These Boots Were Made for Stomping by Julie Kenner Read Free Book Online

your major crush for the last two years because—as we have conclusively
     established on innumerable occasions—you are a twelve-year-old girl at heart. Though why you’d want to date a superhero is
     beyond me.”
    Lydia’s eyebrows went up. “You’re kidding, right?”
    “Oh, sure, strength and prowess is all good and fine. But he’d be running off to fix some other girl’s problems all the time.”
    Lydia forced herself not to smile. “Exactly why my fantasy is for a superhero with a domestic side. Strong and sexy, but nurturing, too. The kind of guy who’d fix me a romantic
     candlelight dinner and not have it catered. Or breakfast in bed other than Frosted Flakes.”
    “That man doesn’t exist,” Amy said with a mischievous grin. “I got the last model.”
    “Congratulations,” Lydia said, lifting her Cosmo in a toast. “Guess you’re buying this round.”
    Amy laughed, but didn’t drop the ball. “Tell me!”
    Lydia sighed, clinging to her forget-about-him plan by her fingernails. “You’re missing the whole point. He was a superhero— and so was I. ”
    Amy, however, seemed less than impressed. “Told ya, didn’t I?”
    “That I was going to be able to kick serious butt if I bought these shoes? And that the shoes would be calling the shots?”
     Lydia asked, kicking her feet up into the air and drawing a few stares from the other bar patrons. “Um, no. I don’t think
     those words actually left your mouth.”
    Amy lifted a shoulder. “Maybe you just weren’t listening.”
    Frustrated, Lydia leaned forward and banged her head on the table three times. When she was near to concussing herself, she
     looked up at her friend’s amused expression. “You know you’re hopeless, right?”
    “I’m deaf to everything you have to say until you tell me about the guy.”
    “And I’m not telling you about the guy,” Lydia said, “until you have appropriately consoled me over the fact that Stout fired
     my sorry butt.”
    “Okay,” Amy said, looking contrite. “The guy will hold. Tell me what happened.”
    “Total unfairness is what happened,” Lydia said. “And nobody— nobody —bothered to consider the fact that maybe I was out there trying to make the world a better place. Honestly, Good Samaritans
     have a hell of a time these days.”
    “The story, Lyd,” Amy said, apparently not caring about the plight of the Samaritans.
    “It all started with the guy,” Lydia began. “Or, actually, it started before the guy. But it really started when I sat on the doughnuts.”
    Amy’s face squished up as she bit back a laugh. To her credit, she managed to keep it at bay. Lydia took that as an invitation
     to continue, and launched herself full-blown into the story of her humiliation, publicly rendered in front of the entire staff.
     Absolutely mortifying at the time. Now, after three Cosmopolitans and with one more on the way—she signaled the waitress to
     make sure—she was beginning to find the hidden humor. It was waaaaaaaay down there, hiding under the lemon twist, swimming
     in a puddle of alcohol-laced cranberry juice, and shouting dire predictions of one whopper of a hangover in the morning.
    Lydia ignored her inner responsibility and continued to sip. She’d met the guy of her dreams, lost the guy of her dreams,
     and gotten fired, all within a two-hour time frame. She deserved a bender.
    “I was already late,” she said, “so I couldn’t stop to get more doughnuts. So not only did I race into the conference room
     a full forty minutes late, but everyone was staring at me because they had assumed I was running late because I was waiting
     for the snacks—like I’d stand in line at a bakery instead of getting to a meeting on time.”
    “So what happened?” Amy pressed, twirling her hand as if that would make the story come faster.
    “I stood there. Except, I didn’t. I wanted to stand there, all cowering-like in the doorway. But my feet had a mind of their own and they