Page 67 of More Than a Good Friend

I’m not sure what Dag is thinking, and a not-so-nice idea pops in my head. “You can come along if—this is the stipulation—you do what I do.”

“You go into a bookstore, and I’ll choose a book that has chapters but no pictures.” He grins. “Dress shopping? I’ll carry everything you want to buy and even stand outside the dressing room and tell you which ones make you look hot. You name it. I’ll do it.”

“I’m getting a pedicure.” But I’m really tempted to go dress shopping after his offer.

“Sounds good. I’ll get one too.” He drops into the passenger seat and buckles in. “This’ll be fun.”

I bite back a laugh as I start the engine. Seeing Dag with his boots off and soaking his feet will be a sight. Insisting he get his toenails painted might be pushing it. We’ll have to see how I’m feeling.

He talks about moving the cows to a different pasture and how Archer let him drive the tractor this morning when they went out to feed the cattle. I love the enthusiasm Dag has when he talks about little everyday things.

When I park in front of the nail salon, his brow knits. “Why are we here?”

“For our pedicures. I’m getting my toenails done.”

He pales and blinks repeatedly. “Oh. I didn’t know what a pedicure was.” He takes a deep breath. “Now I do.”

“You still want to do this?” Forcing him to do it would make me feel bad.

He drapes an arm around me and pulls open the door. “I said I would. How bad can it be? Having some lady rub my feet might be great.”

At least I know this is still Dag. That’s totally something he would’ve said before he started to change.

The woman at the front counter smiles. “How can I help you?”

“We both want pedicures.”

The lady pointed at Dag with her eyebrows raised. “Him too?”

I’m determined not to laugh. “Yes.”

They seat us next to each other in fancy massage chairs, each with a footbath attached.

I kick off my flip-flops and relax into the chair. But it takes him a couple of minutes to get out of his boots and socks.

Once he’s in the chair, he leans closer. “Okay, so what are they going to do to me?”

“First, we’ll soak our feet. Then they’ll massage our feet and calves before clipping the toenails and cleaning them up. And last, they put on polish, but I didn’t figure you’d want that.”

“You’d be right. What color are you going to get on your toes? I bet red would be super hot.”

Prior to today, I can’t remember Dag ever using the word hot in anything that related to me. Is he turning up the charm because I told him no?

That’s not the kind of convincing I need.

“So how’s this? I’ll go first so that you can see what you’re in for.”

“Awesome.”

I may regret this, but the risk-taker in me wants to come out and play. “And you can choose the color for my toenails.”

He grins and bounces his head in a smug nod.

I think I regret it already.

A woman motions for us to put our feet in the water, and Dag has to roll up his jeans a bit more to keep them from getting soaked. Then she hands me a ring with all the polish color options.

I pass it over to Dag. “I’m reserving veto power in case you choose something that won’t look good on me.”

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