“They cut into your skin.”

“Yes.” His lips brushed her right shoulder, and she stiffened in surprise. “W-what’re you doing?”

“I have no idea.”

Sensation tingled through her, making her tremble. “Mac—”

He kissed the indentation on her left shoulder while continuing to massage the other side. “Can I ask you something?”

“If I say yes, will it get you out of here so I can shower?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s the question?”

“Since you hate them so much, do you ever think about having them reduced?”

Turning, she stared at him. “Seriously? That’s your question?”

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have—”

“Every day since sixth grade! I hate them! They’ve totally ruined my life!”

“So, why don’t you . . . you know . . .”

“I don’t have health insurance or thousands of dollars.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It is what it is.” Looking up at him, she said, “May I take a shower now?”

“Yeah, sure.” He turned to go. “I’ll be right out here. If you need me. Again.”

Once the door closed, Maddie dropped the towel and stared into the full-length mirror affixed to the back of the door. Her breasts looked like mini-cantaloupes, her hips were too round and curvy, her belly not quite as flat as it had been before Thomas. Despite backaches, shoulder spasms and a variety of skin issues, she’d learned to live with breasts that developed far too early and gave the teenage boys in her class plenty to obsess about. Some days she wished she could wave a magic wand and wake up with normal-sized breasts. Then maybe every man she encountered would actually focus on her face rather than her chest. A girl could dream.

Maddie stepped into the shower and gasped when the water hit her cuts. Her tears were only partly caused by pain. Just once, one time, she’d like to feel like a normal woman who stood a chance at happiness with a man like Mac.

Just once. . .

Mac wanted to shoot himself for asking that question and upsetting her, but his desire to know everything about her had trumped his better judgment. He sighed when he thought about the deep, red grooves the bra straps had left in her slender shoulders. He wanted to give her the money. She needed it. He had it. If only it was that simple.

That he’d give this woman he’d known only one day thousands of dollars without hesitation and expect nothing in return should’ve scared the hell out of him. Rather, it pleased him to know he might be able to do something like that to make her happy. If she’d let him, that is. A huge “if.”