“I’d like to see this study.” Humor cloaked his face, making it difficult to remain stoic.
“It’s online. Go ahead, look it up; statistics don’t lie.” If I cracked, he’d think I was joking, and while I was sort of kidding about the shower facts that I made up on the spot, I was super serious about him disinfecting his feet before I touched them. So, to keep from losing my composure, I waved him off and said, “No scrubby, no rubby.”
With a dramatic huff, he snatched the washcloth out of my hand and sat on the edge of the tub. I leaned against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest for no other reason than to give him a hard time.
Jacoby reminded me of Dave in some ways, such as his quick banter. Much like my best friend, he took it as well as he gave it. I wasn’t easily offended, so I tended to get along better with those who enjoyed a bit of back and forth. It was comforting to know that if I pointed out spots that he missed while washing his feet, there was a good chance he’d toss the washcloth at me. And he would do so all in the name of fun.
“Don’t forget in between the toes—all of them.”
He glared at me from over his shoulder. If his expression could talk, it would’ve said, “Shut the hell up.”
I held up my hands, doing my best to appear innocent. “Just making sure. You never know what’s hiding in the crevices and creases.”
“I’m surprised you’re not making me wash them in iodine and then rinse them off with rubbing alcohol.” His monotone voice was too exaggerated to be taken seriously.
“Trust me, I tried, but I couldn’t get it delivered in time.” Two could play this game. “The good news, though, is that I was able to get an ultraviolet light in time. My Google searches might’ve raised some red flags, so there’s a good chance I’m on someone’s watch list, but that’s totally okay. Just as long as I don’t have to touch dirty feet.”
He tucked his chin, doing his best to hide the amusement that rolled through him. He might’ve kept me from seeing the smile on his face, but it did nothing to hide the way his shoulders shook with the laughter he fought to hold in. It literally showed in every part of his body.
“You wouldn’t understand; you play with dirt for a living.”
That got him. Even though he continued to keep his chin tucked toward his chest, he was unable to keep the laughter from billowing out. His shoulders went from more of a vibration to full-on jumping, and as the humor rolled through him, he leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs as if he needed to steady himself.
“I guess that’s one way of describing a landscaper,” he said when he was finally able to speak again. “You do know that there’s such a thing called washing your hands, right? I’m sure you touch dirtier things than my feet.”
“Oh, trust me…there will be some very intense disinfecting going on when I’m done.”
Shaking his head in comedic disbelief, he looked over at me and pointed to his wiggling toes in the tub. “Are they clean enough for you?”
“That’ll do.” I tossed him a towel and left the bathroom.
Either I walked slowly, or he rushed to meet me in the living room, because he rounded the couch as soon as I sat down. But when he reclined against the padded armrest on the end and settled his feet on the cushion between us, I decided I was just a slow walker. They were completely dry, as if he’d taken his time toweling them off.
I started cautiously, basically poking the soles while trying to avoid as much physical contact as possible. At first, he laughed and rolled his ankles to egg me on, but when I didn’t, he groaned and said, “Come on, Tasha. A bet is a bet.”
He was right. If I’d succeeded at my plan, he’d be owing me a foot massage, and I would’ve wanted him to give it his all. It was unfair of me to offer a less-than-mediocre attempt when I would’ve demanded a hearty effort from him.
“Okay, fine. Give me a second.” I got up and went to the kitchen. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for, but as soon as I opened the cupboard below the sink, I found it. When I returned to the living room to resume the massage, I was immediately met with hysterical laughter. “What’s so funny?”
“That!” He pointed to the yellow dish gloves that came halfway up my arm.
“They were the only ones I could find.” I tsked at him, grabbing his foot with both hands. “Do you want me to rub your feet or not?”
Finally, he calmed down and allowed me to give it my best. Which, as it turned out, was not that great. But then again, what did he expect from someone who had never done it before? For my skill level, I thought I was doing a pretty fantastic job.
As soon as I finished his left foot, my phone rang from the coffee table. A simple glance at the screen had my heart racing and my chest tight. Ty. I hadn’t spoken to him since leaving the shopping trip with the girls earlier. Once Jacoby showed up, demanding his foot rub, I forgot all about the situation with my sister. But seeing Ty’s name brought back all the anxiety from before.
I quickly snatched off a glove and grabbed my phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, you got a sec?” He didn’t sound worried, though he didn’t sound calm, either. There was no telling which
