Page 12 of Falling For My Assistant

“Hi, Mr. Stephens,” one of the ladies said, stopping next to him. “Are you here for a pedicure today?”

“You know what,” he said, looking at Erin, then back at her. “I think I will. Do you have a chair for me?”

She pointed to the chair next to Erin. “That one is open. I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you, Celine,” he replied, going around Erin to occupy the open chair. He slipped off his shoes and socks and tucked them next to the chair, then sat down, turning on the massage.

“You get pedicures?” Erin asked, leaning on the arm of the chair.

“I do. Blair always complimented me on my nice toenails.” He tugged his pant legs up as far as he could, waiting for Celine to start the water.

He pointed to the silver. “Should I paint my toenails with that?”

She laughed and shook her head. “No.”

“Aww, why not? Not my color?” he asked, reaching for the bottle. He held it next to his cheek.

“No, I think you need a soft pink,” Erin said. There was a polish rack with a nice assortment, and she reached out, grabbing a pink that looked almost sheer.

“Here you go,” she said.

“Passion,” he said, reading the label. “Fitting. I am very passionate.”

He caught her gaze, and her eyes warmed, both of them back in the studio, their bodies pressed together.

She was so warm.

“Ready, Mr. Stephens?” Celine asked, dragging him back to the present.

“Yes, I am. Here,” he said, handing her the bottle. “Today, we polish.”

Celine looked at the bottle, then back at him, making Erin giggle. “Really?”

“Yup.” He stuck his toes into the water and flinched.

“Too hot?” she asked. He nodded, and she turned on cold, letting it mix until it was just perfect before she got to work on his feet.

“So, Erin, tell me how your Christmas went. I don't think we were able to talk about it,” he said, removing his phone from his pocket when it went off. Denying the call, he locked it and shoved it back in his pocket.

He looked over just in time to see her squirming in the chair.

“Are you okay?”

“My feet—” She sucked in a breath, the air escaping on a gasp. “My feet are so ticklish.”

She pressed her hands against her face, keeping the laughter in. Once her feet were released, she let go, taking a deep breath.

“What was the question?” she asked, sliding her feet back in the water.

“How was your Christmas? You went home, right?” he asked, looking down at Celine when she said something to him.

“I did,” she replied. She grabbed her phone and unlocked it, showing him a couple of photos.

“Boston was beautiful,” she said, scrolling through. “Oh, that’s my mom and dad. You don’t—”

“No, show me,” he said, leaning over to see.

“Don't judge, okay?” She showed him the pictures of the three of them, dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweaters he’d ever seen.