Once Upon Stilettos
Page 108

“That explains a lot,” I said with a nod. In fact, it explained more than he realized. No wonder I’d been so quick to whip out my credit card and buy them. My immunity must have already been fading by then.
“Explains what?” he asked. The question seemed innocent enough, and obvious, if he was trying to get to the root of the situation, but a crease had formed between his eyes. Was he jealous? But no, he’d only been kissing me because he was affected by the shoes. Just my luck—the best kiss I’d ever had in my entire life, and it was meaningless.
“Some stupid stuff that’s been happening to me lately. Like last weekend when we went out, I was a lot more popular than I’ve ever been. I had men buying me drinks and asking me to dance all night.” I gave a bitter laugh. “I should have known it couldn’t possibly have been real.”
That should have been his cue to correct me and tell me I didn’t need magical shoes to be irresistible. I wasn’t fishing for compliments, but I would have welcomed one. He was apparently telling the truth about not being good at talking to people, though, for he didn’t even try to say anything to make me feel better. I could feel my hopes deflating. The kiss hadn’t meant anything to him, then.
“I think I can break this spell, but not tonight. I’m still too drained from the teleportation. In the meantime, I’d better put these in a safe place. I mean, a place where we’ll both be safe. Well, they won’t affect you, but, yeah, a place where we’ll both be safe.” Apparently, he’d fallen out of business mode and was back to his usual bashful self. He stood up, holding the shoes out at arm’s length, like he was afraid they’d bite. “And we need to get you out of those wet clothes.” He turned crimson as he realized what he’d said, then hurried to correct himself. “I mean, you need something warmer and drier to wear. Stay there. I’ll be back.”
As rattled as I was, I couldn’t help but smile as he all but ran from the room. He was so adorable when he was flustered. So adorable, and he didn’t like me as anything more than a friend, after all. I wished he’d never kissed me, for now I knew what I was missing. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the touch of his lips on mine, still taste him. I doubted I’d forget it anytime soon.
I heard footsteps on stairs and soon he returned, holding a bundle of clothing. “These are probably too big for you, but they should work,” he said, handing the clothes to me. “The sweatpants have a drawstring waist, and there’s elastic at the ankles, so they may be baggy, but you won’t trip over the hem. There’s a bathroom under the stairs if you want to change and, um, freshen up. While you do that, I’ll make some cocoa.”
I got up from the sofa and followed him into the hallway, where he pointed out the bathroom before heading to the end of the hall, Loony following faithfully at his heels.
Safely locked inside the small half bathroom, I finally let myself break down and cry. This night had been one disaster after another, from the surprisingly fun date with Rod that had disintegrated into a nightmare to the miraculous kiss with Owen that turned out to have been nothing more than the result of a spell.
When I got myself under control, I washed my face, then got out of my wet clothes and put on the sweat suit he’d brought me. He was right about the pants being baggy, but they didn’t fit much worse than any I might have worn at home, and I only had to push up the sleeves of the sweatshirt a little bit. It was an old, faded blue sweatshirt that said YALE on the front in cracked lettering that looked like it had been washed hundreds of times over the years. He’d also given me a pair of thick socks to warm my feet. I found a ponytail holder in my purse and pulled my hair back, then put on a little lip balm and almost felt human again when I left the bathroom.
The first doorway off the hall led to the living room, where we’d been. The next one opened into a formal dining room that didn’t appear to be used often for its intended purpose, given the piles of books and papers on the dining table. The last door turned out to be the kitchen, where Owen stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot, Loony sitting at his feet and staring up at him in all-out worship. I couldn’t much blame her. He really was remarkable.
It was a typically small New York kitchen, but compared with mine it could have been a catering kitchen designed to feed thousands. He had actual counter space, as well as a nook for a small table for two. “I think I have kitchen envy,” I said.
He turned around from the stove and gave me a shaky smile. “How did the sweats work out for you?” he asked.