Page 43 of New Girl in Town
Chapter Eight
“What are you wearing?”
I looked up from shutting my mailbox to see Grant leaning against his door and giving me a serious case of side eye.
“What are you going on about now?” I asked, fighting the blush that threatened to appear at the very sight of him. The things that man had done to me until the early hours of the morning were more than enough to have me stammering like a schoolgirl, so I considered my moderate blush and the waver in my voice a victory.
His eyes dropped to my feet. “You have flip flops on.”
I tipped my chin up in defiance. “So?”
“There’s snow on the ground, and we have another spring storm forecasted for tonight.”
“It’s spring, okay? I’m not the one disobeying the seasons. Mother Nature is. Why don’t you harass her and not me?”
“You need new shoes, Aurora.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.” He stepped in front of me, and when I went to dart around him he moved that way, blocking me. “You’re going to end up slipping or getting sick wearing pool shoes.”
“I’m inside.”
“I saw you outside with these same shoes on yesterday morning.”
I pursed my lips. Yes, I had gone out in them and enjoyed a nice brunch with Melinda. I didn’t own anything equipped for the snow, but that didn’t mean I felt like letting Grant know that. Not with the high-handed manner he used to regard my chosen footwear.
“I happen to like these shoes.”
“Those aren’t shoes. Those are shower shoes.”
“I thought you just said pool. How did they get downgraded to inside wear?” I crossed my arms while Grant sighed at me.
“You need new shoes,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument.
I took the bait.
“My shoes are fine,” I informed him with a toss of my head.
“No, they aren’t.” He nodded over his shoulder, moving back into his apartment. “Get your coat. We’re going shopping.”
That made me freeze mid-step up the stairs, so much so that my flip flop caught on the edge of the step I was climbing and I stumbled forward, only just managing to catch myself on the banister before I face-planted. I jerked upright, hands tight on the banister as my mail fell to the ground. “Excuse me? What?”
“Shopping,” he said, pausing in his doorway. “We are going shopping.”
I scrambled to pick up my fallen mail, which wasn’t a sexy look but neither was falling down the stairs because of shock and flip flops. “But why?”
“Shoes. You need new shoes and,” he said, throwing up his hands, “a coat—a real coat—and gloves...”
“It’s spring, Grant.”
“—scarves—and do you even know what beanies are?”
“The forecast is nothing but sunshine this week!”
“Actual honest to god thick socks...”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. We are—”
