Just a touch away, p.6
Just a Touch Away, page 6
“Okay,” Hannah said. “If you don’t like my doormat, get something else. Just not one that’ll make visitors feel as if they’re perceived as a hostile army trying to invade our castle.” Without waiting for a reply, she took another hearty bite and disappeared down the hall.
“Hey!” Winter called after her. “Half of those cupcakes are mine!”
“I thought you hated cupcakes?” Hannah’s voice drifted around the corner.
“No, just parties.”
“Well, then you’d better hurry before they’re gone.”
Winter took a step inside the apartment, then remembered the discarded doormat. Sighing, she stomped back, removed the tape, and let the mat flop down in front of the door. Just for now.
* * *
Hannah’s sessions with Benny always followed the same routine. They spent twenty minutes in each of his favorite cuddling positions, starting with Stargazing, then progressing to spooning, and ending with the Koala in a Tree. The familiar structure of their sessions helped him relax, and Hannah didn’t mind at all. In fact, it was nice to cuddle with a client who knew exactly what he wanted, and she was grateful that Benny had agreed to keep seeing her and dealt so well with the change of location.
When his time was up, she left the room and waited in the hall so he could change from his comfy cuddle outfit to his street clothes.
“Would you like one more hug before you go?” she asked when he joined her. She always asked, never expecting him to read the subtle hints of her body language or, worse, hugging him out of the blue.
He nodded and moved in immediately.
Hannah wrapped her arms around him with firm, steady pressure. She carefully kept her hands flat on his back instead of adding a light caress.
Over her five years as a professional cuddler, she’d had several clients on the autism spectrum. All were as different as her neurotypical clients, and so were their needs. For Benny, a touch that was too gentle felt almost as if he were getting burned, while a firm one felt grounding.
He murmured a quiet, “Hmm, nice,” and gave one final squeeze before letting go. “Same time next week?”
“Yes, of course.” She always reserved the four o’clock slot on Thursdays for Benny, knowing he liked routine.
“Great. Thanks. See you then.”
She opened the door for him, and he stepped toward it—then paused.
“Hey! How did that…? It was a different one when I got here.” He pointed at the doormat.
Hannah craned her neck so she could see it.
Once again, her cheerful and welcoming doormat was gone. In its place was a simple brown mat with black letters that said: Welcome-ish. Depends on who you are.
A chuckle tried to bubble up Hannah’s chest. That was so typical Winter! “Um, don’t take it personally. My roommate is the my-home-is-my-castle type.”
“I totally get it.” Benny laughed. “I need one like that.”
Maybe she should gift him the first one Winter had bought, which was now hidden under the sink.
Benny headed out, and she picked up the welcome mat before closing the door behind him.
She tiptoed down the hall and paused in front of Winter’s office, which she had nicknamed the ISS—International Space Station—because of all the high-end tech stuff it housed.
For once, the rat-a-tat-tat of Winter’s keyboard didn’t drift through the door. Was Winter even home, or had she fled the scene after once again replacing Hannah’s doormat?
Hannah leaned forward and pressed her ear to the door. She couldn’t hear any voices, so Winter didn’t seem to be on a Zoom call or on the phone with a client. Should she knock? Or wait until Winter stepped out for some cof—
The door swung open.
Caught in the act, Hannah pitched forward.
A warm chest and strong arms broke her fall before she could have a painful encounter with the floor—Winter’s chest and arms. Of course, she hadn’t expected anyone else’s body parts. She just hadn’t expected them to be so nice and comfy when Winter was usually so cool and unyielding.
The pleasant feeling lasted only a second or two, then Winter cleared her throat and shoved her back, holding her at arm’s length with both hands on Hannah’s shoulders. Her glacier-blue eyes narrowed as she squinted at her. “What on earth are you doing?”
“Um…” Dazed, Hannah held up the doormat as if that explained everything. “We really have to stop meeting like this.”
Winter ignored the doormat. Her gaze roved over Hannah’s body instead. “Are those…fluffy pajamas? Didn’t you just have a meeting with a client?”
Hannah had forgotten that she was still wearing her light pink fleece pajamas. She couldn’t very well tell Winter that they were her work clothes or that she’d put them on because Benny enjoyed the way the fabric felt. It irked her that she couldn’t just blurt it out. She was proud of what she did for a living. But Winter was clever. If Hannah told her she was a professional cuddler, she would put two and two together and figure out Jules had been her client.
Hannah wasn’t ready for that—not only because she wanted to protect Jules’s privacy but also because she had a feeling all hell would break loose. “He already left,” she said, hoping Winter would assume she had changed into her pajamas afterward. She lifted the doormat higher and hid behind it as if it were a shield. “Welcome-ish? That’s the best you could do?”
“It was either that or one that said, Unless you’re Amazon, pizza, or Ryan Reynolds, go away. And I much prefer Blake Lively to Reynolds, so…” Winter gestured at the doormat Hannah held.
“Oh, I don’t know, I kinda like bo—” Abruptly, Hannah snapped her mouth shut. Her brain had needed a few seconds to catch up with what Winter had just said. She hadn’t thought anything of it at first, because most of her friends constantly commented on the hotness of people of all genders.
For some reason—probably because professional cuddlers needed to be open to snuggling with anyone—her chosen profession seemed to attract plenty of bi and pansexual people, like Max and her, and people who, like Valentina, refused to “do labels” and loved whoever they wanted. Tammy, who jokingly referred to herself as the “token straight person” in their friend group, was the only exception.
Of course, Winter might be talking about who was the better actor, but something in her tone told Hannah she didn’t just admire Blake for her acting chops. Had Winter tried to say that she found Blake hotter than her husband—and women more attractive in general?
Come to think of it… When Heather had called them “fellow lesbians” yesterday, Winter hadn’t protested. She had only dropped the doormat when Heather had assumed they were a couple.
Thanks a lot for that ego boost, Ms. Sullivan.
“So,” Hannah said slowly, “you’re…?”
“A lesbian? Yeah.” Winter straightened in the doorway. Her shoulders slanted forward as if bracing herself for a negative reaction.
Hannah put on the most serious face she could muster. “No, I meant, are you a Gossip Girl fan?”
For a second, Winter’s aloof expression wavered as she blinked at her.
Hannah burst out laughing, then couldn’t stop. She bent over and clutched her sides. “Oh my God,” she wheezed out, “you should see your face!”
Winter glowered at her, which only made Hannah laugh harder.
Finally, she managed to rein herself in. “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I grew up in a family where teasing was our love language. Um, not that I love…um…I mean…”
Somehow, Winter managed to convey that she was rolling her eyes without actually doing so. “Oh, please! Stop scrutinizing every word you say to me just because you now know I’m gay. You’re not. You’re as straight as a board. I get it.”
“Um, actually…” Should she tell her? Yes, she decided. It was bad enough that she couldn’t tell Winter about her job, so why would she keep her sexual orientation a secret too? “I’m not.”
“That’s what I just said.”
“No, I mean, I’m not straight. I’m pan.”
“Pan?” Winter drew out the word.
Hannah nodded. “It means I’m attracted to people of all genders. Kindness and a great sense of humor do it for me, not the body parts attached to them. Although, of course, an attractive body doesn’t hurt.” Her gaze strayed to the undone top button of Winter’s white button-down, which offered a peek at smooth skin.
No, no, no. Just because she was attracted to people of all genders didn’t mean she was attracted to all people—and certainly not to this one. She’s icy, not hot, remember? All it would get you is frostbite. Hannah quickly looked back up to Winter’s face.
“Thanks.” Winter’s aloof mask and her sarcastic tone returned. “I know what pansexual means. I just didn’t expect you…” She waved her hand. “Forget it. We were talking about the doormat.”
Hannah looked down at the mat that hung forgotten in her grasp. “Right. I appreciate the humor, Winter, really, but I’d prefer a welcome mat, not a welcome-ish mat.”
“So this still isn’t touchy-feely enough for you?” Winter asked.
“Well, it’s not going to make my clients feel all warm and fuzzy inside, that’s for sure. How about we come up with a compromise?”
Winter eyed her skeptically. “Putting a little heart sticker above the i in welcome-ish?”
“Um, I don’t think that would make much of a difference.” Maybe they needed to get back to the basics. “Can I have your phone for a second?”
The line above the bridge of Winter’s nose deepened as if Hannah had asked for her firstborn. “Why?”
“Because these”—Hannah patted her pajamas—“don’t have pockets, so I don’t have mine, and I know yours is never far from you.”
Winter reached back into her office with one long arm and snatched up her phone. She hesitated, then unlocked it and handed it over.
“Thanks.” Hannah cradled it carefully, aware that she didn’t have the money to replace the expensive device should she accidentally drop and break it. She tapped the browser icon. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Black.”
“No one’s favorite color is black.”
“Mine is.”
Hannah sent her a doubtful look. “Is it even a color?”
Winter shrugged. “Technically, it’s a shade, but it’s considered a color when it comes to doormat negotiations.”
Her poker face didn’t waver, her expression as serious as Jules’s had been most of the time, but a playful glint seemed to light her eyes from within.
So her reluctant roommate wasn’t always such an aloof grump. She could actually be kinda cute. Who would have thought?
“Okay,” Hannah said, “then what’s your second-favorite color?”
Winter opened her mouth to answer.
“Other than gray,” Hannah quickly added.
Winter snapped her mouth shut, then seemed to think about it for a moment. “Blue.”
Hannah did a quick search, scrolled through a dozen images of doormats, then finally tapped on one and held it out to Winter.
It was a plain midnight-blue welcome mat, without any hilarious phrases, heartfelt greetings, or decorative elements on it.
“I know it’s kind of…”
“Adequate,” Winter finished just as Hannah said, “Boring.” She took the phone from Hannah’s grasp, and her thumbs flew over the screen in rapid succession. Finally, she looked up with a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Bought.”
And just like that, the Great Doormat War had been ended. While it wasn’t the unconditional surrender Hannah had hoped for, she could live with a draw for the sake of a peaceful cohabitation.
Winter pocketed her phone and pushed past her as if on an urgent mission.
“Where are you going?” Hannah asked.
“Getting my other doormat from where you hid it under the sink,” Winter answered over her shoulder. “I’m putting it in front of my office door.”
Oh no. If her clients glanced to the left while heading to her cuddling studio in the den, they would still glimpse the doormat that proclaimed reading it was enough social interaction for the day.
“Great idea.” Hannah forced a cheerful tone.
Winter paused in front of the sink and gave her a wary look. “You don’t really think that, do you?”
“Yes, of course I do. It would be a pity letting the other doormats go to waste. In fact…” Hannah ambled toward the front door. “I assume you’ve hidden my all-are-welcome one with the pink hearts behind the potted plant again? I’ll put it right before the sliding door to the den. You don’t mind having it in the living room, do you?”
A low growl came from the kitchen.
“What did you say? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Hannah walked back down the hall and stuck her head around the corner to the kitchen to give Winter a questioning look.
“I said forget about the damn doormats.” Winter banged shut the cabinet under the sink. “Who the hell has doormats inside their apartment anyway?”
“Right,” Hannah said with a faux earnest nod. “That would be total overkill.”
Winter strode to her office. In passing, she shot Hannah a frosty glare that said she knew exactly what Hannah was doing.
Hannah struggled not to let a grin show. Had she won the Great Doormat War after all?
“Finally we’re in agreement.” Winter paused in the doorway to her office and turned back toward Hannah. “I’m sure you’ll also agree that since we’re replacing the welcome mat, we should also replace the greenery in front of the apartment door. Those exotic…whatever they are”—she waved her hand in the direction of the entrance and the flamingo plants on the other side of the door—“don’t fit our new classically plain doormat.”
“Um, I guess.”
“Great. I thought you’d see it my way. That’s why I also ordered two bunny ears when I got the blue doormat.”
“Bunny ears?” Hannah had no idea what kind of plant that was, but it didn’t sound like the kind Winter would like…if she even liked any type of plant.
“Don’t worry,” Winter said. “They’re low maintenance. I only had time for a quick look at the website, but it said they’re ideal for cactus newbies.” She stepped back, and the door clicked shut between them.
Cactus? She was joking….right?
Damn. Hannah stared at the closed office door. She should have known Winter wouldn’t just back down and admit defeat.
Then the humor of the situation overcame her, and she burst out laughing. She went to the kitchen and placed the welcome-ish mat next to its companion under the sink. One thing was sure: the next eighty-seven days would not be boring.
Chapter 7
When Winter’s stomach growled for the third time, she paused in her typing and glanced at her watch, then did a double take.
She had worked through lunch, and now it was five thirty on a Friday, when most other people had already left work.
Another half hour and she would be done with the competitor analysis for an e-scooter company. Then she would get herself a burger from one of the food carts on Pioneer Square and explore the neighborhood. Today was day six of her temporary living arrangement, and she still hadn’t found the time to see if there was a good spot to take her camera for some nighttime photography.
When she stepped out of her office to get another coffee, the dryer beeped across the hall, signaling that its cycle was complete.
Winter groaned. Of course it was beeping. It was always beeping.
For some reason, Hannah seemed to be washing sheets every single day. Once they were folded, she took them to her den, where she’d set up her office. What the hell was she doing in there?
Now that Winter knew what Hannah looked like, she had googled her again and had found a website with an outdated design that made her groan. The long-winded text on the homepage had revealed that Hannah was a licensed massage therapist practicing Swedish massage, deep tissue massage, hot stones, and cupping, whatever that was.
Winter could easily imagine her as a massage therapist, Hannah’s hands—small and soft yet strong—kneading tense muscles and gliding across bare skin…
Ugh. Stop it! Winter drove the disturbing image from her mind with a firm shake of her head. At this point, she was almost certain Hannah wasn’t her half sister, but she hadn’t found a way to prove it once and for all, so she had no business daydreaming about her hands.
She didn’t think massage was what Hannah was doing in the den anyway. Otherwise, she and her friends would have lugged a massage table or a special chair into the apartment on moving day. Besides, Hannah had mentioned she needed the couch for her work.
Hannah’s profession was as tough to figure out as the woman herself, and that was frustratingly unsettling to Winter. She liked putting people in categories—enemy or ally, useless or helpful, failure or success—yet Hannah didn’t neatly fit into any boxes.
Since they had moved into the apartment, she continued to surprise Winter. First, she had refused to sell her half of the building, then she hadn’t given in when it came to their doormat negotiations. She clearly had much more backbone than Winter had given her credit for.
Then Hannah had come out to her as pansexual. That revelation had thrown her for a loop, even though it really shouldn’t matter to her at all.
So what? Eighty-six days, then she could hire a property manager and have them deal with Hannah and the tenants, while she put as many stay out doormats in front of her apartment as she wanted.
She stabbed at the power button of her espresso machine and tapped the filter holder against her thigh while she waited for the machine to heat up.
“Can we do two hours next time?” a deep voice drifted down the hall from the living room.
“Of course,” Hannah answered, her tone warm. “Did you have anything in particular in mind?”
They moved down the hall toward the front door as they talked, and Winter stayed where she was, leaning against the counter so they wouldn’t see her. She wasn’t eavesdropping—just being a good roommate by not interrupting while Hannah was with a client. If she accidentally overheard something that helped her finally figure out what Hannah did for a living, that would be a nice bonus of being polite, right?
