In fact, Jan rarely saw Thomas in anything but his leather, steel-toed work boots. Winter, spring, summer and fall, the man kept his great big clodhopper feet tucked inside a pair of bleached white socks and those well-worn boots. But Jan knew Thomas’s feet. They were like his hands to her now, so familiar she could draw a perfect picture of them from memory. During two years together, Thomas and Jan had bit by bit uncovered every private, intimate part of each other’s bodies. At first they had done nothing but hold hands. Jan adored Thomas’s big, callused fingers and thick palms. They made her feel small and fragile. A man with hands like that could take care of a girl. And Thomas had. But he wasn’t satisfied with just threading his fingers through Jan’s. Neither was she. Pretty soon, they were kissing. And then holding each other close. And finally came the day he took off his boots. “Good gravy!”
