Preacher's Wifey by Dishan Washington Page A

my problems—both good and bad.
    â€œMrs. Ward, will you be going into the steam room prior to your treatment today, or do you prefer to get straight into the pampering?” Brittany, the host, asked.
    I considered my options. My hair was already pretty much a mess, anyway, so a little steam might do me some good. It would definitely be good for my skin.
    â€œI think I will sit a few minutes.”
    â€œOkay, well, since you are regular, you know how it works. I’ll let Amanda know you are going to sit for a few before you are ready for your massage.”
    â€œSounds perfect,” I said as I walked into the ladies’ locker room. I selected a locker and placed my purse inside. I undressed down to my panties and bra, hung my clothes on the hanger provided, put on the robe and slippers, closed and locked the locker, and placed the key in the pocket of my robe. I pulled my hair high up on my head into a ponytail holder and walked out.
    The steam room was just a few doors down. I hardly ever went in there, because no one seemed to ever be in there at this time of day to chat with, and I had a phobia of passing out and no one being around to help me. It was a crazy notion, but most phobias were. Today I needed to cleanse my pores and let the mist refresh me, and just maybe some of my personal steam would be left inside.
    I opened the door, and a gust of vapor slapped me in the face. Hardly able to see, I walked to the bench and sat down. I stretched my legs out and was just about to lean my head back against the wall when I heard a voice. His voice.
    â€œSteam does the body good, huh?”
    I sat up and squinted in an effort to try to see him better in the midst of the haze.
    â€œSeth?”
    â€œYes, it’s me. In the flesh.” He laughed.
    â€œWha . . . wha . . . what are you doing in here?” I asked, half excited and half annoyed. Didn’t this man know I was trying to run away from him?
    â€œYou always stutter when you get around me. Or do you do that around other people as well?”
    â€œThat is not important,” I shot back. “What are you doing in this steam room? I thought you had a meeting.”
    I could still barely see him, but I saw him plainly when he got up and walked over to me. Now he was in full view. He sat down so close to me, his leg touched mine. I closed my eyes, because I did not even want to see the damage the heat from his touch had done to my thigh.
    â€œYou want the truth?”
    â€œYou think I want a lie?”
    â€œCan you handle the truth?”
    â€œI guess there is only one way for me to find out.”
    â€œFair enough,” he said and reached for my hand. “The truth is, I did not want to wait until next week to see you. I want to spend the rest of this afternoon with you.”
    â€œHow did you know I would be here?”
    â€œYou told me, remember?”
    â€œNo, not here, as in the spa. How did you know I would be in the steam room?”
    â€œI gave the girl at the front desk a nice little tip to tell me what services you were going to be having. When you went in to change, she told me you were coming in here.”
    I was infuriated. What if he were a stalker?
    â€œI will speak to her about that. I do not appreciate her telling you without my permission where I would be. That jeopardizes my safety, among a lot of other things that are wrong with it.”
    â€œDid you know the girl who checked you in was hired not long ago as a part-time waitress at the bar?”
    â€œNo. But what does that have to do anything?”
    â€œWell, for one, she was there working earlier and saw us having lunch together. You probably did not see her, just as I did not see her, because I was too engrossed in our conversation. But, anyway, she saw us.” In my mind that was still beside the point. It flattered me in a small way that he would go as far as paying someone to find out my whereabouts, but it was also kind of