Lachlan dunked his fingers into the bowl of water without complaint. He was humoring me, but that was because I’d made him a sandwich followed by an epic blow job, if I did say so myself.
“Do you do this to yourself?” he asked.
A laugh popped out of me. “No, sir, I don’t do my own nails.”
His mouth twitched. “Then why should I trust you with mine?”
I pulled his fingers out of the milky water and picked up my mini scrub brush. “Because I’ve been getting manis and pedis since I could walk. And because I think you know how well I can take care of your body—that includes your hands.”
Lachlan’s nails were stained from working on engines. It didn’t bother me. I barely even noticed anymore. And I loved how rough his fingers were. God, did I love it. But I also had this strong urge to take care of him, possibly since it seemed like he was always taking care of me.
And maybe I was still a little off-kilter with everything we’d both revealed last night. Lachlan had shown me we were okay through the hours we’d spent in bed this morning. This was me trying to find my own form of normalcy.
I still couldn’t believe he’d been there when Nate died. What were the chances? I didn’t know if it was fate or the universe balancing itself, but I couldn’t deny there was an element of inevitability that drew us together.
Helen walked through the kitchen, heading to the fridge. Her footsteps stopped, and she backtracked, raising an eyebrow at Lachlan.
“What’s happening here?”
“A manicure,” he said. “My girl is cleaning me up.”
Helen’s eyes met mine. They were filled with glee. “Okay, no shame in that game. Think Theo would be down? This is cute.”
I scrubbed at Lachlan’s nails, laughing. “It took some special convincing.”
Lachlan cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. Helen snorted.
“I’ll remember that.” She grabbed a drink from the fridge and wandered out, leaving us alone.
Lachlan relaxed after a minute or two, kicking back in his chair. A warmth settled in my stomach seeing him like that after everything.
“I think you like this,” I said.
He cocked a grin. “I don’t deny it. There isn’t much you could do to me I wouldn’t like.”
My eyes darted up to his. “No other girlfriends ever tried to give you a manicure?”
He chuckled. “Nope. The last girlfriend I had was back in high school. Manicures were the last thing on either of our minds.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Ew, I don’t want to hear that.”
That made him laugh harder. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying, high school kids aren’t too concerned about their nails. We spent more time thinking about where to find alcohol for our next field party.”
“Field party? I love it.”
He jerked his chin. “Gabe mentioned bonfires. You go to those?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. Everyone did. And the alcohol just seemed to magically appear. I certainly never spent any time worrying about where it was acquired. But let’s circle back to these high school girlfriends.”
“Don’t even remember names,” he rumbled.
I picked up his clean hand and brought it to my mouth. “That is a very good answer.” I kissed each of his fingertips. “I love your hands.”
“Even when they’re filthy?”
“Even then, but only because they’re yours.”
“That’s sweet, Ellie.”