Page 41 of Do You Take This Man

“That’s my signature color,” I protested.

“It’s a publicly available shade.”

I motioned to his sneakers tossed on the floor. “No one is even going to see your feet.”

“Who sees yours besides me?”

Laura and Mai exchanged a look.

“Don’t encourage him. He’s not cute.”

Laura waved her hand at me. Mai and her daughter had the same smile. “I think he’s kind of cute.”

“Thank you,” Lear said with an elaborate bow. “She’s so mean to me.”

“No, she likes you,” Mai said, fanning my big toe after the first coat of polish. “I can tell.”

Lear pointedly ignored me, joining in the conversation with Laura and Mai. “You think so? She’s kind of difficult to read.”

“RJ?” Mai waved him off and expertly moved the brush over my toenails, never a drop or line of polish touching my skin. “RJ is easy to read. She’s a softy on the inside.”

Lear leaned forward conspiratorially. “See, I think you’re right, but she doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“I am sitting right here,” I said, arms crossed. “Why are you butting in on my pedicure time?”

Lear grinned. “You invited me.”

“You invited yourself.”

Mai handed Laura the bottle, and she began painting Lear’s toes, which I begrudgingly had to admit were nice. After his cold shower was the first time I’d ever seen him barefoot, and though I wasn’t a foot person, it annoyed me that even his feet were handsome.

“Let this dry,” Mai instructed. “Don’t wiggle your toes while you flirt with this boy.”

“I am not flirting with him.”

“Lies, lies, lies,” she said with a laugh over her shoulder as she walked away.

Lear watched Laura, following her quick, precise movements before swinging his gaze to me. The smirk on full display. “She thinks you’re flirting with me.”

“She’s inhaled too many nail polish fumes,” I said, glancing at my overturned phone on my lap and suppressing a grin.

“She comes almost every other week. You should come with her again,” Laura said.

Traitor.

Lear dropped his smirk and just gave Laura a smile. “Her nails always look really nice, and this was very relaxing. Maybe I will.”

I risked a glance at him again, though he was looking at Laura working. He looked good in casual clothes.

His eyes were closed, head resting against the chair. “You’re staring at me.”

“I am not.”

Lear rolled his head to the side. “You can’t help yourself.”

“Believe me. I can.”

He laughed, his flat stomach moving with the force of it, and when he caught me looking, he met my eyes, his lips in a playful smirk.