“What’s this fundraiser for?” he asked when the car was in motion.
“No idea. He didn’t go into details, but I figure it’s fancy if you’ll be wearing a tux.”
“Great.” There was nothing great about the look on Zeke’s face.
“Are you not a fan of tuxedos?”
He glanced my way. “Not a fan of a lot of things, girl.”
“Maybe we can take Tank with us,” I suggested.
His eyes narrowed, those dark eyebrows slanting toward his nose.
“What?” I asked when he didn’t say anything. “I assume you’ll be working, so what would it hurt to have Tank there with you? He’s registered as an emotional-support dog, is he not?” Zeke had mentioned it and I’d been curious as to why. According to the big guy, he’d had Tank certified because it meant he could take him everywhere.
“He is,” Zeke said, the two words coming out slowly.
“Considering you’re not a fan of fundraisers or tuxedos, perhaps you need him there for emotional support.”
An almost-smile tugged at his mouth.
“I’ll be glad to contact them and see if it’s allowed.” I made a mental note to contact Troy and ask him where the fundraiser was being held and what it was for.
“Why would you do that?” Zeke questioned.
“Why would you babysit me?” I countered.
“Trent asked me to.”
“Well, I’m doing it because I appreciate what you’re doing,” I told him before returning my attention out the window.
A short time later, we pulled into a parking garage at one of the city’s most exclusive spas. I felt slightly underdressed, knowing the type of women who frequented these places. Not all, of course, but most of them. They were women who had money to spend and time to kill. Certainly not a place I had ever visited. I didn’t even know how I was supposed to act at a place like this.
I realized I had nothing to fret about when I was personally greeted by an older woman with kind eyes and a pleasant smile, who, as she explained, generally checked in their guests. Of course, she quickly informed me there was no formal check-in process because it had evidently been taken care of. Instead, she passed me off to an attendant who led me into a private room that was more of a sanctuary than anything. The lights were low, soft music playing.
I turned in time to see Zeke stepping into the room behind me.
“What are you doing?” I asked in a harsh whisper.
“My job,” he said easily.
“Not in here, you’re not.”
He smiled, but there was no amusement there. “I go where you go, Miss Tinsley. Save your breath because I’m not leaving. Like I told you before, your parts don’t interest me.”
I sighed and turned toward the attendant. Like he said, it would be a waste of my breath to argue.
“Please undress, Ms. Tinsley. You may put on the robe and lie on the table on your back,” the younger woman instructed. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I frowned, my eyes darting around the room. I noticed a silver tray that held a variety of instruments and also … wax.
“Well, that explains it.” I figured we could nix the sanctuary part of the description.
“If you even think about looking,” I threatened Zeke, “I’ll … I’ll…”
“Trust me, girl. I won’t peek.” As though to prove his point, he took up a stance on the far side of the room at the end of the table where my head would be. He wouldn’t see anything from that vantage point.
I didn’t think.
Without wasting time, I removed my clothes, slipped on the robe, then seated myself on the padded table, pulling the thin silk sheet over my lower half. It wouldn’t matter in a few minutes, but for now, it allowed me to maintain a little of my modesty.
The woman returned a moment later. “We’ll get the hard part out of the way,” she said conversationally. “Then you’ll be pampered completely during your visit. Mr. Ramsey has insisted we take extra-special care of you.”
I nodded, closing my eyes as the woman lifted the sheet and shifted my legs so that my knees were pointed outward.
“Have you been waxed before?”
“Yes.”
“It’s been a while.” Her lack of inquiry made me blush.
I swear I heard Zeke chuckle.
“Yes, it has.”
Without additional conversation, the woman prepped me, using scissors to trim my pubic hair, then quickly jumped right into it, placing the warm wax on my most sensitive parts and covering it with a strip of fabric.
“Take a deep breath,” the woman instructed. “And breathe out when I pull.”
I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut. I barely had time to inhale before I exhaled on a rough groan, the pain sharp and bright. Stars danced behind my eyelids as I gritted my teeth.
There were no apologies but I hadn’t expected them. I knew what was coming, but still, I hardly managed to inhale before the next strip was being yanked off, ripping the hair from between my legs.
