of massage.
You sit as if you are sitting backwards on a chair, then lean forward.
If you want to change into a tank top, that would give me enough to access your neck,” I say, suddenly switching into professional mode.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with—though, a little fabric won’t stop me,” I say, winking at her, remembering again, I’m here with Chloe and not an actual patient. I can let go with her.
“You got it, Doc,” she says and pulls up her sweater over her head.
Underneath, she has on a light-green tank top with skinny straps.
As if instinctively, I gaze down at her breasts, which fall plump at her chest. Her tank top is sinfully thin not leaving anything to the imagination.
I look up at her and see a bashful grin on her face as she straddles the chair and leans forward onto the headrest. She’s wearing a pair of oversize sweatpants, the waistband rolled up a couple of times so they hang low on her hips.
As she leans forward, the tank top rides up, exposing a tantalizing strip of skin.
Her curly hair waterfalls along her back, so I gently pick up the strands, making sure to get every ringlet, and twist it, then place her hair over one of her shoulders to reveal her upper back and neck.
I warm up the massage oil in my hands and start by gently rubbing her upper back, moving to her neck and then down to her shoulder blades, working in rhythmic motions.
Chloe lets out a moan that tells me I’m working the correct spots.
She’s soft all over. I could keep my hands on her all day if she’d let me.
Not only being able to be this close to her, but helping her feel good is intoxicating.
I press my thumbs in with more pressure at the base of her neck, and she lets out a grunt.
“How’s the pressure?” I ask, making sure I’m not going too rough for her.
“Fuck, that feels so good, Ty.” She whimpers when I travel up to her neck.
My knees nearly give out her curse and at the sounds she’s making from my touch.
I keep working her shoulders and neck. She doesn’t have any knots which is a good sign.
She’s recovering well and hopefully my touch can help relax her even more.
My fingers graze the skin under the straps of her top, and I move them gently so they fall off her shoulders.
Chloe’s arms are resting on a ledge under the headrest, so I reach around, rubbing along her biceps, then return to her back.
I dip my fingers to the bottom of her shoulder blades, inching her tank top a bit lower.
I feel every cell of my body vibrating and myself hardening with every moan and whimper she lets out.
I angle down so I’m next to her ear and whisper, “Are you feeling good? Do you want more?”
“Mmm, yes, keep going,” Chloe says, and I see her rocking forward a bit in her chair.
I retrieve the massage gun from my bag and turn on the lowest setting, starting at each shoulder, then slowly easing down her back on either side of her spine. She wriggles in her chair as I move the gun to the outside of her hips.
“Is this too much?”
“Not enough,” she says. “I want your hands.”
I swallow and put the gun away, returning my fingers to her bare skin.
I dip them under her shirt and kneel low, kneading at her lower back, traveling below her waistband.
I press my palms up her back, then to her neck, inching forward to massage her chest from the back, pressing my fingertips into the soft top part of her breasts.
“Lower,” she requests, and I do as she pleads, grazing the peaks of her breasts over her shirt and cupping the weight of them in my hands.
I knead them while circling my thumb over her nipples, and a high-pitched moan escapes her.
Her head is out of the rest now, and she’s leaning back toward me, still sitting in the chair.
I dip my hands under her top and massage her breasts, skin on skin.
“Fuck”—I inhale sharply—“Chloe, you’re incredible,” I say as her head falls back to rest on my hip. My erection inches from her mouth.
Her eyes bat open, and as she looks at me, I smile down at her, my hands still gently massaging her skin.
I lean down and whisper to her ear, “Do I make you feel good, sunshine?”
“I always feel good when I’m around you,” she rasps out, and my heart explodes into a million pieces.
“Now”—she turns in her chair to face me—“it’s my turn to make you feel good.
” Her tank top falls to her waist, revealing her round breasts.
She pulls me by the hips closer to her and dips her hands under my joggers.
I’m speechless as she keeps my eyes locked with hers while lowering my pants to my feet.
Without breaking eye contact, she takes a long, slow lick from the base of my erection to the tip, then captures the end in her mouth.