The Pretty Lady and the Cowboy (Songs from the Heart) by Dana Lee Read Free Book Online Page A

a lot!” At least I wasn’t hallucinating. “As long as their money is real, they can be whatever they want in whatever world they want,” I said.
    It was nearly 1:00 before there was any sort of break in the crowd. By then, I’d outfitted all sorts of strange creatures with running shoes. One woman who was dressed like a princess in a long, flowing pink dress and a silver tiara, was fascinated by the shoes I was wearing, my Vibrams. Vibram FiveFingers are those foot-shaped shoes with toes—kind of like gloves for the feet—worn by runners who want to get the feeling of running barefoot. After she managed to get each toe into the right place, she hiked up her skirt a bit and handed me her tiara so she could try them out on the treadmill. She was so delighted with the way they felt that she decided to buy them and wear them right away. She paid me in quarters since she had converted all her cash to change so she could play in the video game room at the convention. Ah, well, money is money.
    As she walked out wearing her new shoes, Jess nudged me and whispered, “If the princess had married the frog and had a baby, I’m pretty sure that’s what the offspring would look like.”
    What a morning!
    “I’m going in back for a break,” I finally yelled to Dan. I grabbed a yogurt and a carrot from the refrigerator and headed to my desk. There were no messages on my cell phone, and I took that to be a good sign.
    I flipped open my iPad, glanced at my email (mostly spam), and then typed Levi McCrory’s name into the search bar. His website came up at the top of the list. A couple of swipes of my finger later, I was listening to his song, “A Girl Like You.” I closed my eyes as I imagined that I was someone’s girl. I remembered the feeling of his lips on the back of my hand, but then that image was replaced by the puzzled look he had given me as I grabbed for his shirt in my unsuccessful attempt to stay upright at his reception.
    Dan’s voice over the intercom mercifully kept me from reliving my humiliation for the umpteenth time that morning. “Kitty, what’s the best cross trainer for a tall guy who wants to supplement his running with P90X?”
    I sighed. “I’ll be right there,” I said.
    As I left my desk, I glanced one last time at my iPhone. A text had apparently come in about an hour ago: “OFF TO GYM TO SWEAT OFF LAST NIGHT.”
    I tapped the talk bar of the intercom again. “Just give me one more minute, Dan. Meanwhile, take a look at the Avia’s. They’re great stability shoes.” I could recommend shoe types in my sleep.
    I quickly dialed Ally’s number but all I got was her voicemail: “I’m not here, but you know what to do. Catch you later—bye!”
    After the tone, I said, “It’s me, Ally. Love you. Call me.” I could only hope that she’d call.
    # # # # #
    The day dragged on in an endless stream of recommendations, laces, bare feet, knee braces, arch supports, and countless boxes, boxes, and more boxes of shoes. Even the part of the business I loved most, talking about running with runners of all sorts, got harder as I grew more tired. The science fiction conventioneers in their costumes stopped being diverting. I couldn’t stop worrying about Ally.
    I thought closing time would never come, but finally the last customer had taken her Finish Line recyclable shopping bag and walked out the door with her two different kinds of shoes, one for running days, one for Zumba. Jess let out a “Yahoo!” and did a cheerleading jump in the middle of the floor. Ten minutes to five.
    “Jess, why don’t you take off now. It’s been a long day and you must be fried after last night.” She didn’t hesitate for a second. Dan only worked until three on Saturdays, so Jess and I had covered the last couple of hours by ourselves.
    I was alone.
    And I was so ready to leave. All I wanted was my favorite chair, my Kindle, and a tall glass of something cold,