inside and didn’t see any sign of her, so he moved to the next and saw her kicking off her shoes.
“A nail salon? You gotta be kidding me.” There was no way he could pretend to bump into her inside a freaking nail salon.
She sat in a lounge chair and put her feet in the water.
Dameon stared.
He realized someone inside the shop was watching him, so he pushed inside. Act casual.
“Grace? Is that you?”
With the call of her name, her head shot up. “Dameon?”
“I thought that was you.” Several sets of eyes moved his way. There was a woman sitting at a counter with her hand inside some kind of light. One of the employees wheeled a stool by Grace’s chair and adjusted the water pouring in.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I was, ah . . .” He pointed a thumb out the door. “Just at the . . .” Shit, he had no idea what was in the shopping center to say he’d been at. “So this was your thing today?”
Suddenly it was Grace in the hot seat. Her cheeks turned red. “It’s important.”
“Do you have an appointment?” The question came from one of the employees.
“I’m sorry, what?” The question caught him off guard.
“An appointment.” He shook his head.
It was Dameon’s turn to feel heat in his cheeks.
The woman getting her nails painted started to laugh.
He looked up at Grace, who was hiding a smile.
“I can sit you next to your friend,” the employee insisted.
“I’m sorry. I don’t . . .”
“She wants to know if you want a pedicure,” Grace explained.
God no.
He looked around, completely out of place. “Uhm.”
“Well, you can’t just stand there,” Grace told him.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
Grace looked at the empty seat beside her.
Son of a bitch.
“Yeah, okay.” Someone somewhere was cutting his man card in half.
The woman smiled, lifted the armrest on the chair, and encouraged him to sit.
He toed off his shoes before slipping into the seat.
He noticed Grace’s smile before she removed a remote from a pocket on the side of the chair.
“This is how you spend your lunch hour?” he asked.
“It’s close, and noon is always a good time.”
He started to sit back while the employee turned on the water. That’s when it occurred to him that he needed to take off his socks and roll up his pants. Which had to be the stupidest thing he’d done all year.
Once he knew his dress pants weren’t going to get wet, he put his pale feet in the water. One toe in and he yanked it out. “Hot.”
The employee stuck her whole hand in the water, looked at him with a you gotta be kidding me expression, and then turned the dial.
“It’s cold outside.” And he wasn’t used to taking his shoes off in public places unless he was buying new ones.
The woman at Grace’s chair pulled one of her feet out of the water and started removing the polish from Grace’s toenails.
Dameon tested the water again, deemed it comfortable, and sat back.
“Let me guess. You’ve never done this before?” Grace asked.
“Men don’t do this kind of thing.”
The seat doubled as a massage chair, and Grace’s whole body arched as the roller ran down her spine. Dameon tried not to stare at her chest as it heaved forward.
“I see guys in here all the time,” Grace told him.
“Really?” Because he didn’t know anyone with a penis that had pedicures.
“All the time.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re pulling my leg?”
Grace spoke to the woman doing her toes. “Nell, you get men in here every day, right?”
Nell nodded and smiled.
“So what did you want to talk about?” Grace asked.
Dameon wiggled his toes in the water and pressed a button on his remote. The chair started moving forward, which didn’t seem right. “Uhm . . . how do I get this thing to go back?”
Grace reached over and pressed the right button. The words on the remote were worn off from years of use. “Sit back,” she told him before putting the chair in motion.
Suddenly his body was heaving just like Grace’s. It actually felt kinda good.
He wiggled his shoulders side to side. “That’s not bad.”
“An hour of stress release,” Grace told him as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
He was insanely happy there was zero chance of anyone he knew seeing him in there.
“I’m moving to town,” he announced.
Grace’s eyelids shot open. “You’re what?”
“Mainly weekends. Probably be a few weekdays once things get rolling. Called DWP and had the