These Boots Were Made for Stomping by Julie Kenner Page A

griped. “I got fired this afternoon. And thank you so much for making my eve ning that much more special.”
    “Fired,” he repeated, the tone of his voice making her feel even more like a loser. “You want to tell me why?”
    She hung her head, her eyes going to her shoes, and that maneuver inexplicably gave her a boost of confidence. “A ridiculous
     misunderstanding,” she said, looking up to face him. “But it all went back to this morning. I ended up being late, and then
     everything just spiraled downward from there.”
    “Dammit to Hades,” he said. “Did I do that?”
    “Huh?” She stared at him, baffled.
    “Did I accidentally interfere with a mission? This morning, when I thought you were in trouble?”
    “Oh, yeah,” she said. “I—”
    “Sorry,” he said, taking a step back and holding up his hands, looking so contrite that she decided maybe it was best not
     to correct his mistaken impression. After all, he’d started out supremely pissed, and now he seemed to be warming up to her.
    “Trust me,” he continued, “I know what it’s like to come under the Council gun for something that isn’t entirely your fault.”
    “You do?” she asked, wondering what the heck the Council was.
    He nodded but didn’t elaborate. “Okay, back to square one. You got fired today?”
    “Pretty much,” she said.
    “And how long have you been a Protector?”
    She shook her head slightly, trying to keep up. The man certainly did change topics quickly. Or maybe her fuzzy brain simply
     wasn’t processing fast enough. “Um.”
    “Were you on a mission this morning, or weren’t you? Surely that wasn’t your first.”
    “Oh!” she said, finally getting it. He thought she was a superhero, too. That must be what Protector meant. And the only reason
     he’d think that was because she’d been kicking butt. And the only reason she’d done that was because of the shoes.
    Did he know something she didn’t? Like, maybe the shoes came with instructions and an assignment? If so, she’d clearly missed
     it.
    Her head pounded, the alcohol pulling out the big guns now and blasting away inside of her skull, reminding her loudly and
     painfully of why she rarely drank.
    “Right,” she finally said. “Yes. My first.”
    “A Halfling, then. Just passed your tests?”
    “I—” She couldn’t think with the hammering in her head.
    “And then you went out drinking, got your powers all mucked up, got cocky, and stepped in and tossed a giant monkey wrench
     into my operation. Honestly, what is the Council teaching you newbies?”
    “ Nothing, ” Lydia wailed, all the stress of the day falling right on her shoulders. Because she’d wanted so desperately to help. She’d
     thought she was helping. And now this gorgeous stranger—whom she’d at first thought maybe she had a teeny-tiny hint of a spark
     with ( that was obviously only happening in Lydia Delusion-Land!)—was standing here berating her. “Nobody taught me anything. I got the
     shoes, I got the power, and everything just went wonky!”
    “So, you’re a brand-new Protector and you got fired today?”
    “Pretty much,” she said, though she didn’t see what one had to do with the other, unless it was the fact that she’d been a
     total loser-girl with Mr. Stout. She really should have had the gumption to tell him off. But even with the shoes on, she’d kept stupidly silent.
    She opened her mouth to tell Nikko all that, but then shut it again the moment she got a glimpse of his face. Sympathy. And something even softer. Something that made her insides melt and made her crave his touch. This was the man she’d fantasized about, and when he reached for her in a sympathetic hug, she moved into his arms without thinking.
    This was the man she’d spent long nights fantasizing about, and she wasn’t sure if it was the cocktails, the guy, or a pending
     electrical storm, but the air around her seemed to shimmer, looking exactly like it had when Red