“Well,” I said, “I never say no to ice cream.”
He smiled slightly.
“But can we drive?”
Liam blinked.
I pointed at my heels. “My feet are staging a formal protest.”
“Oh,” he said slowly. “I hope this doesn’t come across as creepy.”
That was a fascinating opening. “Proceed.”
“When I saw you were wearing heels,” he said carefully, “I grabbed your sandals on my way out of the restroom before we left the apartment.”
I stared at him.
He reached down and pulled one boot slightly forward, then took out one of my sandals.
My brain stopped working.
Before I could respond, he reached into the other boot and pulled out the second one.
“I put one in each boot,” he explained, holding them out to me as I continued staring.
“I remembered you complaining about your heels the other night during the… unfortunate incident.”
The unfortunate incident. The phrase nearly made me laugh, but my brain was still stuck on the sandals.
“You brought my shoes,” I said slowly.
“I thought you might want them.”
“You carried my shoes.”
“Yes.”
“Inside your boots.”
“Yes.”
I genuinely had no idea what to say. Because that was…
Incredibly thoughtful. Extremely Liam.
And very inconvenient for my long-term emotional stability.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said finally.
His face fell slightly. “You don’t want them.”
“Oh no,” I said quickly, already stepping out of the heels. “I want them very much.”
The relief in my feet was immediate and dramatic as I slipped into the sandals.
I closed my eyes briefly. “Sweet mercy.”
Liam chuckled as he scooped up my heels and walked over to the truck, setting them in the back. “Better?”
