Vanilla On Top(23)

Some of the coyness I witnessed earlier is missing from her as she struts back and forth on the carpet, testing out the sexy boots. The heels shape her calves and raise her firm butt, forcing her onto her toes. My eyes trail from the glint of metal on the zipper, up the snug fitting jeans, to linger on the overall enticing image she makes in the boots. I’m buying them for her even if she doesn’t want them. I’d love to see her wearing them out for an evening, or staying in with nothing else on.

“They feel fine,” she says while lowering herself once again to the chair. “But I don’t think I’ll wear them much.”

A naughty flash singes my mind: her on my bed wearing these boots, legs in the air, spread wide, while I thrust into her…a chill courses down my back. “You never know.” I smile at her while she reaches to unzip them. “You may wear them more than you think.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Let me buy them.”

She looks up from her task, surprise etching her features. “What?”

“And the first pair, too.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t need you to buy shoes for me, Tony. I’m perfectly capable of purchasing them myself.”

Crap, this isn’t going as I’d intended. What woman wouldn’t let a man she’s dating buy something for her? “But I want to,” I say, looking toward the salesman for assistance.

Sensing an imminent sale, he rushes forward to claim both pairs before she can utter another word.

“Tony, no.” She stands, motioning for the man to put the boxes down. I pull out my wallet and he ignores her. “It’s inappropriate. They cost too much.”

“Nonsense. They aren’t too much.” I think back to what I’ve spent on Vegas weekends with past girlfriends. This purchase wouldn’t have even covered the rooms. I stride to the counter while she slips her regular shoes back on.

A tingle buzzes through me as I picture how she can thank me for the shoes…maybe I can convince her to wear a pair today. I smile at the young salesman, no longer angry from his earlier behavior. I should cut the guy a break. She is sexy as hell, and he’s only trying to make a living.

We complete the transaction and he hands me a big shopping bag with both pairs inside. I turn to Heather, a smug look on my face…to see the store lies empty. “Heather?”

I look back at the salesman who shrugs. “Sorry. I didn’t see her leave.”

I rush to the doorway and scan the crowd. She’s well and truly gone.

Fuck. What did I do wrong?

I dig in my pocket for my cell phone, scrolling through my call list until I come to her number from Friday. I try it and wait while it rings and then goes to voicemail.

I text her. Where are you?

I stare at the screen for a minute, hoping she’ll answer. Nope. Nothing.

Did I do something wrong?

Maybe she was flustered and went ahead to the coffee shop? My heart tells me yes while my head hammers no. I hurry the block to the café, hoping she’s sitting at a table waiting for me. The small place is packed with people, no sign of her shiny black curls among them.

I debate taking a cab to her building, but foot the many blocks in silence, checking my cell phone every few minutes. Dammit! What did I do? Buying her expensive shoes isn’t a crime. I’ve never had a woman react like this to a gift before.

I arrive at her building, the warmth of the sun not helping to dispel the chill settling in me over how I’ve royally messed up my afternoon with Heather. The doorman assures me she hasn’t returned yet. I scrawl a hasty note at his podium, asking him to hand it to her with the bag when she returns.

I cross the street and sit on a bench facing the entrance. Good one, idiot. She has no idea what you earn or who you work for. Maybe the implication of an expensive gift threw her for a loop.

That could be it. I rub my jaw, debating on calling her again. My phone rings and I scramble to answer it, hoping it’s her. It’s Marcus. Damn.

I suppress a sigh and answer his call.

“Hey, man. Whatcha doing?”

Stark reality hits me. “Nothing.” Bitterness creeps into my tone. “I’m doing absolutely nothing.”

“I’m heading over to Mikey’s. Want to meet me?”

The sports bar is eight blocks back the way I just came. “Sure. I’ll be there in a bit.”

The long walk to the bar cools me off. I have no idea what the hell happened at the store, but we’ll work it out. Of that I have no doubt. I won’t let her go over some stupid shoe misunderstanding, that’s for sure.

Marcus gives me a nod from across the darkened sports pub. I slide onto the empty stool next to him and signal the bartender.