Sierra caught the silky red number and shook her head. “Hell, no. I want comfy. It’s only Sunfish!”
“You’re such a pain in the ass. Fine. We’ll go big on the bottom and slutty on top. Try this.”
The faded flare jeans gave her plenty of room to move, accentuating the white halter top that tied around her neck and plunged in a deep V. Sierra sighed. “You’re such a bully. Isn’t that too skimpy?”
“No, you have fab breasts and more men need to see them.”
Sierra smothered a laugh and gave up the fight. Inez always won anyway. “Fine.”
“Now the shoes.” The second closet opened and Inez gave a shudder of pleasure. “I swear, every time I look at this, I have an orgasm. You have the best shoes in the world, girl.”
Sierra had to agree.
The walk-in closet had been converted to showcase shoes. From Louboutin to Prada, Gucci to Dior, every style and mood was accounted for and lovingly worn to evoke a feeling. Open shelves and compartments were color coded with a dazzling variety of colors, from sandals and flats, to boots and loafers. Fuck-me, sky-high heels happily sat beside platform pumps and every heel height in between. When Sierra gazed at her closet, her insides stilled, and she was dragged into the moment and that one important choice of the day.
Over the years, Sierra found herself drawn to shoes. Every woman had a thing, whether it was handbags, makeup, or the new hottest trends. For her, a day spent with the right shoes could be the difference between a good and bad day; of success or failure; of happiness or feeling lost.
Her ex-husband mocked and made fun of her obsession. He used to grab the credit card bill and scold her like a toddler when she spent too much on a pair. Afterward, she leaned in hard to a hobby that made her feel powerful and in charge, saving money by expert shopping with re-sale sites, flea markets, and even garage sales. Most women didn’t realize the treasures they had with a pair of designer shoes.
She sold a few pairs at Flirt, cultivated for the impulse beachwear accessory. They never stayed long on the shelves. She had a talent for knowing what women craved in their footwear. Aspen had a bigger size foot and had been horrifically jealous of her when they were younger. Now, she admitted Sierra could have been the next big shoe designer of the century. But she liked wearing them, not creating them. It was a pleasure she now refused to apologize for.
Inez took a few moments in worshipful silence, then plucked a pair of platform white sandals with embroidered daisies on the wide crossover strap. Betsey Johnson knew how to create a whimsical, yet sexy shoe that was legendary. “Good choice?”
Sierra smiled with pleasure. “Perfect. Give me fifteen.”
She was efficient with her make-up, and Inez helped curl her hair so it fell soft and loose around her shoulders. Grabbing a small denim bag from Ed Hardy, and spritzing some Dior perfume, she faced Inez.
“Ready.”
“You look hot, bitch.”
Sierra laughed. “So do you.”
They headed to Sunfish but as they were getting out Inez got a text. “Oops, Brooklyn needs a ride. Grab us a table and I’ll be right back.”
Sierra grinned. “Means she’s drinking tonight.”
“The kids must be on their worst behavior today.”
Inez took off. Sierra spotted Aspen, who’d managed to snag a large table. She squished in and gave her sister a hug. “Long time, no see. Inez is bringing Brooklyn. Where’s Brick?”
“Should be here soon. You look amazing. I cannot wait for you to meet Kane!”
Sierra sighed. “Babe, I don’t want you to get disappointed if we’re not interested in each other, okay? Every woman I know in town is panting after him. I’m not really into competing.”
“He’s not like that.” Her brown eyes held a plea. “I just want you to find a guy who’s worthy. You have so much to give, and I’m afraid you’re beginning to close off and no one will see what I do. That you’re so special, Sierra.”
Her heart softened to mush. “That’s really sweet. But right now, I’m doing okay. Let’s talk about Brick instead and how happy he makes you.”
“Did I hear my name?”
Brick kissed Aspen and slid in next to her. Sierra watched her sister melt and make googly eyes at him. Oh yeah, they both had it bad. She wondered briefly what it would feel like to experience such highs again—that giddy roll of lust and possibility when you looked at a man. The comfort of touch and the safety of snuggling next to someone at night. The beautiful routines she sometimes missed and craved.
Sierra blinked hard, shoving those disturbing thoughts aside.
She meant what she said to Aspen. She was doing okay. She was happy.
It was enough.
