Page 135 of Moon's Promise

“You’ve had several opportunities, so why haven’t you?”

“To be honest …” He sat down and picked up the towel beside her, placing it on his lap, then lifted her foot closest to him and rested it on the towel. He used the ends of towel to gently dry her foot before he started massaging her sole. “I wasn’t ready to discuss it. Maybe in a couple of days.”

Resting back on the arm of the couch, she luxuriated in being cared for, as if her comfort really mattered to him. She didn’t want to spoil the moment by pressuring Moon before he was clearly ready. She decided to wait and give him more time to process losing his friend to suicide.

Being a midwife, she had witnessed fathers doing little things for the mothers many times. Propping them up on pillows, rubbing their backs, foot massages, getting them the food they’re craving …

Regarding him as his fingers moved to rub the side of her foot, she decided to go for it. Nothing was ever gained unless you did it yourself … or asked someone else to do it for you.

“Um … you hungry?” she ventured slowly.

“You?” Moon’s fingers went to her toes.

Larissa nearly lost track of what she was about to say. Lord … oh my … his fingers were magical. She had to swallow hard before answering.

“Starved. I would offer you something, but I was too tired to make it to the grocery store. I planned to get take-out on the way home.”

Sliding his hand down her foot, Moon cupped the heel in the palm of his hand then started rubbing the back, near her ankle.

Every drop of blood turned into molten silver at the speed of light.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t you stop and get take-out?”

“I wanted hamburgers.”

Moon’s eye narrowed on her. “I’ll call and order a couple of burgers from King’s.”

“Those aren’t the hamburgers I was craving.” Pouting, she tried to keep a straight face.

“Is there something wrong with your lip?”

She sucked her bottom lip back in. “Papercut,” she mumbled.

“That’s painful,” he commiserated.

She gave him sad eyes and took another shot. “Not as much as wanting the hamburgers from Marty’s.”

Moon ran his hand up the back of her calf to knead the taut muscles. How she kept her eyes from rolling back into her head, she’d never know.

“No.”

“Please …”

“I’m not dealing with that asshole.”

“He’s not that bad.”

Moon arched a brow at her. “Then why didn’t you stop and pick them up?”

“My feet hurt too badly.”

“Yeah, right,” he snorted. “How about I run to the grocery store and buy some hamburgers and buns—”

She started crying. “Because I don’t have his grill for you to cook them on. The pickles won’t taste the same, either. He marinates them in something and won’t tell anyone in what.”

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