Harlequin Heartwarming June 2021 Box Set

by Patricia Johns

  Her lips twitched into a near smile. He didn’t blame her. If he looked half as foolish as he felt, he could understand if she doubled over with laughter.

  Her hip curved out a titch more. “Ever hear of a phone?”

  Well now, he’d never thought of that. What did that say about how badly he wanted to see her? “I—I prefer to do this in person.” It was the truth, although it came off as if they were about to undertake a shady transaction.

  She straightened and opened her door wider. “I appreciate your honesty, Will.”

  He might as well have stepped into her home. There was a light blue sofa piled with yellow cushions. Curtains, blue and yellow, hung on the large front window. Wood plank flooring in warm browns. A couple of deep armchairs angled to each other, an art book on the small table between them. A fountain took up another corner, the little terraces wet and dark from where water had probably spilled those irritating trickles like a tap not properly shut off. A scent hung in the air—half like freshly cut hay and half another kind of sweet cleansing smell.

  He picked out details of her business. A coat stand of bathrobes. Shelving with thick towels, and lines of lotions and shampoos along with small dark blue or brown glass bottles. Likely one or two of them had ended up in his mother’s little bag. On the wall was a large, antique mirror with an old-fashioned dresser in front covered with hair paraphernalia, and a swivel leather chair for cutting hair.

  Krista stepped behind a table in the same blue as the sofa and sat at a matching wood chair, tapping on her phone. “When did your mother want to come back?”

  “If it was up to my dad, later tonight.”

  This time, she didn’t hold back her smile. She had a great one. Quick and so wide her eyes crinkled up. “I’m glad she enjoyed herself in the end.”

  “She didn’t take to it right away?”

  “She seemed to think it was an unnecessary expense on Laura’s part.”

  “An expense my dad will happily pay.”

  “I do have a loyalty card, if you—or your dad—is interested.” From a little basket she handed him her card. White with her business name in the same blue as the chair, underscored with “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

  He was tempted to find out what she meant by that roundabout motto, but then again, he’d taken on enough matters of the heart for one day without asking for more. He flipped the card over. Ten small squares with FREE filled in the last box and in smaller letters “Any service of your choice.”

  “What all did you do to her?”

  “A manicure and then a full body massage. I also do wraps, pedicures, facials, full hair packages. I don’t do extensions but that shouldn’t matter in your mom’s case.”

  Good, because he’d no idea what extensions were.

  Krista seemed to sense his quandary. “Here. I have a Mother’s Day package. It includes a massage, body wrap, facial and her choice of a manicure or pedicure. Plus, the purchaser also receives a complimentary service. I’ll write it up as a gift card today, and then she can call me whenever to book her day.”

  “Day?”

  She turned over the pamphlet and pointed to the price at the bottom. Holy. Then again, it was for a full day. And his dad would pay him back. Except it was a Mother’s Day special, and he’d yet to find a way to thank his mother for being right there for him during his surgeries.

  “All right. I’ll take that, then.”

  “Sure. And what service would you like?”

  Will couldn’t imagine ever submitting to any of her services, especially when they’d be one-on-one in her half home. He hadn’t been alone with Krista since she was sixteen, leaning against his truck, so close he could’ve pulled her into his arms and she would’ve let him. It had taken every shred of willpower to step away from her. Back then, Krista had dated many and stuck with none. She’d made no bones of the fact that she was leaving town as soon as she could, and he didn’t think he had what it took to make her stay. After he’d set young Krista back on her heels, they’d dodged each other.Until now, when he’d entered her space. Still, he wasn’t prepared for her magic hands on him. He’d seen what she’d done to his hard-as-nails mother. “How about I’ll take it as a gift certificate and pass it on to someone else?”

  “I’m sorry, the certificates are nontransferable.”

  “You made the rules. Can’t you change them for male customers?”

  “A lot of men enjoy my spa services, particularly the pedicures.”

  She was teasing him, he was sure of it. Her eyes were extra wide and her mouth pinched tight against laughter.

  “How about I just decline the service?”

  She set her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. “Scared to bare your feet to me, Will Claverley?” She made soft chicken-clucking noises.

  “Fine. I’ll do it. How about now?” This far on in the day, she’d haggle for another time and he could say he was busy and save face.

  Her mouth dropped open. Ha, she hadn’t expected that. She glanced at her phone, probably scrambling for a way out. But then she raised her blue eyes, the same ones that had nearly ensnared him a decade ago. “Sure, let’s do it.”

  Shoot.

  From the coat rack, she unhooked a pair of men’s pajama bottoms and pointed to a rear room. “Unless you can roll your pants up to your knees, time to change. Then meet me back here.”

  * * *

  KRISTA HAD EXPECTED Will to reject her. Give her the same easy smile, same regretful head tilt, and tell her he had other plans. That’s why she laid on the chicken noises, pushing him, because she trusted he’d push right back. Instead he’d countered with the perfect chance to reject him and she’d caved. He emerged from the changeroom. The slouchy pajama bottoms in blue plaid clashed with the bright red plaid of his shirt. He’d removed his hat and his thick, brown hair was a mess. He wore the slippers she also supplied to her clients, and he looked ready for a night at home watching movies with—with someone special.

  Krista snapped her attention back to her clipboard. “I—uh, need you to fill out my Health History form since you’re a first-time client. It’s confidential, it makes me aware if there are any services I shouldn’t perform.”

  He took the clipboard and his hazel eyes widened. “I filled in less when I went for surgery on my shoulder.”

  She already knew about his injury from Laura. He’d been kicked by a horse named Tosser. He’d undergone emergency surgery, followed by months of painful rehabilitation. He’d quit the circuit, his family relieved that his career hadn’t ended more seriously. Krista was pretty sure Will wouldn’t appreciate that his sister had divulged his personal information nor would Laura like her confidentiality with Krista breached. Better to pretend ignorance and disinterest. “See? Now that I know about that, I won’t suggest a massage, or at least not there.”

  He raised his eyes from the checklist. “No way are you ever giving me a massage.”

  Krista’s cheeks blazed. His tone was every bit as final as when he’d knocked back her advance in high school. Well, he wasn’t the first one who’d made her feel stupid. She forced herself to give him a perky smile. “So I take it a makeover is out?”

  He paused again. “I’d say. I’m allergic to most creams. Break out something horrible.”

  He didn’t crack a smile, and she wondered if he was teasing or telling the truth. A lot more men now were using moisturizers as a matter of course and his rodeo champion status might have required some kind of beauty regime for the cameras.

  He returned the clipboard and she scanned his responses. Right shoulder. Right elbow. Right wrist. A whole lot of hurt for one arm. One very muscled arm. Left knee. Occasional pain. She came to the comments: leg spasms. Will kick without warning.

  “Ha. Duly noted.” She gestured to her chair, her prize possession. She’d found it on Kijij
i at a rock-bottom price, and unbelievably, in immaculate condition. But Will eased gingerly into the black leather with the mahogany tray and elevated foot rest, as if mounting one of his broncs.

  “Relax. Enjoy.” Once his back made contact with the chair, she switched on the Shiatsu massage. He squirmed as the kneading rods rolled upward along his spine. When they reached his shoulder area, his suspicion faded and he breathed out. “This isn’t bad.”

  “Like a little heat?”

  “Where?”

  “With electrodes to your prefrontal cortex. On your back, silly. Here. I’ll power it on, and you decide for yourself.”

  She knew the exact moment the heat hit him. He melted, his shoulders sinking down. The tension in his face disappeared. He must be in constant low-level pain. She hoped he was getting physio or massages from someone.

  “I could get used to this,” he said.

  “So the chair can give you a massage, but not me?”

  “I’ve seen what you did to my mother. I need to operate a vehicle to get home, so no thanks.”

  That was almost a compliment. She decided to take it.

  “You relax while I prepare the basin. You can adjust with the remote.”

  While in the bathroom, she texted her sister to say she’d be late with a client.

  You just said you were done for the day, Mara responded.

  A walk-in. For a pedicure.

  That needed doing right now?

  If she so much as mentioned Will to Mara, the double whammy of psychologist and sister, there would be no extracting herself until a full analysis under the influence of wine and chocolates was completed. Her other sister, Bridget, might also be called in. A long story. I’ll explain when I get home. Around 8. Then she ditched her phone and quickly carried the full basin to Will to avoid any more badgering texts.

  She tossed in a handful of salts, and switched on the heat and vibration modes.

  “Who knew a pedicure was so high-tech?” Will said as she pulled up to his soaking feet on her wheeled stool, also a black leather one. She felt a spurt of proprietary pride at how impressed he was with her setup. Not for nothing had she brought in the best of the best...at the cheapest of the cheapest.

  “Don’t worry. There’ll be plenty of hands-on work.” She’d made it sound as if he was looking forward to her touching him. Which they both knew wasn’t the case. She patted the footrest. “Bring those puppies up here and we’ll start.”

  Her work was cut out for her. Side calluses, rough heels, dryness, nail ridges, overgrown cuticles. She might have to send a second text to Mara, tacking on an extra half hour.

  She thought her expression was neutral enough but then he said, “You don’t need to go whole hog on them. We’ll be here all night.”

  How insulting. “First, we won’t be here all night. Second, your feet deserve my pedicure. These two babies might be the farthest body part from your head, but they’ve been with you every step of your life. The least you can do is treat them to my care.”

  They regarded each other down the long length of his legs, then his toes did a wiggly dance. “Well, then. Have at ’em.”

  Krista clipped ’em, nipped ’em, soaked ’em, and then she applied the paddle to remove the calluses. His foot jerked in her lap. He squirmed, grinning.

  She gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” How embarrassing. The last thing she wanted Will Claverley thinking was that she was deliberately tickling him.

  She tried again with a firmer stroke. His foot twisted in her grasp like a caught fish. “You’re doing it,” he sputtered from laughter, “on purpose.”

  “I swear I’m not. It happens if I don’t apply enough pressure. Here, I’ll switch to a coarser grade. That might help.”

  It didn’t. He giggled, tried to squelch it and up it bubbled again. “Couldn’t we skip this step?”

  “Will, that would be like—I dunno—you in the rodeo, asking if you can skip the step of actually riding the horse.”

  “I can’t keep laughing.”

  “No,” she said, “that most certainly won’t do.”

  He frowned. “You’re not making fun of me, are you?”

  It was hilarious actually, and with any other client, they’d both be giggling. But if what his heart wanted was not to laugh, then that’s what she would deliver. “No,” she said honestly, “I’m not.”

  He sat back. “Talk to me, then. Distract me. Tell me what’s been going on in your life.”

  What about her life could possibly interest him? “Well, as you can see, I run my own little spa. I opened up in February and it’s been going great. I could always do with more clients.” She bit her lip. That was unprofessional of her to complain about lack of business to a client. Because really, that’s all Will was. She gave a quick swipe of his foot and pressed his sole with her hand, as if she’d pulled off a wax strip. His grin faded. “Okay, I’m good. Continue.”

  “I, uh, offer a full range of spa treatments—manicures, pedicures, massages. I—uh—” swipe, apply pressure, wait for grin to pass “—also am a hairstylist.”

  Swipe and apply pressure. “So what made you decide to open this spa?” Will squeaked out.

  She could tell him of her epiphany while giving an impromptu foot massage to a tired actress in Toronto but Will wanted a distraction, not a longwinded testimonial. Better to keep it simple. “Because I finally found something I was good at.”

  “Found? You never struck me as somebody who had to find a thing. More like you could take your pick.”

  Another almost compliment. She couldn’t be sure if he meant it but Will Claverley had never held out on her before. Still, it was odd to hear him say nice things to her, to even confess that he wanted to see her in person. It felt too much like how she’d wanted him to be ten years ago.

  “Look, why don’t I charge through both feet as fast as possible and then you can relax and we won’t need to talk about me anymore?”

  He gripped the arms of his chair and gave her the go-ahead nod.

  Two minutes later, he lay back in his chair, breathing heavily but free of giggles.

  “I think it’s over,” she mock-whispered. She stroked the sensitive middle part of his foot. He didn’t flinch. “Indeed, we’re done here.”

  Their eyes met. They had created a new memory between them. Something else besides the decade-old humiliation. One of lightness and laughter and touch, though not one he’d want repeated or spoken of. She’d keep the secret of his ticklish feet, just as he’d kept silent about her asking him out. For which Krista was eternally grateful.

  She cupped her hands around his feet. “This’ll be our second little secret.”

  Will hesitated, then gave a brief nod.

  “All right, then,” she said quickly, “bath time.” She lowered his feet into the basin, searching for something to say.

  He seemed happy to stick to the subject of her, though. “So,” he said. “you were saying business is going great.”

  “Thanks to your sister. She’s brought a lot of business my way. Word of mouth is big in this line of work.”

  “That and giving a service people keep coming back for.”

  She didn’t know if that was yet another compliment, so she went with a neutral “True.” She lifted his dripping foot onto her lap and wrapped it in a towel. “I guess the key is to find enough mouths to put the word into.”

  “Who are your clients?”

  “Women. All ages, really. Right now, I’m trying to cast out as wide a net as possible and then if I develop a niche, focus on expanding that.” Finished with drying his foot, she applied lotion and began her foot massage. His eyes widened and he tensed. She said nothing, and he slowly relaxed. Twice in the same day, a Claverley had succumbed to her magic touch.

  Instead of sinking into silence, however,
Will seemed determined to fight it with talk. “Who have you been catching?”

  This was where the truth came out. “To be honest, friends of Laura, married or getting married. Which means they either live on a ranch or are marrying into a ranch or cattle operation. So yeah, my niche so far is country, especially country weddings.”

  “I’m going to quite a few weddings myself. Which ones are you involved in?”

  Krista hesitated, not sure if she ought to reveal the names of her clients. Then again, everybody knew everybody in Spirit Lake, and hadn’t Will already proved he could be discreet? “There’s Laura’s and Ryan’s. I’m a guest.”

  “Best man here.”

  “There’s Laura’s friend, Caris. I’m doing hair for the bridal party, and she also wants me there for the photographs.”

  “I’m a groomsman.”

  “Amanda’s wedding?”

  “Guest only.”

  “Me, too. High school friends. I’m also doing bridal makeup.”

  She set aside his freshly massaged foot and patted her lap. He obediently lifted his other foot for its turn. “I have an idea,” he said, “that might help us both.”

  Us both. As if they were partners. Krista feigned disinterest. “Oh?”

  “You remember Dana?”

  Her excitement fizzled. Had Laura got it wrong about their sibling-like status and Will was about to spring for a bridal package? No, Laura would’ve said something. Anyway, it shouldn’t matter either way. She began to massage his foot with the same professional care she gave to every client.

  “I do,” Krista said. “You two are buddies.”

  “We are, but the thing is she used to help me out when the rodeo came to the ranch.” He hitched in his seat and looked as uncomfortable as when she’d been scraping at his feet. “We had an agreement. We’ve never dated, but during those few days, we’d pretend to because when I was in the rodeo, I—uh—got a lot of...unintended attention.”

  Krista knew those girls. “Buckle bunnies.” Girls who hung around rodeos to hook up with a cowboy and if not, to steal his trophy buckle, or at least vie for bragging rights.