Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“How do you paint someone’s toes when their entire body is shaking?” I ask the woman still going to town on my feet.
“Practice.” She grins at me.
I shut the chair off and watch the woman as she grabs a metal cheese grater from her bucket and scrapes it across my heel, back and forth, back and forth.
Interesting.
“You have lots of calluses.”
Yeah, which is a good thing because if I didn’t, my shoes would hurt like hell, and I’d have blisters.
“Don’t shave them off. I should probably keep ’em.” I grimace ’cause that just sounds so beyond idiotic. “Sorry. Um, I’m an athlete and, um, don’t want my feet to get blisters.”
She plonks the cheese grater thingy into a jar of blue liquid.
I can’t tell if she’s annoyed as she plunges my leg back into the water and begins scrubbing my legs with grainy, sandy goo.
“What is that?”
“Sugar scrub,” Tess explains. “It’s exfoliating so your legs are soft.”
I glance down at her legs, which are soft and smooth and tan and long. She has them sunk into the water the same way mine are as the woman doing her pedicure rubs them up and down with the palms of her hands.
I look a little too long.
Clear my throat.
The technician takes both my feet out of the water then, patting them dry with a towel before filing my toenails. That tickles too—though not as much as that rock thing did on the pads of my feet.
My nails get filed. My legs get rubbed. Maybe this isn’t all torture.
Tess’s get painted the light pink color she’d picked out. It wasn’t the color she’d shown me but pink all the same. Cute toes.
Cute feet.
I’m not a feet guy but hers are pretty fucking adorable.
She wiggles them when she catches me looking.
CHAPTER 10
TESS
I’M SO USED TO BEING SINGLE THAT I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT I’D DO WITH A BOYFRIEND. DO I WALK IT? DOES IT NEED TO BE FED? I’M NOT READY.
Am I imagining it, or is Drew checking me out?
No.
He can’t be, not possible.
But why isn’t it possible? Miranda’s voice chimes in like my conscience, whispering in my ear. You’re freaking hot and a good catch.
I wiggle my toes when I catch him watching my feet, and he quickly looks away as if caught staring at my ass—which I honestly wish he would do. Depending on the dude, I don’t mind being sexually objectified a little, ha ha.
Once his feet are done, he waits for me on the couches in the lobby. When my toes finish drying, he rises when I walk over, heading to the cashier at a makeshift counter at the front with his wallet out.
He hands the lady his credit card before I can so much as dig in my crossbody bag, and I put my hand on his forearm to protest.
“What are you doing? I was going to pay.”
“You don’t have to pay because I just did.”
“But I’m the one who forced you to come here.”
“You didn’t force me to get my feet done.” He taps the card on the counter when the woman hands it back before sliding it back into his black leather wallet.
We can’t stand here arguing, but I feel like an asshole having him pay for my feet. I had gel put on them, which is more expensive than regular polish. If I’d had known…
“Stop worrying about it and just say thank you.”
“I…” I swallow. “Thank you.”
I can’t very well admit that no guy has ever paid for my nails before, nor can I admit that I’ve never sat side by side with one to get them done, and it was an oddly satisfying experience.
“You’re welcome.” He pushes through the front door, holding it open for me and the two women just arriving.
I feel self-conscious walking in front of him to my car, brain racking over where to go from here. We’ve only killed two hours with more in the day to spare before our friends get home from work and the bachelor party festivities begin. So what next?
What now?
What is there to do in this town?
The beer garden? Eh, no, we’ll be drinking enough tonight. There’s no need to start so early in the day.
The zoo? Eh.
Lunch? Possibly.
Shopping? Absolutely not.
I don’t want him to think of me as a girl who shops on a weekend instead of doing something practical with my time even though I’m totally the girl who likes to shop on the weekends. I also enjoy going to the library, but we won’t get into that. Let’s just say I have a lot of free time on my hands…
Miniature golfing?
Hmm, that could work. It would certainly keep us busy, and we’ll probably laugh.
“Fancy a Putt-Putt?” I ask with a little laugh, climbing into the car and strapping myself in.
“Putt-Putt?”
I can see by the look on his face that he has no clue what I’m talking about. Or at least, it’s not registering in his brain.