lazy Sunday morning as it gave her a rare opportunity to pamper herself a bit. She looked forward to a long soak in the tub, a hot oil treatment for her hair, and treating her poor, abused feet to a pedicure. Yesterday had been a particularly grueling day in the bookstore. Publishers were sending stock in for the holidays, and she had spent most of the day on the ladder storing overstock. In her next store she would definitely remember to locate those bins at floor level. Reaching above her head with heavy books had left her shoulders tight and sore even after a hot shower, and she really appreciated an opportunity to relax. She felt a mild twinge of conscience as she and Tonya had once again missed Sunday morning church services. Much to her mother’s dismay, regular church attendance had been one of the first casualties of owning a small business. Usually she managed to at least attend on the first Sunday of each month. Receiving Communion assuaged her guilt somewhat; it proved she wasn’t a total heathen. Going outside was not at all inviting on such a gloomy day. Much better to stay at home and get some much-needed personal time. Of course, she’d also have the pleasure of explaining all this to her mother, again.
As was his habit, Bryan had called earlier, looking for something to do. As it was too rainy and cold for hiking, he planned to come over later to just hang out. She twisted around on the sofa, trying to position her toes so that she could paint them more easily. Just when she was adjusted perfectly, the doorbell downstairs rang. Wondering exasperatedly who would dare disturb her idyll, Callie sighed and called out to Tonya to answer the door. After a brief interval, Tonya came back up the stairs with Bryan in tow, then returned to the kitchen, where she had been putting on the kettle for tea. Glancing over her shoulder to ascertain who their unexpected guest was, Callie immediately repositioned herself on the sofa into a more dignified posture. She was also embarrassed by the extremely casual clothes she was wearing: a pair of blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a coordinating baby tee-shirt. Resisting the urge to rush into her bedroom to change, she forced herself to sit still. Changing clothes would mean she was trying look nice for him, something she was determined not to do. His presence also made her self-conscious about her bra-less state and she rounded her shoulders slightly to conceal the fact, then thought better of it when she realized that given the minute size of her breasts, he probably wouldn’t know the difference. Despite her anxiety, she smiled slightly as she studied Bryan’s attire. Not for the first time, she speculated about his proclivity for dark clothing and wondered how many pairs of black jeans one man could possibly own. On any other celebrity, she would assume it was some type of affectation, but Bryan didn’t strike her as the type to bother with something like that. He wore the same pair of disreputable boots he always wore, and had a case containing what Callie assumed to be an acoustic guitar slung across his back.
Callie capped the nail polish and hastily placed her feet on the chilly hardwood floor. “Bryan, I thought you weren’t coming over until later today,” she said, her mild irritation evident in her tone.
Bryan joined her on the sofa, sliding his guitar onto the floor. “I know, but I really wasn’t doing anything, so I came on over. I hope you don’t mind.” He quickly changed the subject, knowing full well that she probably did mind. “Were you painting your toenails when I came in?” He looked down at her feet. Callie nodded. “You want me to finish them for you?”
An image of Bryan sucking her toes flashed through her mind, exacerbating the ache between her legs that started whenever she came within fifty feet of this man. Her feet had always been an erogenous zone, and she couldn’t imagine anything more dangerous than letting him get
As was his habit, Bryan had called earlier, looking for something to do. As it was too rainy and cold for hiking, he planned to come over later to just hang out. She twisted around on the sofa, trying to position her toes so that she could paint them more easily. Just when she was adjusted perfectly, the doorbell downstairs rang. Wondering exasperatedly who would dare disturb her idyll, Callie sighed and called out to Tonya to answer the door. After a brief interval, Tonya came back up the stairs with Bryan in tow, then returned to the kitchen, where she had been putting on the kettle for tea. Glancing over her shoulder to ascertain who their unexpected guest was, Callie immediately repositioned herself on the sofa into a more dignified posture. She was also embarrassed by the extremely casual clothes she was wearing: a pair of blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a coordinating baby tee-shirt. Resisting the urge to rush into her bedroom to change, she forced herself to sit still. Changing clothes would mean she was trying look nice for him, something she was determined not to do. His presence also made her self-conscious about her bra-less state and she rounded her shoulders slightly to conceal the fact, then thought better of it when she realized that given the minute size of her breasts, he probably wouldn’t know the difference. Despite her anxiety, she smiled slightly as she studied Bryan’s attire. Not for the first time, she speculated about his proclivity for dark clothing and wondered how many pairs of black jeans one man could possibly own. On any other celebrity, she would assume it was some type of affectation, but Bryan didn’t strike her as the type to bother with something like that. He wore the same pair of disreputable boots he always wore, and had a case containing what Callie assumed to be an acoustic guitar slung across his back.
Callie capped the nail polish and hastily placed her feet on the chilly hardwood floor. “Bryan, I thought you weren’t coming over until later today,” she said, her mild irritation evident in her tone.
Bryan joined her on the sofa, sliding his guitar onto the floor. “I know, but I really wasn’t doing anything, so I came on over. I hope you don’t mind.” He quickly changed the subject, knowing full well that she probably did mind. “Were you painting your toenails when I came in?” He looked down at her feet. Callie nodded. “You want me to finish them for you?”
An image of Bryan sucking her toes flashed through her mind, exacerbating the ache between her legs that started whenever she came within fifty feet of this man. Her feet had always been an erogenous zone, and she couldn’t imagine anything more dangerous than letting him get
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