Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“They disrupt the gut biome,” he says, leaning in. “That’s where most disease starts. You wouldn’t believe the inflammation I see in people’s energy fields.”
Energy fields. Of course.
“Mm-hmm.” I chew slowly, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
“I’ve actually been working with a few clients who had chronic migraines, and I was able to release the tension with a combination of deep tissue and Reiki,” he adds. “I could show you sometime.”
I swallow. “You want to wave your hands over my face and call it therapy?”
He grins like I’ve just flirted with him. “It’s not waving. It’s intuitive energy channeling. Most people don’t realize their pain is emotional.”
“Right,” I say. “Emotional rib pain. Classic.”
He chuckles. “You’re funny. But seriously, your posture could use some work. I can tell from the way your shoulders slope. You carry stress like a weight across your clavicles.”
I blink. I believe he just insulted me. “Thanks for noticing.”
He raises both hands in front of him. “Hey, I’m just saying. Maybe you didn’t get anything out of Reiki in a chair this afternoon, but I know you’d feel amazing after a session of my deep-tissue Reiki. I’ve got this heated table, I use essential oils, ambient soundscapes—really good for nervous system regulation.”
I sip my wine. “And here I thought we were just here for the beef.”
He chuckles again, like I’m being charming instead of sarcastic. “I like your energy. You’ve got a lot going on under the surface.”
Oh God. Here we go.
“Tell me,” I say, deciding to mess with him. “What color is my aura?”
He studies me for a moment. “I see some violet and gold. Definitely empathic. But there’s a storm of red and gray. Some blockage around the heart chakra.”
“Could be indigestion,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I down the rest of my wine. If I’m going to make it through this dinner, I’m going to need a refill. Or three.
“Did you even let yourself be open to the energy?” he asks.
“I was sitting in a chair with hairspray clogging my sinuses,” I say, sipping my wine. “I’m sorry I didn’t get anything out of the non-touching massage.”
He chuckles, like I’m the punchline to some cosmic joke. “It’s subtle. Most people don’t feel it right away. It takes time to break through all the blocks.”
“Or maybe there’s nothing to break through,” I say. “Maybe I’m just one of those lost causes. Dead inside and resistant to miracles.”
“You’re not dead inside,” he says, tilting his head with that annoyingly earnest expression. “You’re just out of alignment. Your sacral chakra is tight as hell.”
I snort. “Are you diagnosing my sex life now?”
He grins. “Not unless you want me to.”
I narrow my eyes, but I’m already smiling, damn it. “Don’t you ever get tired of being so…Zen?”
“Nope.” He reaches for a slice of bread. Apparently gluten is okay. “My work keeps me grounded. Touch heals more than flesh. It calms the nervous system, moves stagnation. You wouldn’t believe the trauma people hold in their hips.”
“I believe it,” I say dryly. “Especially after this dress fitting.”
He laughs. “You’re such a skeptic.”
“I’m realistic.”
He purses his lips. “You’re guarded.”
“Says the man who probably burns sage in his apartment before dates.”
He winks. “Gotta clear the energy of the last girl.”
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t knock it,” he says. “You’d be surprised how much bad mojo people bring into your space. That’s why I only eat organic food. It’s not just health. It’s vibration.”
I squint at him. “So your carrots have good vibes?”
“Exactly.”
I swirl my wine and glance around. “Well, these fingerling potatoes are singing.”
He leans in. “You know, you’re more receptive than you think.”
“And you’re more persistent than I expected.”
“That’s because I like you,” he says simply.
I raise an eyebrow. “Even though I think your Reiki is expensive hand-waving that rich girls are willing to pay for so they can dish about how amazing they feel at the club?”
“Especially because of that,” he says, smiling. “You challenge me.”
“And you like a challenge?”
He shrugs. “Most men prefer someone who challenges them.”
“Really? I thought most men preferred women who fall into bed with them.”
He laughs then. A real laugh. “You’ve got me all wrong, Tabitha. Have I come on to you once? Other than a brief kiss last night?”
I blink. “Well…no.”
“There you go.”
“So if I told you I want you to take me somewhere private and fuck the daylights out of me right now, you’d turn me down?”
His dark eyes twinkle. “Well, I am a man, after all.”
I scoff. “See what I mean?”
“But that wouldn’t be a challenge. And I wouldn’t respect you the way I do now.”
“I see. If I sleep with you, I lose your respect.”
He shakes his head. “You’re twisting my words around.”
“Am I?” I lean in. “You say you like a challenge—that most men like a challenge—yet you admit you’d take me up on the offer, which I haven’t made, by the way.”