“I’m fine,” I said. “What is it? You know I like to sleep in.”
“I know, but a huge delivery just came for you.”
“Huh? I’m not expecting anything.”
“All I know is that it’s here, and your name’s on it.”
Curiosity won out over sleeping in. I scrambled out of bed and slid my bare feet into slippers. “It’s probably a mistake.”
Sure enough, two boxes—one large, one small—sat on our tiny table, and both were addressed to me.
I grabbed a steak knife out of the flatware drawer and cut the small one open first. Inside was a shoebox. “Oh!” I opened it and found my shoes from last night, the heel now repaired.
“What is it?” Mo asked.
I lifted out the shoes. “The heel I broke. Reid said he’d have it repaired.”
“That’s some quick service.”
“Sure is. I guess money talks.”
Mo giggled. “If that’s your shoes, what can possibly be in the big one?”
“Wait,” I said, picking up a note. “It’s handwritten.”
Good as new. Looking forward to our dinner tonight.
Reid
“What’s it say?”
I handed the note to Mo.
She scanned it. “Hmm. I’m getting more of those third-wheel vibes.”
“How?”
“He says he’s looking forward to his dinner with you.”
“Yes. It’d be impolite to say he wasn’t looking forward to it. This is a basic note.”
“I think I shouldn’t join you.”
“Yes, you should,” I said. “I want you there.”
The thought of dining alone with Reid Wolfe scared the hell out of me.
Mo giggled. “If you say so. Now open the big one!”
I slid the steak knife under the packing tape and flipped the cardboard box open. Inside were packing peanuts, which I hated. They got everywhere!
They didn’t stop Mo, though. She pawed through the peanuts until our floor looked like snow had fallen and pulled out another shoebox. “Louboutins!”
“What?”
She shoved the red box in my face. “Louboutins! In your size! Oh my God.” She pulled out another box. “Prada! And Jimmy Choo!” She waved her hands in front of her face. “This is total shoe porn!”
I wrinkled my forehead. “What?”
“Look at these!” She opened the Louboutin box and picked up a cotton bag. “May I?”
“Yeah. Sure.” My mind had turned numb. What was going on?
She pulled out a pair of black stiletto pumps. “Gorgeous! And that red sole is to die for!” She threw one to me.
Oddly, I caught it instinctively.
“Try these on. They’ll be amazing on you.”
I regarded the four-inch heel. “They’ll make me six feet tall.”
“So? They’re spectacular.”
I slid my feet out of my slippers and into the Louboutins. They were a little tight, but no more so than any new shoe. I wobbled a little, but I’d get used to the skinny heel. I could walk in anything, thanks to my years as a showgirl.
“Wow,” Mo said. “You already have great legs, but those shoes make them even more amazing!” She continued pawing through the boxes. “There’s at least five grand in shoes here.”
My eyes shot wide. “Five grand?” I gulped.
“At least. Probably closer to ten.”
“Is there a note?” I asked numbly.
“Looks like… Yeah, here it is.” She handed me an envelope.
My fingers trembled as I broke the seal and pulled out a note card.
A few more things for your pretty feet. Enjoy.
Reid
I handed the note to Mo.
“He’s not really a poet, is he?” she said. “Not that it matters with his looks and bucks.”
My jaw dropped to the floor. I couldn’t accept these. Repairing my second-hand shoes was one thing, but this? The man spent ten grand on my feet, which weren’t even pretty, by the way. They were too big, and my little toes were crooked.
“I so wish we wore the same size,” Mo was saying, “so I could borrow all of these.”
I didn’t reply.
“Hello? Earth to Zee?”
I shook my head to clear it and picked up my jaw from the floor. “I’m sending them back. I can’t keep them.”
“Why not?”
“Because…I don’t even know the guy. And he…”
He wants me to tell my story.
That was the truth. Reid Wolfe wanted something from me, and he was trying to buy me.
Problem was? I wasn’t for sale. At any price.
Plus, unlike Mo, I didn’t care much about shoes and clothes. Sure, these shoes were beautiful and I’d love to have them, but even if I could afford them, I wouldn’t buy them for myself. One pair, maybe. But five? No way.
Mo was drooling over the Jimmy Choos when I walked—still in the Louboutins—to the small kitchenette and shoved a K-cup into the Keurig. Coffee. Coffee would help me see clearly. Right now, my mind was a screwed-up mess.
The machine whirred as it squeezed out coffee into my favorite mug. I took a cautious sip, making sure I didn’t burn my tongue. Then I walked the few steps back to where Mo was trying on the Jimmy Choos.
“Too big.” She sighed.
“Bet you never thought you’d wish for bigger feet.” I couldn’t help a chuckle.
“I’m only a size smaller than you are,” she said, “and at the moment, you’re right.”
“You’re a size and a half smaller,” I reminded her.
“I could stuff the toes.”
I laughed. “You would. But no deal. They’re going back.”
She shielded the boxes with her body. “Shh! They’ll hear you!”
I rolled my eyes as I removed the Louboutins. Oddly, I felt a little sad to take them off and see them go. These shoes probably represented three months of my income, and my feet seemed to feel the loss. I placed them back in their bag and nestled them into the box once more. Then I checked the delivery carton. The return address was Golden Personal Shopping.
Of course. Reid Wolfe used a personal shopper. Not that I thought for a minute that he’d gone in search of women’s shoes. Still, though, to see the evidence of a personal shopper bummed me out a bit.
I wasn’t sure why.
“Sorry, Mo.” I handed her the Jimmy Choo
