They weren’t, but it just illustrated how much he assumed about everything in his life. That he expected something to be there, or for someone to hand him something so he wouldn’t have to tax himself. And now that he was left on his own to handle things . . . he was failing miserably.
It was a rather ugly realization to have about one’s self.
“Oh, wow. Are you okay? You look awfully upset over missing socks.” Taylor moved to his side, her hand stroking down his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just . . . frustrated.” Because I’m helpless and I’m just now starting to realize it. “Sometimes I feel like I have less of a handle on even the smallest things than I’d like to think.”
To his surprise, she gave a little unhappy sigh. “Don’t I know that feeling. Come on.” She took his hand in hers and tugged him toward the couch.
“Where are we going?”
“You are going to sit on the couch and I’m going to give you a nice relaxing foot rub, and we can talk about what’s bothering you.”
“Are you patronizing me?”
“No, if I was patronizing you, I’d probably be making baby coos right now.” She puckered her mouth and made a few kissy faces.
He laughed despite himself and let her lead him to the couch. Once there, she grabbed his leg, sat down on the ottoman, and began to rub his bare foot.
Okay, he wasn’t the type for a foot rub normally, but fuck, that felt nice. Loch’s head fell back and he groaned in pleasant surprise. “How’d you guess that I needed a foot rub?”
“Um, because everyone likes a foot rub?” Her fingers worked his arch expertly, and then she smoothed her hands up and down the length of his foot in a sensation that was both soothing and decidedly erotic. “I know whenever I get super stressed, I like to go out for a pedicure. Someone rubs my feet and makes my toes look cute. It’s a win-win situation.”
“Just promise me I won’t end up with pink toes,” he murmured, eyes still closed so he could enjoy the full sensation of her touch.
“I only use red.”
He opened an eye to glare at her and she giggled, working her hands over his foot again. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“I do like to think so, yeah.” She beamed at him and then dug her fingers into a particularly sensitive spot near his heel and he almost came off the couch with how good it felt. “You wanna talk about what’s freaking you out?”
Loch blew out a frustrated breath. “If I say it out loud, it sounds ridiculous.”
“You’re talking to a woman that spends her free time riding a digital dragon in a game and likes to wear a backpack that looks like a cat. How about you wing it past me?”
His mouth curved in a slight smile. Why was it she always managed to put him at ease, no matter the situation? He was lucky that he was going to have someone like her as his wife. Temporary wife, he amended a moment later. It was much easier to mentally leap in and go forward with his plan if it was just temporary. Then it didn’t seem like insanity as much as gutsiness.
Of course, he had to get Taylor to agree to the marriage, and right now he couldn’t even get her to kiss him, but he was working on that. Slowly.
“Spit it out,” she cajoled. “It’ll make you feel better.”
He sighed. “I’m not going to get away until I do, am I?” Not that he wanted to get away. Not when her fingers were doing such magical things to his feet.
“That’s right! So you might as well say.” She wiggled one of his toes. “This little piggy says spill the beans.”
Loch tugged his foot out of her grip. Undeterred, she grabbed his other foot and began to rub it. She really wasn’t going to let him get away with silence, so he sucked in a breath, braced himself for her laughter, and then said it aloud. “I think . . . I think I’m rather helpless.”
Her brows furrowed, even as her fingers gently kneaded his foot. “Explain?”
“It’s just that . . . I’m nearly thirty years old and I’ve never given any consideration to fending for myself. At home, I have a valet that picks out my clothing and handles my meetings. I have an accountant that handles my money. I have an estate manager that handles my house. I have maids. I have a cook. I have a stable hand that takes care of my horses. I have a driver. I literally do not have to do anything for myself except roll out of bed. And for nearly thirty years, I’ve never had a problem with this. I travel with servants who handle everything normally, but then I come here, by myself, and I’m starting to realize just how . . . sheltered a life I’ve been living.” He snorted. “A thirty-year-old man, sheltered. Imagine. It’s sad.”
She patted his foot. “You don’t have someone to wipe your ass for you. It’s not that bad.”
“Might as well be.”
Taylor rolled her eyes and stood up. She moved forward and instead of sliding away, she sat on his lap, straddling him. “If you’re trying to make me imagine you as some sort of big man-baby, it’s not working.” She shrugged, stroking a hand down his chest. “You have money. You’re privileged, that’s not a lie. If I had tons of money, I’d hire people to do all that stuff for me, too.”
“The problem isn’t that I let people do things for me. The problem is that I let them do everything for me.” But it was getting harder to focus on said problems when Taylor was determined to straddle him, her hips resting directly over his cock.