Page 2 of Velvet Varnish

What does she know? If there was any sign he had feelings for me, it would be different, but he’s never given any indication. And I don’t want to lose him.

The tray tips precariously as I fish out my keys to unlock the shop and duck inside, flicking on the lights. The tray goes on the desk beside me while I set up my station. I haven’t figured out what design to do yet.

Sometimes Dom adds his opinion, but usually I have free rein. If I’m honest with myself, I don’t understand why he keeps letting me do this. Since I don’t always try a new design but do a solid colour instead—which I don’t need to practice—it kind of defeats the purpose of him coming. I like to think it’s because he enjoys spending time with me as well, but that’s wishful thinking. Maybe he likes getting his nails done. I sigh and pour warm water in a bowl to set at the station.

The door opens and my heart starts to pound in my chest. I wipe damp palms on my jeans.

“Hey, Isla. Sorry I’m late.”

As if being a minute late counts. I wave his apology away. “Late night at the bar?” I swallow hard. He’s in a charcoal hoodie, which brightens his hair and eyes. I love when he dresses cosy, can imagine lying on the couch beside him while he looks like that, with messier hair from my fingers running through it.

He huffs a laugh. “You have no idea.”

“What happened?” I sit behind my station and he collapses in the chair in front of me, setting a book on the station beside us. He runs a hand through his hair before leafing through colour options. I hand him the latte, which he takes with a smile.

“Some guys got into it, had a few sick calls. The usual.”

Reaching over, I squeeze his hand—the only part of him I’m comfortable touching. His hands aremine.Logically I know they aren’t, but it feels like it after all this time. “You okay?”

He tugs my hand closer to him, links our fingers together and brushes a thumb over the strawberry design on my nails. My skin is darker compared to his pale skin. “I’m good. What are we doing today?”

He releases my hand, and I miss the warmth. “Whatever you want.”

“We haven’t done a design in a while. Anything you want to try?”

I shrug and try to think of something. “We could do black with flames?”

He nods and points at a bright orange from the colour book. Noting the colour number, I go to the wall where the polish is on display. After finding it, I spin around and Dom’s eyes flick up quickly, settling on my face, cheeks tinged red. Maybe he’s too hot with his hoodie on.

“Do you need me to turn the heat down?” I finish setting up the station and take his hand to soak in water. My favourite part about doing this is how much I get to touch him. No questionsasked. I grab his other hand to remove the polish. We alternate his nails, so one hand gets a break each month. This month his left hand will have flames.

“It’s fine. I don’t want you cold. Have you finished the book yet?”

I grin. “It was amazing. I loved it.”

During our monthly visits, we also exchange books. It’s almost a book club. We don’t read the same books, but lend each other our favourites and then discuss them at the next session. He suggested it when I complained no one in my family liked to read, that I had no one to talk to about it. The following month, he brought along his favourite mystery, and I gave him my favourite fantasy.

Do I like mystery and thriller books? Nope. But he brought them for me, so I read them. His recommendations have gotten a little softer over time, less gritty and more to my taste, which I’m grateful for. “It’s in my bag for you with a crime romance.” We found blending the two genres we like together worked well to give us something to discuss.

“I have a fantasy I think you’ll like. Did you like the romance?” He nudges my hand. “See, I found a book with romance for you.”

I dry his hand off and begin filing his nails while the other soaks. “I did, but the guy took forever to admit his feelings.”

Dom tilts his head as he watches me work. “He waited until he was sure the girl returned his feelings.”

“They could have been together so much longer if they were open about it.”

“He probably didn’t want to get hurt.”

My hand rearranges his to apply polish while his other hand dries. Dom makes a good point, and I inwardly cringe at how similar the story is to my feelings. I’m not making a movebecause I don’t know anything about Dom’s feelings, so I can hardly blame the character for being cautious.

“I see your point,” I say with a smile. “When feelings are involved, everything’s messy.” Dom’s hand flinches and I pull the brush back quickly to avoid smudging his cuticle. “Okay?” I ask, stroking his thumb. Usually he stays still. It’s not like him to fidget.

He coughs. “Fine. What book did you bring?”

“I’ve got the crime book but also brought a fantasy where a girl finds out magic exists and has to figure out how to live in the world. There’s mystery, intrigue, with a little bit of romance. I think you’ll like it.”

“If you liked it, I’m sure I will.”

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