Page 41 of Taming a Heartbreaker

“Busy doing what?” she asked, not wasting any time digging the spoon out of the bag along with the pint of ice cream.

“I will be performing my first pedicure.”

“Pedicure? Are you serious?”

“Yes.” He saw the concern on her face and smiled. “Relax. I did some research. I’ll be back with everything.”

He left and returned within a few minutes with a box labeled “At Home Pedicure.” She had gotten out of bed and was sitting on the love seat. He went into her bathroom to get a towel and a few cotton balls he’d seen in a container on her vanity.

In no time at all, he had removed everything from the box and filled the basin with water. He then added everything needed, including the oil Leslie had shared was Carmen’s favorite fragrance. Kneeling in front of her, he lifted her feet and placed them in the water. The sweet scent of the oil wafted between them and filled him with a sense of pride that he was doing this for her. It was the first pedicure he’d ever done for a woman. But then, Carmen was becoming his first for a number of things.

Redford thought she had pretty feet; and honestly, he didn’t see anything wrong with her toes. However, if she thought there was, he wasn’t about to argue. He wanted to take care of her.

And he did.

Taking his time, he went through the process, step-by-step, as outlined in his research. He appreciated that Carmen trusted him to do this. She calmly ate her ice cream while listening to the music he had turned on: Beethoven. He grinned when he noticed her toes moving to the music.

An hour or so later, he leaned back on his haunches pleased with what he’d done. The polish matched her nails; again, thanks to Leslie who knew her favorite color.

He looked at her. She had finished her ice cream. “So, what do you think, Carmen Golan?”

Carmen glanced down at her toes, and a huge smile curved her lips. She seemed happy. He knew, at that moment, that if given the chance, he would keep that smile on her face forever.

“You did a great job, Redford. I’m beginning to think you might be in the wrong line of work.”

He chuckled. “Thanks, but I’d rather stick to resort development.” He stood. “There’s a casserole dish that’s ready for the oven.” He glanced back down at her feet. “Let your toes dry before moving around.”

“Alright and thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Redford was halfway down the stairs when his cell phone rang. Recognizing the ring tone, he pulled it out of his back pocket. “Yes, Sloan?”

“What’s this I hear about you giving a woman a pedicure?”

He grinned as he thought about the past hour or so. But he hadn’t given just any woman a pedicure. He’d given one to the woman who would be the mother of his child. He’d felt like pampering her, and he had. She deserved it, and he intended to see that she had plenty more pampering while he was here.

“What of it?”

“Nothing, I guess.”

Upon reaching the living room, he leaned against the bookcase. “Out with it, Sloan.”

“Out with what?”

“The reason you called. I’m sure Leslie told you.”

“Yes, she told me of your plans. Doing something like that just doesn’t sound like you.”

Redford rubbed his hand down his face. “In case you’ve missed it, a number of things I’ve been doing lately that involve Carmen don’t sound like me. The main one is getting her pregnant.”

“Mistakes happen to the best of us.”

The last thing he wanted to tell Sloan was that he honestly didn’t think Carmen getting pregnant was a mistake. Although it certainly hadn’t been intentional, why was he beginning to think it was meant to happen? Like fate, which was something he normally didn’t believe in. Therefore, he decided not to respond.

Wisely, he chose to change the subject. “How’s my goddaughter?” He smiled knowing that question would work each and every time. Sloan loved giving Cassidy updates.

As Sloan went on about his daughter’s latest escapades, Redford’s mind drifted back to Carmen’s smile. Since she wasn’t someone who could easily mask her feelings, he knew she was genuinely appreciative of the pedicure and pleased with what he’d done.

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