Fake It Till You Bake It(27)

“I did.” He sat back on his heels and looked up at her.

She could get used to having this large, ridiculously handsome man on his knees, his thigh muscles straining against the fabric of his pants, trying to please her in whatever fashion she so desired. She shook her head. Those were dangerous, fantasy-inducing thoughts she needed to exorcise from her brain and never think of again. “Why?”

“Because I noticed that after standing on your feet for hours yesterday, you were hobbling a little bit. And as much as you loved those shoes, I could tell you were cursing them.”

He’d been paying attention to her state of being and acted on what he’d seen? She would not smile. She would not. “Oh.”

He took a deep breath. “And also because I need to apologize for how I acted. I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed lately, and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Thank God she was already sitting down. He’d shocked every ounce of tension out of her body. She would have melted to the ground in an ungainly, undignified heap. “Oh.”

He flashed a killer smile that sent her heart catapulting in her chest. “That all you have to say?”

She tried to wrestle her brain matter back into a cogent being. “No, it’s not. I’m just shocked, but thank you for the apology. I wasn’t expecting it, but I appreciate it.” She paused. “Does this mean you’re not firing me?”

“Yes, although you did almost burn down my kitchen.”

“I did not burn down your kitchen!”

He held up a finger. “I said almost.”

“It was just a little smoke!” That was the mantra she’d been repeating to herself since she ran out of the place. It was really the only reason she showed up. Okay, and because of his “or else” text. Fine. She could admit it to herself. Not him, of course.

He reached for a pen and writing pad on his desk and made a mark.

She frowned. “What are you doing?”

“A demerit for insubordination. I think it’s in my best interest to keep a tally.” He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing. “I like statistics. Speaking of statistics, I didn’t know your shoe size, which is partially why I chose these.”

Her eyes dropped to the box on her lap. There weren’t many identifying characteristics on the box besides a size, indicating it was a men’s shoe box. She really hoped he hadn’t bought her men’s shoes.

He gestured, a soft smile playing around his mouth. “Open it up.”

Jada took a deep breath and lifted the lid. She reached into the box and pulled out …

Crocs?

She stared at the rubbery black clogs. “What are these?”

“Crocs.”

She huffed her frustration. “Yes, I know that, but why these shoes specifically?” She’d seen other people—people deprived of all fashion sense—wearing them occasionally, but it had never occurred to her to buy some for herself.

“Because I didn’t know your size and these are a little forgiving in that regard.”

“Oh, okay.” She could still be shocked and touched. Who knew? She’d guarded her emotions so much over the years that she’d almost forgotten she had the capacity to be affected by a kind gesture. A kind gesture from Donovan Dell, of all people. “Thank you.”

“I know a WTF meme is flashing above your head right now, but try them on. If you don’t like them, I’ll look the other way when you hand them over to Ella.”

Jada laughed. Dude had a sense of humor. Who knew? She’d indulge him by trying on the shoes, but she was positive her flats would do the trick. She slipped on the clogs, trying not to wince at how they made her feet look like they belonged to Mickey Mouse.

Donovan stood, holding out a hand. She grasped it and let him pull her to her feet. She flexed her toes.

“Oh. My. God.” The shoes were like little plush pillows that cradled her feet and felt amazing. Angels in heaven were weeping with joy. She was never taking them off. Like ever ever. Crocs were life.

“Good, huh?”

She wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face, but she couldn’t. “Thank you. As much as it pains me to admit it, you were right. I do like them. I guess this means you weren’t just being nice when you said you weren’t trying to get rid of me.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

Jada studied him. “You’re not going to rat me out to Grams.”

His lips pursed. “I did think about telling your grandma. That was the ‘or else’ part of the text.”

“I knew it!”

“But I never had any intention of following through on it.”

Her hands landed on her hips. “You really were just trying to rile me up to get me to show up.”

“I was.”

“Impressive. A word to the wise, though. Never ever refer to her as Grandma. She’s much too grand for that title, as she reminded me, my sister, and my cousins repeatedly growing up. Grams is the only acceptable term she would allow. According to her, it is the perfect combination of stately and comforting.”

He smiled. “I do love that woman.”

Genuine admiration shone in his eyes. Any person who could appreciate the force that was her grandmother was okay with her. “Me, too.”