The Ex Files (Ocean View #1)(35)

“I’m not going to push—”

“Then don’t, Gabi.”

“But I think… I think maybe he likes you, Cassie.” I don’t reply, instead ignoring her as I flick through my tops, landing on a pretty blush-colored one. “I know you don’t date because of what you told me the other day, with your dad. It’s valid. Totally. But also… you’re missing out on so much.”

“How’s your relationship?”

“What relationship?”

“Exactly.”

“You keep an open mind on this, and I’ll tell you what’s holding me back. I’ll let you set me up.” I stop, then once again pull my phone back to see who I’m talking to.

“Gabi, I can’t—”

“No pressure. But when you come in Monday, I get all the details, regardless. And if it’s what I hope for, then we’ll get drinks after work and I’ll fill you in.” My psychology degree is itching to learn more about my friendly, bubbly assistant who has become a close friend seemingly overnight. To find out why she never has plans, why she loves the idea of romance and love but is single herself. I don’t answer, though, contemplating why I’m even considering her proposal. He’s a match. Just not for me.

“I’ll talk to you Monday, Cassie. Just… keep it in mind.” With that, she hangs up, and I’m left wondering what on earth I’m going to do.

But I don’t have long to worry about that, because when I sit on my bed to unzip my boot, it’s stuck.

I tug at it for long minutes, working up a sweat and panicking.

I knew flat boots were a bad idea.

Now I’ll be stuck in these forever, stuck in this stained sweater dress forever because I won’t be able to take them off. Or maybe I’ll have to go to the hospital and have them cut off. Or perhaps I’ll have lost all circulation to my leg because I’m incessantly tugging at them and I’ll have to get my leg removed because that’s the next step, right? Leg amputation?

And then forever, I’ll be reminded of the one time I let my guard down and wore flat shoes for a man and thought about maybe, just maybe…

No.

I need to calm down.

My anxiety is getting the better of me.

I stop, taking a deep, deep breath and thinking about my options.

Option one: choose a different dress and head out.

But that would mean I’d still need to take these boots off later.

Option two: cut them off myself. Except, the only scissors I have are from the knife set I got when I moved into my own apartment ten years ago and are so dull they can’t even open those annoying plastic security boxes. They’d break for sure. Then I’d have to buy a new pair, and I’d be out the way too high cost of these boots and a new pair of scissors. And really, how often will I use the scissors? I have a pair at the office I could use. They were kitchen shears, too, I think—what’s the actual point of kitchen shears? What are you supposed to shear? Is it for food? I’m not—

Focus, Cassie.

Why is it every time I have a mini-crisis, my mind goes off on weird tangents on the most random topics? Like kitchen scissors.

Except, I know option three is the only responsible and reasonable option, so I’m avoiding thinking about it.

Because option three: go out into the kitchen and ask Luke to unzip my boot.

The thought sends a traitorous shiver down my spine.

I blame Gabi for putting the thought that I could be selfish in my mind.

Still, it’s the only one that makes sense. So I straighten my shoulders, open my door, and head into the kitchen, where I catch Luke staring at the wedding invite for my father’s wedding with a confused look on his face. He looks at me, still dressed in the same stained outfit, the confusion deepening.

“My boot is stuck.”

“What?”

“My boot. The zipper. The dumb flat shoes you made me wear.” He smiles with recognition. “My heels would never betray me like this.”

“If you changed a tire in heels, you’d fall on your ass.” I roll my eyes.

“Can you help me?”

“Yeah, come here, sweetheart,” he says and gestures for me to put a foot on the chair he was just sitting on. I do as he asks but wobble, losing my footing and nearly falling.

Great. Now I’m stuck in these boots, in a stained dress, and he’s going to watch me fall on my ass. My luck, he’ll see my panties as I fall. Kill me now.

Except I don’t fall. Instead, a thick arm goes around me, catching me and pulling me into Luke’s muscular chest.

“Woah, careful there.” Looking down at me, his eyes are soft and sweet, but something blazes behind them. “You good?” I nod, the words no longer working in my brain or on my lips. “Where’s the zip?” he asks, taking one small step back once he deems me to be stable once more.

But I’m fooling him because I’m not stable at all. Slowly, my entire world is falling apart, tipping upside down as each of my rules gets shattered, as each of my carefully placed dominos tip over with just one look from this man.

Still, I point to the back of my leg where the first of the zippers is. His fingers go there, rough, warm fingers brushing my bare skin on the back of my thigh, and my heart stops, breath hitching audibly. He looks from his hands to my eyes with a slight smirk playing on his lips.