45. Callie
CHAPTER 45
CALLIE
A fter I take the offered bite, Miles slides the cake plate closer to Max and me. “You two can finish everything. I’m full.”
“Are you sure? Want more of the shortcake?” I offer.
“I’m sure. How are your feet feeling?”
“Still a little sore. I hope tomorrow’s shoes aren’t so tight.”
“Let me see.” Miles pushes his chair back from the table and angles it so that I can extend my leg and rest my foot in his lap.
Max offers me another spoonful of custard, while Miles gently inspects my foot. “You didn’t get a blister. That’s good.” When I nod, my mouth full, he asks, “Do you like to have your feet rubbed?”
I lift my brows and shrug as I swallow the food. “I don’t know. I’ve never had someone do that. They didn’t do my feet at the spa today.”
“Some people are too ticklish.” Max reaches for a spoonful of whipped cream from the shortcake, and I was right; watching one of the men eat it is definitely a turn-on.
I’m still staring at Max’s mouth, when Miles says, “Only one way to find out. I’ll try not to tickle you.” Miles presses his thumb into the bottom of my foot and slides it over the pad toward my toes. He repeats it a second time, and I melt.
“Ohh! Wow, I didn’t expect that to feel so good.”
He strokes down toward my heel, and it feels even better. “Good. I’m glad you like it.”
Max gives me another bite of crème br?lée, and if I thought having two men feed me was decadent, having one feed me while the other rubs my feet is the new pinnacle of pleasure. I probably shouldn’t let myself be spoiled this way, because this will be a hard experience to top.
Looking for a distraction, I say, “Miles, did you notice that Mr. Hargrove left the rehearsal dinner before the entrées were served?”
Miles keeps his focus on my foot as he gently pulls on each of my toes, one at a time. “Oh, did he?”
“He never did come back, at least not before we left.”
“Maybe he had to make a phone call,” Max says. He offers me another bite of dessert, but I shake my head. I’m getting full, too.
“Long phone call. I kept imagining him sneaking out to have a private meeting with the greasy-haired man. I’m being silly, aren’t I, acting like I’m a spy? Did you guys ever watch The X Files?”
Both brothers say they have.
“Mr. Hargrove reminds me of the Cigarette Smoking Man. Maybe that’s why he seems so suspicious.”
“Yeah, he does, now that you mention it,” Max says.
“It’s the hair,” Miles says, and the three of us laugh together.
“Maybe I can convince my mom he’s up to no good, and she’ll stop flirting with him.” I say this entirely as a joke, but the men stop laughing. They’re probably thinking about how I don’t stand up to my mom, and maybe they’re right about it being something I need to change.
“Your sister looked like she was having a good time,” Miles says.
“Yeah, she was.” I get a warm glow at the thought of it. I’m so happy everything is going well for her, especially after all the stressful preparations.
Max puts the dessert dishes back on the cart and wheels it into the hallway for pickup, as Miles switches to my other foot. I’m starting to feel very relaxed, even though his touch sends excited sensations straight up my legs to my core.
“I’m having a lot more fun than I expected, too,” I tell them when Max returns. “Despite the disruptions.”
I’m feeling so good right now that I don’t even want to mention my ex’s name.
Max moves the table out of the way and positions his chair close to his brother’s. After he sits down, he takes my left leg into his lap and starts to massage that foot while Miles works on the right one.
“I’m having a good time, too,” Max says. “I’m really glad we met you.”
Miles meets my eyes and smiles. “Me too.”
The warm glow I was feeling at the thought of my sister's happiness intensifies. I’ve been worrying that the men were bored or regretting coming, so I’m glad to hear that’s not the case.
“Maybe I could show you some sights around the area sometime in the future … since you’re new to town.”
As soon as the words start to leave my mouth, my head fills with doubts. Just because they’re having a good time at this beautiful resort doesn’t mean they have any expectations for the future. If they do, I should’ve let them be the ones to bring it up.
“That sounds great. I hope we can keep seeing you after the wedding.” Max runs his thumb along the side of my foot, and I squirm at the way it tickles.
I laugh, not just at the ticklish feeling, but also because happiness is bubbling up from my belly. They want to see me again!
But what does that mean? Would I hang out with both of them together? Would I go out with them individually?
Either option sounds great, and both options sound wonderful, and then I have to laugh to myself about how I had absolutely no interest in getting involved with a man. That was before I met these men.
They’d been massaging each of my feet in different ways, but suddenly, their movements sync up, each of them pressing their thumbs into my heels and rubbing there, before both gliding up toward the pads of my feet in perfect coordination.
I fall backward onto the bed and sigh at how blissful it feels.
“Are you tired, Callie?” It’s Max who asks, making me realize I can somehow tell their voices apart when I’m not looking at them.
I blink up at the ceiling and let out another sigh. “No, I’m not tired. I think the sugar’s just starting to hit me, actually.” Propping myself on my elbows, I look at both of them. “You’re probably getting tired of rubbing my feet, though. You can stop whenever you feel like it.”
“Or we can move on to giving you a full body massage, if you’d like.”
“Both of you?” My voice comes out like a little squeak, making Max chuckle.
“Why not?”
When I find my voice again, I say, “I mean … I guess I’d be dumb to turn down an offer like that. You’re both making my feet feel really good.”
“Then it’s time we make your whole body feel really good.”
Max’s tone of voice gives me the idea there’s more on offer than the type of massage I received at the spa earlier today. Or is that wishful thinking on my part?
“Where would you like me?” The atmosphere suddenly feels charged, and each word seems like an innuendo.
How would you like me? Because I think I’m yours to do with as you wish.
“How about face down on the bed?”
It’s still Max making these arrangements. I send a quick glance in Miles’s direction and find that he’s definitely not disinterested, but there’s some wariness in his eyes. Is it uncomfortable for him that they’re both here, with what Max is proposing?
A foot massage was one thing. It’s a kind gesture. But a full-body massage, in a private hotel room, on a bed, with me in these thin pajamas, is something else entirely.