"Clearly a conspiracy." She continued to scrape the sticky mess from the sole of her new Louboutin heel (okay, the knockoff, fast-fashion, budget-friendly version).
An awkward pause stretched between them like the big ol' wad of goo she tried to dislodge from her sole.
"I'm having a good day today," she blurted. What compelled her to share this with a hot-guy stranger? She had no idea.
"Zach," he said, those laugh lines deepening. "And clearly your day involves a battle with sidewalk hazards."
Something about his easy smile made her want to keep talking. "The gum is only a minor setback to an otherwise perfect day."
"Perfect?" He raised an eyebrow. "Now that's a dangerous word."
"I like dangerous words." She finally freed her shoe from the last of the sticky residue. "They keep life interesting."
"So does breaking from routine." He stepped closer and her breath caught. "Like helping strange women with their shoe emergencies."
"I'm not strange, and this isn't a shoe emergency." The words came out fainter than she intended.
His pupils flared. "What would you call it?"
"A temporary lapse in judgment." But she smiled as she said it.
"Temporary lapses can be the best kind of lapses." His voice dropped lower, sending a shiver down her spine. "They're the ones we don't see coming."
Their gazes tangled and, for a moment, the busy street around them faded away. Nothing existed except the electricity sparking in the air between them and the dangerous possibility of what might happen next.
Zach held his hand out for something.
She glanced to his hand. Then back to his face. Her brain short-circuited. Obviously, the shoe. Obviously. Right?
He moved his hand. "I'm just going to?—"
On autopilot, she handed him the shoe.
"Oh." He seemed like he wasn't quite sure why it was in his hand. "Let me … uh…?"
He sort of shrugged and then knelt to help her slip it back on like he was some kind of Prince Charming and it was a glass slipper. Instead of some random guy on a sidewalk with a knock-off pair of designer cheapies.
She was about to say something witty. At least, she hoped it would be witty, when she wobbled slightly. His free hand reached to steady her, wrapping warm and firm around her ankle.
The contact sent a little sizzle decidedly north. His thumb brushed ever so slightly against her skin as he helped slide her foot back in the now gum-free shoe.
Her breath hitched and her pulse raced inappropriately. Entirely unwelcome. And, apparently, not stopping anytime soon.
He had a knowing look, like he knew that she'd sizzled like that for a guy wearing well-worn jeans and a plain T-shirt. He stood, and it was not fair that on his athletic frame, even casual clothes seemed tailored.
"Thank you," she said, adjusting her foot. "That's so nice of you to help me out. People just… aren't nice lately. Like, at all. Seems like everyone needs a dose of happy. You know?"
"Yeah, no problem." He smirked as he reached around her and grabbed the key fob off the top of the trash, then stuffed it in his pocket.
Her smile froze.
"You weren't being nice to me, were you?" she said, the numb dose of reality taking hold. "You only wanted your key?" She said the last bit extra slowly as it sank in. "You held your hand out for your key. Oh my God. I swear to you I am not some kind of deranged Cinderella."
Though, if one had to announce that, then maybe she was a touch off? She melted into a puddle of embarrassment, her cheeks heating enough to likely match the color of her pink suit.
"Don't overthink it. I'm not." The slight breeze brushed his dusky blonde hair across his forehead.
"I mean, I'm not overthinking it." She totally was, but he didn't know what was going on in her brain.
