Page 28 of Your Place or Mine

“It is when there’s pastry involved. I’ll need more sweats if I keep eating like this.”

We turned the corner and passed a shop with a hand-lettered sign that read"Nailed It: Manicures & More."The sign was framed by potted lavender and a window display of fake hands dramatically holding nail polish bottles like they were auditioning for a soap opera.

“That’s the spot,” I said, pointing.

Melanie stopped, squinting at the sign. “Wait. You made an appointment here?”

“Yeah. Desiree’s one of my tenants, and I figured it was time to introduce myself and, you know, make sure she didn’t hate me on sight.”

“I love that you’re bribing your tenants with manicure appointments.”

“Bold of you to assume I won’t bring snacks too.”

We stepped inside to a burst of soft pop music and the unmistakable smell of acetone and coconut lotion. The interior was bright and beachy, with turquoise walls, whitewashed cabinets, and a wall of glittering nail polish bottles organized like a rainbow exploded and decided to stay.

“Lydia!” A woman in a lemon-yellow jumpsuit and five-inch heels waved from behind the front counter. Her hair was styled in a cascade of curls, and her nails sparkled like disco balls. “You’re early. That’s either impressive or suspicious.”

“Impressively suspicious,” I said, grinning. “Hi, Desiree. This is my best friend Melanie, who insisted on tagging along.”

Melanie wiggled her fingers. “I heard there were foot massages.”

Desiree eyed her shoes. “And judging by those ballet flats, you need one.”

Melanie gasped, delighted. “You get me.”

Within five minutes, Melanie had her feet soaking in a pink glittery bowl, and Desiree had already talked me into a polish change and possibly a life-altering brow tint. I hadn’t decided yet.

“So,” Desiree said, settling onto her stool and pulling on gloves. “How’s the new landlady gig treating you?”

I hesitated. “It’s… great. Still figuring things out, of course. But everyone’s been welcoming.” I laughed and shook my head. “Well, you’ve been welcoming. You’re the first I’ve met.”

“Well….” Melanie’s voice went up an octave. “Technically, you’ve met one other.”

I shot her a warning glare over my mug.

Desiree’s eyes lit up like she’d just been asked to spill the best tea in Washington state. “Ah. You must mean Callum.”

“I didn’t say that,” I mumbled, suddenly very interested in the wall of nail polish colors.

“He’s not exactly subtle,” Desiree said, laughing. “That man could scowl at a rainbow and make it apologize.”

Melanie snorted. “Oh good, so it’s not just Lydia.”

I kicked her ankle under the table, missed, and splashed water on my feet.

Desiree leaned in. “Let me give you the full scoop. He’s loyal, stubborn, protective as hell, and built like a man who could carry three kegs on each shoulder. Which, coincidentally, he probably has.”

“Sounds charming,” I muttered.

“Heis, once he trusts you,” she said, dipping a brush into a glittery lavender polish. “But good luck getting there. Took me a year before he started saying more than ‘morning.’”

Melanie looked way too pleased with this information. “And now?”

“Now he says ‘morning’ with a nod,” Desiree said, laughing. “Which is practically marriage in the Callum language.”

I rolled my eyes. “So he’s just naturally cranky. Good to know.”

Desiree smiled. “Cranky, yes. But it doesn't mean. He’s just… cautious. Doesn’t like change. Doesn’t trust it.”

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