Chapter 19 The Perils of Pedicures #2
I shake my head. “Oh, she’s one of us now.
She’s brought a lot of business to Darling Springs.
She and her hubs started hosting couples retreats here,” I say, enthused as I tell him more about the new kids.
“They have this podcast all about romance and dating and such, so they host couples retreats at a house they were gifted by a listener who’s from here. ”
“Juliet and Monroe, right?” he asks.
I blink, pull back. “You know them?”
“Not terribly well, but I was passing through town a year or so ago and ran into Monroe. Since then, I’ve listened to their show a few times.”
I smile. “Small world.”
He smiles too. “I suppose it is.”
“Do you know what they call their house here? The Horny House.”
Banks laughs. Big, deep, pleased. “Sounds like my kind of home.”
“It’s a fun place,” I say as the tech rubs hot stones along my calves. I sigh contentedly, enjoying the touch. “And you live in Los Angeles now, you said?”
“I do,” he says.
“Even though you grew up in Lucky Falls?”
“I did.”
He’s a little clipped when I ask about Lucky Falls.
I’m not entirely used to that from the king of comebacks.
Come to think of it, he didn’t say much about Lucky Falls yesterday, either, when he told me where he was from, only that it’s not a bad place.
Does that mean he dislikes small towns? He didn’t sound that way a few minutes ago.
But maybe there’s something about that place he doesn’t care for. “Are you a city guy?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His expression darkens, like there’s a storm cloud over his head. “Anonymity is a good thing, I’ve found,” he says, a little evasively.
So then it’s not a Lucky Falls thing. It’s a Banks thing. I press a little more. “In your line of work?”
“Something like that,” he says, then looks to his feet.
It’s a sign he doesn’t want to talk much any more about where he’s from or where he lives now. I respect the boundary he’s created and move on. “This is really your first pedicure?”
His laugh is instant. “Do I seem like a natural or something?”
“Sort of.”
“You’re my first, Ripley,” Banks reassures me, putting a little extra whiskey and seduction in his voice.
It’s intended to be playful, I’m sure. But it still sends a zing through me.
“But my sister’s tried to get me to go many times.
I used to drop her and her friends off when she was younger before she could drive.
And it became this thing Emily did—trying to convince me to join them. ”
“She’s the one who taught you origami?”
“Good memory.”
“I remember a lot of things from that night.”
Banks holds my gaze, leveling me with a hot stare that nearly burns my T-shirt from the intensity. “I remember everything.”
Lust holds me in its grip for several long seconds before I manage to form words rather than sighs. “Anyway…how old is your sister?”
He reorients to the conversation too. “Twenty-seven. Seven years younger,” he says as the tech tells me to put my feet on the towel.
I comply as she grabs some polish. “And you never joined her?”
“Nope. Just stood outside the salon. Read a book. Went for a walk.”
“A bodyguard in the making,” I tease.
He gives me a stern look. “You don’t see me walking around the block here.”
“Yes, you’re protecting me from the perils of pedicures so well,” I say, then return to the why. “Why did you say no to her? You obviously adore her.”
“Yeah, I do. Good observation.” He sighs deeply, like he’s giving the question real thought.
“Is it because you don’t like relaxing?”
“Maybe I thought I was too tough for pampering,” he says, a little sheepish.
I can see that in him. He has to spend his days being badass. It can be hard to let go. “Big, tough Marine and all?”
“Something like that,” he says, and his smile is self-deprecating. “Kind of ridiculous now that I think about it.”
“Or maybe you’d always wanted one and you finally gave yourself permission to get one with me. Since you had no choice but to follow me into the salon to save me from all the dangers in Darling Springs.”
“Damn, look at you psychoanalyzing me.”
“Am I wrong? You seem to be enjoying it,” I say, gesturing to him relaxing in the chair, resting comfortably, looking like he’s having a good time as he gets his feet buffed and beautified. “Just like I unexpectedly enjoyed yoga yesterday,” I add.
He studies my face, like he’s looking for the answer in my eyes. Then he sighs thoughtfully. “You might not be wrong.”
I don’t bother to hide a smile whatsoever. Maybe this is my victory after all. “Score one for the farmer girl.”
Banks shakes his head, like not so fast. “I’m not sure you won. Since you actually wanted to shake me today but didn’t.”
But he’s wrong there. “No. I didn’t entirely want that.”
“You weren’t trying to shake me by taking me on a girlie outing?”
“I was trying to rise to the challenge,” I say with a confident lift of my chin. But I don’t add I may have met my match.
“Have you ever not risen to the challenge?”
I tap my chin. “My friend Chloe dared me to bungee jump, so I did it once to prove I could do it. So I’d have to say no. Also, it was fun.”
Smiling, he leans back in the chair as the tech pats his feet dry. “You,” he begins, then shakes his head, as if that’s all he can say—just you. But it’s said with affection, exasperation, and honestly, a little unchecked desire.
Like how I feel.
When we leave the shop a little later, a pretty woman with sleek chestnut hair nearly bumps into me on the street.
She’s not a photog though.
It’s Bridget. Then, a redhead knocks into me. Chloe.
Gee, it’s almost as if they’re stalking me since they knew I’d be here at this time. “Fancy meeting you here,” I say.
Bridget says, faux innocently, “This must be your hot bodyguard.”
The look on Banks’s face is pure satisfaction.
I want to kill my friends.