The shoes Tracy had been hiding in the shoe storeroom at Nordstrom’s for me for the last six weeks. Shoes I wanted so badly I could taste it. Shoes I told myself I would save to afford. Shoes I was never going to buy because I could never afford them, even with Tracy’s discount.
But my mission was to own a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes before I died. Some women had career goals. Some women wanted to be good mothers. Some women wanted to do their bit to save the world. My life goal was owning really beautiful, really expensive shoes.
My eyes lifted to Hawk.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
“Those the shoes you wanted?” Hawk asked.
I blinked.
“Yes,” I answered.
“You got ‘em.”
It took some effort but I succeeded in not hyperventilating.
“You bought them for me?” I asked as it hit me. Security system. Panic buttons. Window repair. Shoes that cost over seven hundred dollars.
What was going on?
“You wanted them,” he answered like it was as simple as that.
I felt my head get light. “How? Why?”
“Babe, you gonna put them on or what?”
“How? Why?” I repeated.
He sighed. “Your friend said you had them on hold. I know where your friend works. I sent my girl to find them. She found your girl, your girl got ‘em off hold, I bought ‘em, now they’re here.”
He stopped speaking so I prompted, “That’s the how, what’s the why?”
“Gwen, you wanted them.”
“That’s it?” I asked.
“That’s it,” he confirmed.
“I also want my own personal tropical island paradise,” I told him. “Are you going to get that for me too?”
The unhappy look shifted from his face and his mouth twitched. “That might take awhile.”
I stared at him and my belly felt squishy, my heart felt like it had grown a couple sizes and was threatening to burst out of my chest and something tingly was happening in my throat.
Then I forced out, “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything,” he returned. “Just put on the f**kin’ shoes so we can go eat. I’m hungry.”
“Okay,” I whispered, pulled out a chair, sat, unstrapped my strappy, black sandals and slid on my new, silver, watersnake, kickass Jimmy Choo platforms.
Just like when I tried them on at Nordstrom’s. Utter perfection.
I sat with one calf outstretched, staring at my foot and thinking I might have just found heaven on earth, shoe-style, when Hawk spoke.
“You gonna sit there and stare at those shoes for the next decade or you gonna get your ass in my car?”
My head tipped back and my feet were encased in Jimmy Choo shoes so Hawk being annoying deflected right off me.
“I’m going to stare at them for a decade,” I replied, smiling at him.
His eyes got that heated and intense look, my heart swelled even further and he said, “Babe, quit f**kin’ around and let’s go.”
I was still smiling when I stood, grabbed my purse and clutch off the table and walked to him on my new Jimmy Choos while Hawk watched.
Then I stopped close to him, put the hand that was clutching my wrap to his chest and I leaned in.
“Thanks, Hawk,” I whispered because I didn’t know what else to say. Those words were far from enough but I had to say something. And not because he bought me a beautiful pair of shoes that I wanted but because he heard Tracy mention it in passing and he sent his girl out to get them for me. And because I had a break-in and in two days my window was fixed and I had a security system installed. And he was sticking around to protect me and, because he was, likely due to his, Dad’s and Dog’s efforts, the fire that started in my parents’ living room didn’t engulf the house and my laptop had been saved.
And since “thanks” wasn’t enough, I leaned in, lifted up and touched my mouth to his.
The second I did this, his head slanted and his arms closed around me, tight, yanking me deep into his body as his tongue invaded my mouth and my touch of lips turned into a full-blown, super-hot, leading-to-sex-on-my-battered-farm-table kiss.
My clutch and wrap had fallen to the floor because both my arms were around his neck, my body was plastered to his, one of his arms was tight around my back, the other hand had slid in my dress and down and was cupping the cheek of my ass, skin to skin (I was wearing a thong, which was a smart move on my part not only to avoid panty lines but because his warm, strong hand cupping my ass felt freaking great) when I heard my father clear his throat.
My body jerked, Hawk’s head came up and turned to the door as his hand slid out of my dress and up to the small of my back but his arms didn’t move even as my hands went to his shoulders and I pressed.
Slowly, my head turned and I saw my Dad walk in, a small smile playing at his lips, his eyes to the floor.
Oh my God. My father just saw me in a clinch with Hawk. A clinch that included Hawk’s hand in my dress cupping my ass.
Kill me. Someone. Kill me.
“Meredith forgot the bottle opener,” Dad mumbled as he walked to the utensils drawer.
“We might be late,” Hawk replied, still not letting me go, “or not home at all.”
Oh my God.
My eyes flew to his face and got squinty but he missed this because he was looking over my shoulder at Dad.
“Right,” Dad muttered, turning back to the door as Hawk let me go then stepped back and bent to retrieve my bag and wrap. “Have a good time,” Dad called as he walked out of the kitchen.
“Later, Dad,” I called back, my voice sounding strangled.
Then Hawk’s hands were on me, he turned me so my back was to him and I felt my wrap settle on my shoulders.
Then he turned me to face him and handed me my clutch.
“Did that just happen?” I whispered.
“Yep,” Hawk replied, grabbed my hand and tugged me to the door.
“My Dad just saw us making out with your hand on my ass,” I added detail, just to confirm.
Hawk opened the door and pulled me through, repeating, “Yep.”
“Well, at least I got my Jimmy Choos before I died. Now you can take me to the nearest railway crossing and I’ll throw myself in front of a train.”
Hawk kept his hand firm in mine as he led me down the steps of the back stoop and toward the gate of my backyard and he did this while chuckling.
“I’m not finding this funny,” I told him as he lifted the latch on the gate, pulled it open and tugged me through.