Chapter 19
Genevieve
A band around my ribs tightens then loosens all at once, heart wallops against my sternum, removing any doubt that I’ve completely fallen for Luke Nichols again.
Luke places the bowl of water on the floor and then pulls a stool in front of me to sit on. He gently picks up my foot and removes the other shoe and sock to check how bad it is.
Letting my gaze roam over his face while my fingers continue to absently run through silky fur.
He dips a balled-up washcloth into the bowl while simultaneously resting my ankle on his thigh.
If I didn't know better, I’d think he did things like this every day.
When the cool cloth presses against the blister on my heel, a sharp sting flares, then melts into sweet relief.
My breath catches. “Wait. I can do that.”
“I know you can,” he says huskily, glancing at me with a warmth that has my stomach flipping. “I want to do it. Will you let me?”
Gazing into his eyes, I swallow hard. Exhaling slowly, I nod.
“I hurt my feet like this once when I was younger, running across blacktop when my family lived in Arizona. I don’t recommend it.
” His voice is soothing, like he’s talking to a wild animal who might run.
His touch is gentle, and the cool water is soothing against the heat on the sole of my foot.
“My feet were so badly burned, and I didn’t want to tell my mom because she specifically told me not to do that.
The blisters got infected, and I had to stay off my feet for a week. ”
The space between us shrinks, the walls pressing closer, and the touch feels more intimate than it should. “I feel sorry for anyone who had to be around you.”
His unguarded chuckle breaks free, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and it pulls a shiver from my spine. “Yeah. Claire was the unlucky recipient of my crankiness.”
“You? Cranky?” I tease, “I don’t believe it.”
He lifts his head and narrows his eyes at me, but the smirk on his mouth belies any annoyance he’s hoping to convey.
Dipping the washcloth in the water again, he gently places the foot he’s holding down and picks up the other one to repeat the process.
“So what had you jumping on the treadmill without any sneakers?”
“Nothing, really.” My grip tightens on Bogey’s fur, not comfortable with evading the question, but not ready to speak up yet. “Just contemplating a few work-related things.”
See. Not a lie. He is technically work-related.
“Work things can be so distracting that you don’t realize your feet are scraping against the tread on a treadmill?” His tone is neutral, no sarcasm or undermining. Just asking a question. But I can feel he’s digging for information.
“Sometimes.” I shrug, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “It depends on the case.”
“Case?”
“Occasionally, I work with a Behavior Veterinarian, and we refer to those clients as cases.”
“Gotcha. Those cases are tough?”
“They can be.” Luke runs the washcloth across the center of my foot, hitting the spot in the middle, and I instinctively try to pull away from him. “Ooh.”
His eyes pin mine, concern lining his forehead as his grip instantly loosens. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No.” I shake my head insistently. “You just hit a tickle spot.”
“Oh?” His brow lifts, and a mischievous gleam fills his eyes.
“I guess still being able to feel it is a good thing, considering my foot is covered in blisters?”
His face changes from teasing to focused as he inspects the bottom of my foot, making the corner of my lip pull up.
“This foot isn’t as bad as the other one, actually.” His gaze lifts to mine again, and the teasing glint is back. “But I’ll make sure to remember where that is in the future.”
“Well, I’m not planning to be in this situation again, so…”
“Which situation?” Luke goes back to washing my feet. “Getting blisters or me tending them?”
Heat rushes up to my face, and I groan. “Definitely not the blisters.”
“That’s smart. What about the second part?”
Chewing my bottom lip, I don’t know how to respond.
Just then, Luke’s hand stills before dropping the washcloth in the bowl, and he starts digging in the first aid kit, turning the items over a few different times. “Hmmm.”
“Missing something?” I ask, grateful for a change of topic.
“Yeah. My blister cream. I usually keep one in here.” He places his hand on my knee, his eyes roaming my face, and I stop breathing.
My heart is crashing against my ribcage, and I’m certain he can hear the pounding.
He watches me for a moment, contemplating saying something, but then he lets out an exhale.
“I’ll be right back. It’s probably in the medicine cabinet. ”
Unable to speak, I dip my chin as he gently places my foot on the ground.
Listening for his footsteps to fade, I blow out a slow, shaky breath, and then push an imaginary strand of hair behind my ear.
Bogey stands and rests his head in my lap, making the corner of my lip pull up. This dog is good at his job. Running my hand down his back, my pulse immediately begins to return to normal.
He lets out a soft ‘Awooo,’ and warmth pools in my stomach. I don’t usually fall in love with my clients’ dogs, or my clients, but these two have captured my heart. “Are you happy to be home, bub?”
“I am,” a male voice responds, coinciding with an ‘Awooooooooooooooooo’, and I pop out of my seat.
“Oh,” Luke says, sitting back on the stool, holding a tube in his hand. “You were talking to him.” He stiffly points to the dog whose head is resting on my lap, a frown on his face.
“Me calling you ‘bub’ would be a bit strange, don’t you think?” He shrugs and lets out a tiny scoff as he gently rests my foot on his thigh.
My cheeks pull up, and his lips tighten. My grin widens. “Are you happy to be home?”
He squeezes the tube, a white cream piling in his hand, and gives me another shrug. A huff of laughter puffs out and he narrows his eyes. Staring at me the entire time, he rubs my foot, covering it with the cream.
My eyes widen, and I feel giggles ready to break free, so I slap my hand over my mouth. He looks pretty adorable when he pouts.
Suddenly, I jerk my foot back as his finger runs over the sensitive spot. “HEY! Don’t you dare!”
His eyes glint with humor as he holds my foot hostage, the skin on my sole prickling in anticipation. He gives me a lopsided grin, and when he leans in, I pull harder, muscles tensing. “I won’t, Gen, I promise.”
Not relaxing yet, I watch him, a small smile lining my lips, waiting to see if he’s being honest. He loosens his grip on my ankle, letting me decide if I believe him. My leg shifts toward my chest as he no longer holds on.
It takes me a few moments before I rest the weight of my leg in his hand again.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
His words catch me off guard. “For what?”
“Trusting me.”
My jaw hinges as we sit there, staring at each other.
I do trust him.
Luke extracts a little more of the burn cream in his hand and goes back to gently finishing with my right foot before gently switching to the left.
He’s painstakingly gentle with me, and I swallow past the cotton suddenly filling my mouth. Kit’s words run through my mind, and my throat tightens. I need to know.
“Luke?” My pulse thunders in my ears.
“Yeah?” He continues rubbing the lotion, not looking up.
Words get stuck, and I just watch, trying to gain the courage to just ask if he was the person in the forum.
“Kit had mentioned that Fur-Ever Homes has a forum for new pet owners?”
“She’s right, they do,” he responds, flicking his gaze up and briefly meeting mine. “It’s been helpful, especially when I first got Bogey and was losing my mind.” He clears his throat. “Before Claire made you help me.”
My lips twitch as I think about how far I’ve come from when his sister reached out, nearly blackmailing me to help him.
“Did you happen to mention that you adopted a dog to try and get your ex back?” His hand stops moving, and I feel the one holding my ankle loosen before tightening again. I hold my breath, my heart thumping, and whisper, “Is it true?”
My pulse pounds in my ears as I wait for his answer. It feels like an eternity before he finally looks up and meets my gaze; the intensity in the brown depths makes my stomach dip.
“Yes.”