Best Man - Katy Evans Page 0,30

like Pine-Sol mixed with urine. My stomach turns.

“Um. Thanks.” As I shake the snow off my clothes, pull off my hat, and start to blink in the bright fluorescent light and bare surroundings, it hits.

The screaming, stabbing, worse-than-death pain in my feet. It’s like fire.

“Ow!” Still wearing one flip-flop, I hobble toward a bench in the center of the room and collapse on it.

My feet are bright crimson, redder than the worst sunburn. My toes are purple, almost the same color as my pedicure. But that’s nothing compared to the throbbing, burning pain.

Miles walks over to me and inspects them. “Seriously?”

“Look at my feet.” I hold them up so he can see them. “It’s a real medical condition! That’s why I hate the snow. I can’t go out in it, or…ow!”

Tears of agony spring to my eyes. I pull my feet up and grab them, trying to rub away the pain, but my hands are burning, too. I’d had gloves somewhere in the back of my car. Why didn’t I put those on?

“You’re a total mess, Cupcake,” he mutters, sitting down beside me. “Come on. Give ’em here.”

I straighten. He can’t mean that. I mean, he’s OCD. He doesn’t like to touch or be touched. “What?”

He lifts one of my feet, so I have to turn a little, and then he places both of them on his jean clad thighs. He strips off the flip-flop and tosses it on the ground.

He lowers his hands to cover them. His hands are big and so warm.

“What are you—”

“This okay?”

He’s…warming up my feet. Okay.

No, more than okay. Aaron’s never done anything like this. The last time I had a bout of Raynaud’s, it was during the honeymoon period of our relationship, when we were each pretending to like the things the other did, so we could show each other how chill and fun we were. We’d gone tubing up at Winter Park and I’d nearly died on the first ride down, when my glove came off. He’d just laughed at me, told me to go sit in front of the fire at the lodge, and went off to do some skiing.

“Oh. Yes. I just didn’t know you were okay with touching.”

He shrugs. “Seemed like a matter of life or death. Besides, I’ll do anything to stop you from bitching.” He gives me a little sideways eyebrow-raise.

“Anything? Hmm,” I tease.

His mouth quirks in a half-smile.

He slowly presses against my arch, working into the muscle. He isn’t just warming my feet. He’s massaging them, working in slow, rhythmic motions that make my heart speed up in my chest. Then he works deep into each little toe.

This goes on for the next five minutes. He’s extremely thorough and careful. I never thought I had a foot fetish until now. I can’t help feeling an odd buzz in my skin, my stomach, and flutters in my chest somewhere in the place where I should have a heart but suddenly have a flapping bird instead.

My feet are fine now. More than fine. They’re warm and buzzing, like parts of me that probably shouldn’t be. My breath hitches, and my thoughts threaten to return to that night, when he and I—

No. I can’t do that.

“That feels good. Are you a professional?” I ask, to lighten the mood.

He blinks, and whatever spell he was under breaks. He lifts my feet up and slides out from under them, dropping them unceremoniously to the floor. “I think they’re good now.”

“Yes. They’re much better. Thanks.”

I pull my legs up under me and sit crisscross applesauce on the bench as I look around. There isn’t much to look at besides the things Miles mentioned—the lobby is bare except for the bench, a rack of brochures for nearby attractions, a plastic dispenser of free real estate magazines, trash and recycling bins, and a television on a bracket hanging from the ceiling…and oh! A coffee station.

I guess I didn’t notice it first because the smell of urine and cleaning solution is so much stronger than the coffee aroma.

I nearly trip over my still-sore feet, trying to get to the little service. The lip of the pot is cracked and there isn’t much left, but I grab a Styrofoam cup and fill it. I take a sip. It’s awful and wonderful, all at once. I let the bitter taste settle on my tongue and feel the warmth seep into my bones.

Miles has been conducting what looks like a detailed surveillance of the place. He’s tried all the