He started to rise. Ivy’s bare toes brushed his wrist.
“Cable guy,” said the man on the monitor. Marco, according to his lanyard.
“You’re good at that,” she said.
He didn’t grab. He didn’t lick or moan like some bad script. He simply cupped her heel in one palm, traced the line of her metatarsals with a fingertip, and pressed his thumb into the sore spot near her instep. A perfect, professional pressure. Not sexual. Tender. Like he’d studied her feet from across the room for an hour and memorized every tension line. Love Her Feet - Ivy Lebelle - The Cable Guy -05...
“No.” He knelt—not creepily, but gently—by the ottoman. “But I’ve seen that before. My mom had the same injury. You’re favoring so hard you’re going to throw your hip out.”
An hour later, he was done. Signal strong. WiFi configured. But he lingered.
Marco smiled—the first real smile of the afternoon. He wrapped both hands around her foot like it was something precious, and for the first time in weeks, Ivy Lebelle felt her body relax completely. He started to rise
A high-end apartment, mid-renovation. Late afternoon light slants through bare windows.
Marco shook his head. Then, quietly: “I noticed you’ve been keeping your left foot elevated even when the boot’s off. The arch must be taking extra weight.”
She extended her left leg, slowly, until her foot rested in his lap. Marco, according to his lanyard
“You’re looking at my feet,” she said, not accusing, just stating.
Ivy raised an eyebrow. “You an orthopedist now?”