I turned back to the rack, closed my eyes, and counted to ten. Only Mrs. Duffy would complain about a dress she chose. Not me. Her. Nothing we discussed was good enough. Every suggestion I made, she struck down in a most vicious way.

“Mrs. Duffy, let’s go see Jorge at ESCADA.” His taste was excellent, and his personality made being with the snooty woman tolerable. I was in the boutique last Friday, talking to my salesmen, and they told me ‘absolutely THE most gorgeous dresses eva’ were coming in this week. “I have it on good authority that several stunning gowns were arriving this week.”

“Fine, but if we can’t find a dress there, I may need to look for new fashion consultants.”

Her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I wasn’t sure how her husband listened to that heinous noise every day, but it made my head throb.

T-minus two hours until Luke’s hands are all over me, relieving my stress from this horrible day.

Within an hour of arriving at ESCADA, and two glasses of champagne later (for her, not me), she purchased a strapless white dress with large red poppies embellishing the skirt, and a black sash to wrap around her small waist. Without a word of thanks, she gave instructions for delivery, and walked out the door. Expressing my utmost gratitude for helping me keep my sanity, I gave Jorge a kiss on each cheek, and the promise of a girls’ night out soon before I rushed home.

When I got back to the apartment, Addison was up my butt about the time.

“Alexa, we’re going to be late.” Addison stood in the kitchen, tapping her foot on the floor, while I stood over the sink, devouring a sandwich. “What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” I mumbled around a mouthful of turkey. “What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” I gulped some juice to wash down the food. “I’m starving, and the last thing I want is for my stomach to growl while I’m getting a massage.”

Addison was a constant burning ball of energy that left me exhausted on a good day, but after my time with Mrs. Duffy, I had no patience for it.

“I just don’t want to be late. You know I hate being late.” Now, she resorted to whining.

T-minus forty-five minutes.

“Call a cab. By the time it gets here, I’ll be ready.” I turned back to my lunch and glass of orange juice.

On the ride over, we decided to do massages, dinner, and then a night out for drinks. She begged me to consider skipping my run tomorrow morning so we could stay out late, but with race day getting closer, being lax about training was not an option.

When we walked in The Rub Down, the look of awe on Addison’s face reminded me of how I felt the other day. We declined Jessica’s offer of a tour, and I showed Addie everything. She thought I was joking about breaking in to get our clothes, but we would have to see if she could figure out the complicated lockers when we finished.

“This place is amazing, Alexa,” Addison whispered as we entered the Zen room. She tilted her head and rubbed her cheek against the lush robe. “Seriously, how have we not been here before?”

“Told you. Wait until you sit there.” I pointed at the couch. “You won’t ever want to get up. I dozed off last time.”

Taking a cab here gave us a few extra minutes, so we grabbed a glass of citrus water, sank into the comfort of the couch, and flipped through an issue of Vogue. Her running commentary on some of the designs reminded me, once again, of her brilliance.

“Hey, Alexa, ready to get a rub down?” Luke appeared in the doorway, looking even hotter than I remembered.

I knew he was trying to be cheeky and funny, but his low, baritone voice made something deep down inside me tingle.

Addison grabbed my arm as her jaw dropped. I understood her reaction since mine had been the same.

“No wonder you’ve been disgustingly happy all week. If I had that man’s hands on me a few times, I would be, too,” she whispered in my ear.

I rolled my eyes at her before standing up and walking out of the room.

After we went over my trouble areas, he left so I could disrobe and crawl under the sheet. I knew I should have drank more water and less wine. Technically, I didn’t lie when I said I had one glass. It just happened to be one of those gag gifts that held an entire bottle.

After a soft knock on the door, Luke came in and set up his oils. The room was a little less romantic than my previous session.

“What’s with the music today? It makes me want to play a game of cricket tennis.”

“What in the hell is cricket tennis? Sounds awfully cruel,” Luke said with a deep-throated chuckle.

“It’s where you take a tennis racket, and instead of a ball, you use crickets. Wow, now that I say it out loud, it sounds awful. We played it all the time growing up,” I explained, laughing at how cruel it was.

“I’m not sorry to say that we didn’t play that evil game. Did you pull the wings off bugs while you were at it?” He chuckled. “Did you grow up around here?” He massaged some cold, wintergreen scented gel on my achy spine, and laid heated rice bags where I was the sorest.

“I grew up in Upstate New York, about two hours north of New York City. It’s a very rural area, so crickets were everywhere. My parents live out on the Cape now, and they still have crickets.” I paused and let out a laugh. “I won’t carry on about how crickets are my nemesis in fear you will think I’m a nut job.”

Wow, shut up, Alexa. He probably thinks you’re a psychopath.

“Ah, that answers that. New Yorkers are crazy people. I didn’t realize crickets were such villains,” Luke said with a hint of laughter in his voice. “Let me switch the music for you before I start. Do you have issues with ocean waves?”

Phew. Thank God, he was joking with me about this. Or maybe he was scared I would stab him if he turned his back on me.

“Waves are perfect. I love the beach,” I said.

“Okay, let’s get this party started. I’m going to begin with your legs. Are you comfortable?” Luke was now in therapist mode.

“Yes, I’m great. The heat feels incredible. Thank you.”

I heard Luke add oil to his hands and warm them up before touching my bare skin. Once they made contact, I let out the breath I was holding. His touch felt amazing and comfortable as if he’d been working my skin for years, not minutes. Between the warm rice on my back, and Luke’s fingers massaging my left hamstring in a continuous up and down motion, I could have been lulled to sleep if it wasn’t for the pressure.

When he started deep kneading the tissue, the force became too much, and I winced and tightened my muscles. Luke sensed the change in my body and lightened his stroke.

“Sorry about that, Lex. I got lost in my head for a minute. I typically do sports massages on men, and wasn’t thinking.” He sounded much more remorseful than the situation warranted.

Wait, did he just call me Lex? I’d hated that name ever since the sixth grade when a bully called me that right before she stole my favorite Barbie. Sexy Lexie was another nickname that made me want to punch someone. But the way Luke said it didn’t make me angry. It made me warm from the inside out.

“It’s all good. Don’t worry about it. I’m just being a wuss,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Doubt it. You’re training to run twenty-six point two. That’s pretty hardcore.” As if it was made of glass, he carefully placed my left leg on the table before moving over to my right leg.

Even though the music wasn’t sensual and the candles weren’t lit, his hands made me feel things deep in my core. I had hoped the last time was a fluke, but it wasn’t. I was screwed. The wave music had me picturing us down in Chatham, sitting in Adirondack chairs, holding hands, and sipping wine as we watched the tide roll in. Stars twinkled above while we talked about our childhoods and dreams for the future.