my feet. With a gentleness that made me tremble, he rolled my leggings up, running his hands up and down my skin, before he took my left foot and examined it. He went to pull it closer to his mouth, but I yanked back, suddenly self-conscious. I had been dancing for hours on end; if my feet stunk, he didn’t need to know.
His hold grew even firmer. “Your foot, Ballerina Girl.”
“Brando!” I pulled even harder, but he refused to let go. “Please.” Even as I said the word, my leg went slack. The look in his eyes pleaded and all of my resistance faded.
Looking up at me, he placed a chaste kiss on the top of my foot, almost tickling in its caress, and then gently set it down in the water. The warmth rushed over aching feet with a painful intensity. After a moment or two, the soreness started to recede, replaced by the soothing embrace of the water and eucalyptus.
He repeated the ritual on the right foot.
Before I could comprehend what my body was doing, my head lolled back, my eyes closed, and the cup tipped in my hand. I set it between my thighs so it wouldn’t spill over. Reaching up, he took it from me and placed it on the table.
He ran a sponge over my feet and then my legs. The water trickled along my skin in delicate streams. I had no idea how long he continued to do this, but after some time, he traded the sponge for his fingers, working in a meticulous way.
His hands held just enough strength to release the tightness, the tiredness, and just enough affection to stave off the tightness, the tiredness, so that the combinational punch wouldn’t come back soon.
I made a noise, between a moan and a release of breath, and his fingers stilled. I splashed a bit of water at him and he continued.
“This feels like heaven,” I said, my voice floating, almost dreamily.
“Tell me who does this for you.”
“No one.” I decided against mentioning that I usually left my feet as is. All of the gunk and buildup aided in their protection. Became a shield to the grueling routines I subjected them to. This felt so good, though, that if he stopped, I’d cry.
His eyes narrowed in a way that told me he wasn’t pleased. He seemed to concentrate even harder on what he was doing. The pressure increased, making me moan again.
“This is a beautiful song,” I reflected. “The sort of song inspired by a beautiful woman.”
“You.”
I smiled, and I suspected it looked as goofy as it felt. “You’re the first man to ever tell me that. That I’m beautiful.”
“Your beauty is at a level that scares them. They think it but are too afraid to say it. I’m the first, but I won’t be the last. In that regard. Not all men are afraid, Scarlett. Just the boys.”
“Does that mean I’m scary beautiful?” I scrunched up my nose. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
He squeezed my big toe in a playful way. “You’re intimidating. Not the type of woman meant for a boy. Not meant for a lot of men either.”
A dark look crossed over his features before some semblance of light came back. He wanted to add something else but refrained. “There’s something about you, more than just your physical appearance. You’ll cause trouble, Scarlett. Once you’re out in the world. There’s a thin line between men and monsters. You’re the kind of woman a certain kind of man assumes he’s entitled to.”
“You?”
He said nothing, and tension slid in the space that separated us with a vengeance. Why did I get the feeling that he was preparing me for something, something that I would never want? A life without him.
Too unnerved to relax, I opened my eyes and reached for the cup. The coffee had cooled but was still warm enough to enjoy.
He must’ve felt the change too. He sighed, releasing whatever he had pent up, and the moment seemed to settle itself. “I have something for you.” He tilted to the side, giving me access to his back pocket. Papers stuck out. “Take them.”
I bent over and slid the slips out. Minutes passed and not a sound came from my mouth.
“Scarlett.” He squeezed an ankle.
“The Gin Blossoms.” I met his eyes. “How did you…?”
“Ways.”
I waved the tickets. “Six?”
“Violet and Mick. Mitch and his date.”
Bringing the tickets to my heart, I gave him a big, stupid grin. Then I pretended to