Page 65 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

When had I stopped being that person? When had I started hiding behind careful neutrals and safe choices?

“You’re getting the black ones?” I asked, nodding toward her selection.

“They’re practical. They’ll go with everything.”

“Simone, when is the last time you bought something just because it made you happy? Not because it was practical or professional, but because it brought you joy?”

She looked down at the black boots, then over at a pair of burgundy ones with beautiful, tooled leather designs. “Those are gorgeous, but they’re not really me.”

“How do you know if you’ve never tried?”

She sighed and picked up the burgundy ones. She tried them on and grimaced. “I really just don’t think these are me.”

“Do you wear black because Rhett tells you to or because you like it?”

She thought about it. “I like it. I like the mystery.”

That was good enough for me. “Alright, then I guess it’s the black pair.”

“You think I’m boring.”

“Not at all,” I said with a laugh. “If the dark and mysterious thing is your jam, do it. Don’t let me influence you.”

Twenty minutes later, we walked out of the store with our purchases—my ridiculous blue boots and Simone’s burgundy ones, along with a promise to each other that we would wear them to dinner.

We decided to do a little more window shopping. The pedicure had relaxed my body, the shopping was pure fun, and the conversation with Simone had given me a new perspective on both Rhett and myself.

Maybe we were more alike than I wanted to admit. Maybe the intensity I found so frustrating was born from the same passion that drove me. We were like fire and gasoline. I was the gasoline to his fire. Or vice versa. He infuriated me and I seemed to know exactly what to say and do to fire him up.