All the Way (Hot Jocks #2)(15)

The tables we’re on are only about a foot off the floor, and they’re short so they only fit the upper half of your body. When Owen lies down, his knees are bent and his feet are flat on the floor.

“You okay?” he asks, gazing over at me.

I nod and lie back, my feet dangling off the end of the bed. I give my toes a wiggle.

The older woman returns, but this time with a younger coworker. The young woman has black hair that hangs over her shoulders in a thick curtain. She looks appreciatively at Owen before the older woman says something to her in a stern tone.

They both set basins of steaming water in the space at the end of the table. Owen places his feet right in, while the younger woman comes over to help me roll up my pants.

What follows is the most interesting, and honestly one of the best massages I’ve ever had. While my feet are submerged in hot water, my arms, hands, and scalp are massaged. And when hot stones are pressed into the soles of my feet—wow. I can see why Owen comes here.

I hear a grunt from beside me and turn my head, blinking open hazy eyes as I try to make out what I’m seeing. Owen is now lying on his stomach, and the older woman is standing on top of his back. Metal rungs are mounted into the ceiling, and she’s holding on to them as she walks across his spine.

Okay, this is officially weird.

But I’m enjoying myself, and since Owen seems to be too, I roll with it. Also, foot reflexology is pretty awesome, because I swear I can feel it in different parts of my body when the pressure points on my feet are pressed.

After what feels like an eternity, they announce we’re done. I leisurely stretch, opening my eyes.

Owen grunts again and rolls over, slowly rising from the table. “You good?”

I smile at him. “You were right about this having a happy ending. I feel freaking amazing.”

He grins. “I know, right?”

As we put on our shoes, I look over at him. “Why do you keep this place a secret? And let everyone tease you?”

He just shrugs. “Eh. That’s just what the guys do.”

That’s probably true. They’re constantly inventing new ways to give each other shit.

Out in the lobby, Owen hands the woman his credit card, and we’re each given a tiny bottle of water. Owen downs his with one gulp while I take a small sip.

I still feel a little out of it—thanks to my state of total and complete relaxation—as we make our way to his car.

“I’ve been coming here every week that I’m in town for two years. And you’re the first person to ever come with me.”

I feel oddly special, knowing he shared his secret massage place with me.

“You wanna get some food?” he asks, pulling into traffic.

“Sure, that sounds great.”

On the way back to his place, we swing by a sushi place Owen promises is awesome. And when we arrive, carrying our bags of takeout, all the eyes in the living room swing over toward us.

“You’re back,” Elise says, picking up the remove to press PAUSE. “We just started the movie. And we have pizza on the way. You guys want to join us?”

“That’s okay. We picked up our own dinner,” Owen says, holding up the takeout bags.

I smile at Elise. “Thanks, though.”

“So . . . how was it?” Teddy asks, waggling his eyebrows seductively.

“It was amazing.”

Owen’s gray gaze meets mine. “You were a good sport.”

A tingle races down my spine at the appreciative look he’s giving me.

“I’m starving. Come on.”

Just as quickly as that little moment started, it’s gone. Owen’s stomach is apparently calling the shots. He’s always starving, though, so that’s nothing new.

The movie in the living room is restarted, and Owen heads to the kitchen to grab two plates and a stack of napkins. “You want a beer? A glass of wine?” he asks, pausing in front of the fridge.

I shake my head. “I’ve given up alcohol for a little while.”

He cocks his head to the side but doesn’t question me. A silent understanding passes over his face—at least, that’s what I think it is.

Owen grabs two bottles of water from the fridge, and we venture down the hall into the media room where a flat-screen TV is mounted on the wall. He grabs the remote and turns it on. It’s the perfect TV room, so I have no idea why the gang isn’t watching their movie in here, except, I guess there’s more seating in the living room. There’s only one couch in here, which we both settle on.

We load up our plates with spicy tuna, smoked salmon, and shrimp tempura rolls, splitting everything. Owen must have severely overestimated my appetite, because he serves me almost as much as he serves himself. We’re having quite an Asian-inspired date between the foot reflexology and our dinner entrees.

Thankfully, I catch myself before the words leave my mouth—because what? This is so not a date. Owen doesn’t date.

I stuff a bite of sushi into my mouth and chew.

“So, you gave up drinking?” Owen asks around a mouthful of sushi. “That have anything to do with the other night?”

I swallow and give him a sly look. “What do you think? I made a complete ass of myself.”

He shrugs and picks up another piece of sushi with his chopsticks. “We survived.”