I ignore that bit. No good will come from talking about that night. Not if Harper still thinks I’m hung up on Red. And while I can see why she might be apprehensive about my intentions, I’m not the kind of guy to fuck around. I don’t do casual sex. Hell, I haven’t even dated since last year. “Come on. You know you want it.”
She turns and shoots me a dark look. “You know you sound like a creeper, right?”
I consider my word choice. “Fair point, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”
“It’s unprofessional.”
“It’s a foot rub, not a full-body massage,” I fire back. “Unless you want to upgrade?”
She rolls her eyes and pushes the cart over to the door. “Hard pass.”
Her scrubs are wrinkled and her hair’s come loose from her braid. It’s been a long day and she’s spent most of it on her feet, so, while there’s definitely a part of me that’s physically attracted to Harper and would love to get naked with her, that’s not what this is about. I just want to do something nice for her, and since I’m stuck in bed, my options are severely limited.
“You’ve been on your feet all day,” I say, trying a different approach. “They have to be killing you. Why not let me massage them?” I hold up my palms. “Strictly platonic. I won’t even hit on you.”
She snorts. “You say that like it’s a sacrifice.”
“Trust me, it is.”
But it’s one I’m willing to make if it puts her at ease, because I’m not just in this for the night, I’m in it for the long haul. I meant it earlier when I said we have chemistry. And I fully intend to explore it, if she’ll just give me a chance.
Harper chews her bottom lip, the pink flesh plumping around her teeth. “No funny business?”
“No funny business,” I promise, scooting over and patting the empty spot on the bed next to me.
She slides back into the bedside chair and kicks off her Crocs. She hesitates, but then props her feet up on the edge of the bed where I can reach them. I shift, taking in the blue and gold District 12 socks.
“The Hunger Games?” I cup her right heel and gently lift her foot. “You really are a book nerd.”
She grins and it lights up her whole her face. “Was there ever really any doubt?”
“No, I suppose not.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I like smart women, but then I remember my promise not to hit on her, so, yeah. I’ll save that for later, I guess.
Though she’s quiet as I plant my thumb on the soft underside of her foot and press it into her arch, I’m pretty sure her eyes roll back in her head.
“How’s that feel?” I ask, repeating the motion.
“So good I’m trying to remember why this is a bad idea.” Her eyes drift shut and she tips her head back, leaning against the chair’s headrest.
“I think you mean why it’s a good idea.” I move on to the ball of her foot, squeezing firmly and moving my thumb in a circular motion.
“You’re actually pretty good at this whole foot massage thing,” she says, one eye popping open. “If football doesn’t work out, you totally have a future as a masseuse.”
“Thanks, I think?” I chuckle, sweeping my thumb across her heel, the way the team trainers do after a hard workout. “Pro ball was never my goal. I’m a Communications major. I want to break into sports broadcasting.”
“Football?”
“If I’m lucky. The NFL’s probably a long shot, but I’d be just as happy with collegiate sports.”
Just need to finish my degree first.
My chest tightens and I glance at my left leg. I haven’t seen what it looks like underneath all those bandages yet. I close my eyes or stare at the ceiling when the doc comes in to look at it, because, honestly? I’m not sure I could handle the sight.
Not when my whole future is riding on a full recovery.
“You’ve got a nice voice for broadcast.” Harper opens her mouth to say something else, but whatever she’s going to say is lost to a quiet moan when I slide my thumb down the arch of her foot. “Oh-my-God-that-feels-amazing.”
Eager to please, I repeat the motion, earning another breathy moan.
