Marley hung up our coats, brushing snow off the shoulders. “Those pastries were incredible though. I think I ate my weight in strudel.”
“And those cupcakes,” I added, collapsing onto her couch with a satisfied sigh. “Carmen really knows what she’s doing in the kitchen.”
“Mmm, she does.” She settled onto the other end of the couch, looking at me sprawled across the cushions. “Your feet must be killing you. Those boots weren’t exactly made for walking in snow.”
I groaned, wiggling my toes inside my socks. “You have no idea. I think I have blisters on my feet.”
Without saying anything, she reached over and gently pulled my legs across her lap, her hands finding my feet through the fabric of my socks… and oh my God… it felt warm. Then her thumbs pressed into the arch of my left foot, and I couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped my lips.
“Oh God, that feels amazing,” I breathed, my eyes falling shut before I could stop myself.
“Good,” she said simply, her voice lower than before. Her hands worked methodically, finding every sore spot. “Just relax.”
I tried to, but there was something about the way her hands moved that made it impossible to fully unwind. Every touch seemed to send little sparks up my legs, and I found myself hyper-aware of every point where our bodies connected.
“You’re really good at this,” I murmured, opening my eyes to find her watching me intently.
“You think so?” she asked me, her eyes never leaving mine.
“I know so, and geez, you’re making me shy with the way you’re looking at me,” I said as I covered my face with my hands.
She smiled, her brow raised. “How am I looking at you, little princess?” she teased.
“Excuse me… I’m not little. I’m twenty-four,” I said, then added with mock indignation, “which is perfectly grown-up and mature, thank you very much.”
Her hands paused for just a second. “Twenty-four.”
“Yes. How old are you anyway? You never told me.”
“Twenty-eight.”
I sat up straighter, grinning. “Ooh, big aunty! No wonder you’re so good at taking care of people.”
“Big aunty?” She laughed, though her cheeks pinked slightly. “Four years is nothing.”
“Four years is a whole university degree,” I teased. “When I was twenty, you were already graduated and working. That’s like practically… ancient.”
“Ancient,” she repeated, but she was smiling now, her hands resuming their massage. “I might be ancient, but at least I’m not the one who listens to music from the eighties,” she added.
“Hey, that has nothing to do with age. That’s just good taste.” I let my head fall back against the couch cushions as she found a particularly tender spot.
“Good taste, indeed,” Marley said again, her hands kneading firmly at my calves. “You know, this actually explains a lot,” she added after a while.
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Tell me about that.”
“You’re an old soul, K.” Her upper lip curved into a smile as her hands stilled again, this time longer. “You’re very grounded. You’re very calm. It’s giving Taurus energy.”
“Wait, how the hell did you figure that out?” I asked, my brows raising higher, and I think she picked up on the expression on my face.
She lifted both hands innocently. “I’m not a psychic, okay. I just saw your date of birth on your ID once. It fell out of your bag. So relax, I wasn’t snooping, I promise.”
The first thing I wanted to say after her little confession was that I didn’t mind if she was actually snooping into my things, but I didn’t want to sound crazy, so I pressed my lips together and said the next thing that came into my mind.
“So I’ve been psychoanalysed through astrology now?”
“Completely,” she said. “And you fit it perfectly. Makes sense why you act like you’re fifty inside.”
“Excuse you. What about you then, oh wise one?”
