Page 54 of Santa's Girl
“You talkin’ to me?” I asked.
Zane’s grin widened. “You see any other bearded lumberjack types having a midlife grooming crisis in here?”
I just stared at him. He raised an eyebrow, unfazed.
“I noticed your hands,” he said, taking one of mine like I’d just offered it in a damn wedding proposal. “These things have seenwork.”
I didn’t pull away, but I didn’t say anything either.
“You ever had a manicure?” he asked, already inspecting my nails like they were a crime scene.
“Do Ilooklike I’ve had a manicure?” I growled.
Zane winked. “Youlooklike you arm-wrestled a bear to get your morning coffee.”
He turned my hand over, tsked, and reached for a warm ceramic bowl of soaking water. “Come on. Dip ‘em in. It'll be fun.”
“I ain’t here for fun,” I muttered, but I dropped my hands in anyway.
Zane beamed. “Mmm. The tough ones are always my favorite.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Look, man. I’m not gay. Just so we’re clear.”
He smiled, not missing a beat. “Sweetheart, neither is she. And I’m guessing she’s the reason you’re in my chair, letting me touch these gnarly mitts without punching me.”
He wasn’t wrong.
I leaned back, let the towel drop again. “I’m doing this for a woman.”
Zane patted my shoulder, all mock-serious. “Aren’twe all.”
For the next twenty minutes, he trimmed, filed, massaged, and clipped my nails while humming something jazzy under his breath. I tried not to squirm. At one point he hit a pressure point in my palm that made my eyebrow twitch.
“Easy, tiger,” he said, laughing. “Don’t finish before the first date.”
“The fuck,” I muttered.
“Relax. You’re gonna break hearts with these hands. Or at leastone.”
When it was all done, he held them up like they were museum pieces. “There. Masculine, clean, and moisturized. A miracle.”
I stared at my hands, which — okay, fine — looked kinda impressive. Smelled good, too. Like oranges and cedarwood.
“This better work,” I muttered.
Zane grinned. “Oh honey… it already is.”
I stood, beard trimmed, face slicked with something that smelled like pine and money, hands moisturized and clean enough to hold a crystal wine glass without feeling like I was gonna snap it in half.
I looked like a man who had his shit together.
Ifeltlike a man being dressed up to meet royalty.
All for one damn woman.
Zane handed me a little card with their salon hours and some kind of product recommendation I was never gonna read.Samantha just smiled, like she still couldn’t believe I let it happen.
I pulled out my wallet.
