“So you’ll go?”

He blinked away the vision of her lying next to him. “What? Yeah. Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“You want polish?”

Dameon looked at his feet and the woman waving a clear nail polish in the air.

“No. I’m good.”

Grace started to laugh. “Men get polish, too.”

“I call bull on that,” he said.

She kept laughing.

His feet were dried and his pants rolled back down. The woman thanked him and walked away.

Dameon waited until Grace’s toes were painted and carefully tucked into a pair of sandals. He stood and reached for his wallet as he approached the desk where he’d noticed the other woman check out a few minutes before. “Both of us,” he said, pointing to Grace.

He thought he’d get an argument from her, but found silence.

She looked at him with innocence. “What? You yammered through my stress relief. The least you can do is pay for it.”

That’s the sarcasm he was growing to appreciate from the woman.

Nell told him a price and he handed her his credit card.

The transaction went through and he put the card back in his wallet.

He started toward the door.

Grace stopped him. “You need to give them a tip.”

“Oh, of course.” He reached for his wallet again and whispered, “What’s appropriate?”

She smiled. “Ten each.”

Considering the bill was less than fifty, he thought that was a bit much.

“And it is the holidays,” Grace added.

He removed two twenties and handed one to each employee.

The cash disappeared quickly with thank-yous and smiles.

He opened the door for Grace and followed her out. “I just over tipped them, didn’t I?” he asked.

Grace giggled. “Yup.”

“And men don’t go in there, do they?”

“Well . . . it’s cheaper than a podiatrist when you’re on a fixed income,” she pointed out.

He cringed. “That’s what I thought.”

He walked beside her.

“I’m sure my brothers have had pedicures.”

“Really?”

“No. They wouldn’t be caught dead in there.” She started to laugh as if she’d been holding it in for the last hour.

It was worth it, he decided, just to hear her happy. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

She placed her hand over her stomach with laughter. “Nope.”

They stopped at the edge of the strip mall.

“This was fun, but I need to get back to work.”

Dameon wanted to pull her in for a hug. More, he wanted to kiss her. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead. “I’ll see you Friday.”

“I guess so. I’ll text you the information.” Her eyes were searching his. “I gotta go.”

“Right.”

She turned away.

“Wait.”

“Yeah?” She looked at him again.

“Where’s the best place to buy a bed in town? I can use Grandma’s sofa, but the bed needs to be replaced.”

“There’s a mattress store on the Old Road.”

He knew where that was. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She turned again.

“Oh, and Grace?”

“Yeah?”

He glanced down at her feet. “I like the red.”

And just like that, her cheeks matched the paint on her toes.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Concentrating at work became a chore when Grace kept remembering the maze of expressions on Dameon’s face during his virgin pedicure. Absolutely priceless. She wished she had known it was coming so she could have set up a secret camera to record it.

Before it slipped her mind, she sent Dameon a picture of the invitation that went out to the masses for the holiday event and called to leave a message for the coordinator to add his name to the list of attendees.

She no sooner hung up the phone than her cell buzzed.

I feel the need to attend a boxing match after today.

She laughed, texted him back. Do you feel like a girl now?

What can I do to convince you to keep today a secret?

Grace sat back in her chair and looked at her drying toenails. My price is steep.

Name it!

Never mind. I’ll hold onto the information to lord over you.

I see how this works. Blackmail.

She couldn’t stop smiling. We all have our ways and means. Now go away. I have real work to get to.

Grace stared at her phone, knew she was flirting, but couldn’t seem to stop herself.

Thirty minutes before quitting time, Richard walked into her office without so much as a knock.

No hello, no excuse me, he jumped right in with his demands. “I need you to go by the Sierra Highway site today.”

She looked outside. The sun was already low on the horizon. “Why?”

“Mr. Sokolov called my office, said he had a plan that doesn’t require the city to step in.”

Grace felt her pulse rising. “I told him end of business yesterday.”

“He said you told him he had until next Monday.”

“Richard . . . he—”

“If it will save us time and upfront money, we’re going to do it.” He waved to the clock. “You have time.”

No, actually, she didn’t.

“He said five o’clock.” Richard walked away, putting any argument she had to rest.

She dropped her pen onto the desk and pushed the chair back. A stream of words ran in her head but didn’t escape her tongue.

Not only was she not dressed for an on-site meeting, she hadn’t brought the right coat to be traipsing outside. Especially once the sun went down. Even though she lived close enough to change, there wasn’t enough time if she was going to make it to the site by five. Not during rush hour.

She powered down her computer, grabbed her sweater and purse, and left the office.

Grumbling all the way across town, Grace arrived at five minutes past five. Instead of parking on the street, she pulled into the mobile home complex and parked on the side of the road.

Sokolov’s car wasn’t there.

She removed her cell phone from her purse, glanced at the time to see that it matched her car’s, and swiveled in her seat.

The wind had picked up, and the sun was long past warming up the day.

She was going to give the man ten minutes and then she was out of there.

Two cars drove past. Their lights shined inside her car, but kept going.

One minute to her self-imposed deadline, the dark sedan pulled in behind her. She was actually disappointed. Unable to avoid the man, she stepped out of her car.

It wasn’t full dark, but it was getting awfully close.

Mr. Sokolov pushed out of his car and pulled at his pants as if making room in the crotch. The man was disgusting. “Nice to see the city jumping to meet with me,” he said instead of a simple hello.

She wanted to contradict him, but he had a point.

“Do you have plans for me to look at? Or a contractor for me to meet?”

Because standing in the cold, dark mobile home park with a man she loathed wasn’t going to last long if he was there stalling.

“I had my guy write something up.”