Missed Connections by Tamara Mataya Read Free Book Online Page A

receipts. I can fill in the rest of the information when a client asks for one. “You should get Blake to do some too while he’s in. He only has one signed page left.” She pats my forearm with her oily hand and riffles through my stack of papers, leaving greasy fingerprints all over them before finding the receipt book and grabbing a pen, then taking them back to one of the reception chairs.
    Since Blake usually only works on the weekends, we haven’t met. I am a bit curious about the masseuse who’s capable of doing things by himself and never makes a mess for me to clean up on Monday. If Phyllis worked weekends alone, I’d come in on Monday to a spa that looked like someone was partway through a game of Jumanji.
    Blake is in today, covering for Fern, who had some energy crisis to take care of. He was with his client before I got here and hasn’t come out yet.
    I wonder if he’s like the other after-hours massage therapist I’ve met—a large, forty-something man with a mustache and booming voice. Now that I’m caught up with everything, I rush to the kitchen to wash the oil off my hand while Phyllis fills in her receipt book.
    A guy with an olive complexion and a medium build folds a towel and sets it on a stack on the shelf. I blink hard. Since I started working here, no one else has done the laundry, except for Ziggy—and he screws it up so badly that I’ve forbidden him from doing it…not that he listens. The other therapists don’t even restock the fresh towels in their rooms.
    “Hello?”
    He turns to me. “Hey.”
    I’d pictured him completely wrong, assuming he’d be another version of Ziggy—unkempt and blond, puka shell necklace maybe. He’s Italian, or maybe Hispanic, late twenties, attractive with dark, sparkling eyes, a straight nose, and nice lips. Strong jaw. Hot. “I assume you’re Blake, since the laundry fairy isn’t real.”
    His smile reveals dimples and nice teeth. “Maybe I’m both.”
    “No. The laundry fairy would have brought us dryer sheets that don’t hurt baby animals.”
    “That’s true, but don’t let Fern hear you say that.” He holds out his hand. “I am Blake. And you must be Sarah.”
    “Yes. Hang on a second.” I hit the sink and scrub like I’m going into surgery, literally shuddering with relief as the oil is washed away beneath the lather of the eco-friendly hand soap. When my hands are dry, I shake his hand. “So you normally only work on weekends here?”
    “Yeah, I work full-time at another clinic. I pretty much only sneak in here when no one’s looking.”
    “Can’t blame you there.”
    “I had an opening today and was able to come cover for Fern.”
    “That’s nice of you.” I feel weird watching him do the laundry, so I grab a towel. “Do you have to get going? Don’t feel like you have to finish the load.”
    “You sure? I hate to leave a mess, but I do really have to get back to the other clinic.”
    “It’s fine.” I’m not used to having help anyway.
    “Okay, but I’ve already rebooked my client, and she paid before going in, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
    “Thank you! You didn’t have to do that.”
    He smiles and takes a pile of sheets. “Just the way I do things. Nice meeting you.”
    “You too, Blake.” On the way back to reception, I see he’s cleaned the room and remade the bed for the next therapist. He’s considerate too. None of the other therapists give a crap about taking payments or rebooking their own clients—never mind doing a load of laundry or making a bed.
    I wonder if he’s single. I get back to reception with a smile.
    “You met Blake, I take it?”
    “Yup.” I double-check to make sure he’s really gone before I grin at Phyllis, expecting a moment of bonding over his cuteness.
    Instead, she frowns. “You know we’re not allowed to date other employees, right?”
    “Oh. I didn’t know that.”
    “Yeah. So don’t even go there.”
    Well then. That moment was squashed like a