She glared. “Bossy much?”
“Much.” He pushed the box closer to her.
“I didn’t know my shoes offended you this badly.”
He sniffed at them in disdain. “Shoes say a lot about a person.”
“And what do my shoes say about me—dare I ask?”
He cringed. “Let’s just say that they don’t speak to your true nature.”
She rolled her hands, encouraging him to continue.
He kicked one of her shoes with the toe of his sneaker. “These are boring, uninteresting. You are neither.”
She stared at him. “You think I’m interesting?”
“Excruciatingly.”
“I’m not sure that means what you think it means.”
He caught the quote fromThe Princess Bride,and it made his heart light. However, he’d picked that word because he meant every syllable. She was so interesting that it was unbearable. A man could lose sleep thinking about her—he’dlost sleep contemplating Bree. Therefore, he didn’t respond.
She lifted her foot and slid it inside the boot. “I feel like my toes are being strangled.”
“It’s a pointed toe.”
She frowned. “It’s a pinching apparatus.”
Owen had to turn away so she wouldn’t see his you’re-cute smile. No one on earth talked like Bree. Pinching apparatus?
She rustled through the tissue and came up with a darker brown leather boot with a black fringe. He hadn’t pointed to that boot when talking to the salesgirl, who now hovered hopefully near the register. She was the same girl who’d helped him and Kyle when they came in for polka-appropriate wear. He hoped she worked on commission, because he would pay lots of money to get rid of Bree’s ugly shoes.
Bree’s eyes danced right along with the fringe on the boots.
“See?” He pointed at her. “That is why shoes are important. They make you happy.”
She giggled. “I can’t believe I’m even trying these on!” She slipped her feet inside both boots and pranced back and forth. “They’re surprisingly comfortable.”
Caught up in her enjoyment, Owen grabbed her around the middle as she pranced by. “But can you polka in them?”
Her eyes sparkled with challenge. “Let’s find out.”
He bounced twice and they were off, galloping around the clothing racks and belt buckle display cases. When they finished their loop, Bree was breathing hard and smiling so big her glasses lifted.
Not thinking, Owen leaned down and kissed her. It was a fast kiss, the kind that a husband gives his wife when he comes home from work or a boyfriend gives his girlfriend knowing her father is on the other side of the door, but it slammed into him like a 350-pound defensive lineman.
He froze in place. Bree pressed her palm to her forehead, not breaking eye contact. “What was that for?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know. I—I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Her nose crinkled in concentration.
He snatched his hands away from her, leaving a gaping hole between them. “I crossed a line. It won’t happen again.”
“Okay.” She dropped to the seat and leaned over, fiddling with the fringe on the boots.
“Okay?” She was okay with not kissing again? He barely resisted taking her by the arms and testing her resolve. “Bree?” He sat next to her, careful to keep several inches between them. “I really am sorry. Please don’t let this get weird between us.”
