Thunder - Willow Summers Page 0,15
alcohol. He didn’t know the particulars, nor did he care, but she was one of three VPs. Judging by a salary calculator, she was bringing in six figures a year, even assuming a lower rate of pay for her gender. Social media pegged her as a ball buster, though, so she’d probably fought for her fair share and crushed the salary gap, just as she had clearly broken through the glass ceiling. All of that had given him an idea of what to expect.
He’d completely had the wrong idea.
“Ow.” Madison jerked, and she reached out to steady herself on his arm.
On autopilot, having seen this move countless times and experienced the grabby hands that usually followed it, he slowed his pace but kept facing straight ahead. She could use him as a wall to balance against, but that was it. The no-touching rule was a good one.
“I have no idea why woman feel the need to make their lives harder by walking on stilts,” she muttered, swishing the bottom of her dress to the side so she could adjust a strap on her shoe.
“Are you not used to wearing heels?” he asked. She hadn’t been wearing them in the apartment—in fact, she’d waited until the very last second to put them on, but many women did that. He hadn’t thought anything of it.
“No way! How would I outrun my peers if a zombie epidemic rolled through?”
He laughed, slipping his hands into his pockets when she let go of his arm, another reflexive trait. “Four-inch stiletto Jimmy Choo strappy sandals would definitely be the wrong choice for a zombie apocalypse.”
When she straightened up, there was a troubled look on her face.
“What?” he asked.
“You know an awful lot about women’s shoes.” Her inquiring gaze turned suspicious.
He didn’t know why. What did she think, he would steal hers?
For some reason, a wave of defensiveness washed over him. “Women are proud of their shoes,” he said. “I hear about them a lot.”
“Women hire you, and then spend their time talking about shoes?”
He laughed at the absurdity of it. “Small talk. It’s one of the many options after talking about the weather.”
“I hate small talk, for just that reason. There is so much pressure to come up with something to say, then you have to pretend interest in the other person’s reply. Forget about remembering any of it. In which case, what’s the point? Silence is a much better option, if you ask me.” She straightened up and sighed. “Do those women tell you how much the shoes hurt their feet?”
“It comes up, yes.”
“It’s like they’re chewing on my toes.”
Colton laughed. “Maybe the zombie apocalypse has come after all, just in another form.”
She waggled her finger at him. “You’re onto something there. Isn’t it ridiculous to spend an arm and a leg on a pair of shoes that hurt to walk in? What sort of tomfoolery are they trying to sell? I’m not buying it.” She started forward again, slower this time.
“You did buy it.”
A smile followed a wince as she stopped and shook out her other foot. She was like a cat with tape on its feet. He couldn’t stop chuckling.
“I did buy it, you’re right,” she said. “Four inches of it, when I’m used to walking in flats. Joke is on me, clearly.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to mock your pain.”
“Life is pain, highness,” she said with too much emphasis.
“What’s that?”
“The Princess Bride.” She held out her hands like that should’ve been obvious.
“Ah. Never saw it.”
Her head whipped around. “Are you kidding me?” She speed-wobbled. Her shoe scuffed the pavement and she tripped.
He ripped his hands out of his pockets. Fabric tore, but he didn’t stop to analyze the problem. He grabbed her upper body, skimming a breast and not apologizing, as he took her falling weight and hoisted it into the air. She clutched his arms like a rock climber and yanked her knees to her chest, curling into a ball in midair.
“What are you doing?” he asked, holding her, dead weight, with nearly straight arms. He already felt the strain. She wouldn’t be in the air for much longer.
“Trusting you to save my dress.” She uncurled, daintily placing her feet onto the ground. Breathing hard, hands still on his arms, which were bolstering her sides, she looked up at him with wide eyes. “I am so glad I got you instead of Sam. Sam would’ve dropped me immediately, and that would’ve ended in skid marks and a giant hole. The dress would