If the Shoe Fits (Meant To Be #1) by Julie Murphy

“You okay?”

He nods. “Maybe less talking while I’m walking with my eyes shut.”

“Okay, one step forward, and then one step down,” I tell him.

He follows my instructions cautiously.

“And then two steps forward. Follow my voice.”

“Gladly,” he says, and suddenly he’s looming over me, eyes still shut, with a fluffy towel spread out for me.

“I don’t want to get you wet,” I say.

His voice is gravelly. “I won’t melt.”

I hoist myself out of the tub carefully, feeling deeply vulnerable as I stand completely naked before him.

“I’m not looking,” he reminds me as though he can read my thoughts.

I wrap the towel around me, and of course, it barely covers anything, and suddenly I’m wishing for the very large, very luxurious towels at our New York hotel.

But my thudding heart begins to slow, and the queasiness in my stomach isn’t a result of being so nearly naked with him only inches away, but instead at the thought of him leaving.

“You can open your eyes,” I whisper.

He does so, and there’s something immediately heavy about his deep brown eyes as they linger on my wet, bare shoulder and then down the length of my body. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Would it be completely crude of me to say that I love your outfit?” he asks.

I lick my lower lip before biting down on it as heat spreads down my chest and into my abdomen.

He holds a hand out for me as I step out of the tub, but the drop down is higher than I expect and I stumble forward.

In a second decision, I decide to hold my towel rather than break my fall.

“Whoa, there,” Henry says as he catches me by the elbow. “We can’t have two clumsy people in one relationship.”

I let out a breathless laugh. “With a shoe collection like mine, I can’t afford to be clumsy, so I’ll leave that title to you.”

“I’d walk into a brick wall for you,” he tells me. “Fall into a manhole. My accidental tendencies are at your service.”

I look up to him, his broad hands still bracing my forearms. “Was that a pledge of allegiance?” I ask.

He tilts his head farther down as his arms snake around my waist.

I stand on my toes, my towel thankfully staying in place as I wrap my arms around his neck and playfully nip at his lip.

He groans into my mouth, and my entire body melts into his.

“Stay,” I plead.

He devours me with a kiss as he slides one hand down the length of my hip and pulls my thigh up, hooking it around his.

An urgency I have no intention of saying no to consumes me, as I pull Henry back inside my villa, the door shutting softly behind us, sealing us in our own private bubble. Neither of us is in the position to promise each other much of anything, but we have tonight.





The next morning, I wake up in a half-made bed with a pink hibiscus on the pillow next to me and a note written on a scrap of paper in scraggly handwriting that definitely does not match all the various notes we received from Henry at the château.

Couldn’t bear to wake you. See you soon. xH.

Last night, I fell asleep to the sight of his chest rising and falling as he slept soundly beside me with his arm pulling me to his side. I was scared to fall asleep, because I knew in the morning, he would be gone. Unless we wanted our secret hookup on national television.

Today is my villa date. One last chance for Henry and me to have “alone” time before I leave for home the moment our date is through. I’ll be sent back to LA to wait and find out if I’m in the final three. If so, I’ll be invited back to the château for the season finale.

I’m thankful to be going on the second date night, because even though this place is a slice of heaven, I don’t think I’d survive watching Henry go out with a new girl every night. I walk outside to find the cleaning crew descending on Sara Claire’s room, and my chest twinges with regret as I realize she’s gone and I didn’t even get to say bye.



After a late lunch, Ash, Irina, and Gretchen get to work, and for the first time I don’t micromanage Irina to death as she attempts to dress me. I let them primp and buff and moisturize me until my hair is tossed into loose beach waves and Irina is buckling the strap of my wedge, an espadrille with baby-blue bows over the toe. The dress she’s picked out is a sleeveless swiss-dot white sundress. It’s the exact thing you’d wear after lounging on the beach all day.

The only thing I semifought them on was the spray tan, but Ash insisted. “You haven’t been here long enough to get a glowy tan, and the sun will kill you anyway.”

So by the time Mallory arrives at my door in a little golf cart, I look like I’m in full-on vacation mode even if I don’t entirely feel it.

As Zeke drives, Mallory sits on the backward-facing second row and looks over her clipboard. “We’re looking for lots of moony shots tonight. Lots of staring into each other’s eyes and maybe some kisses.”

“Wow,” I deadpan. “That sounds so romantic.”

She waves me off just as we hit a massive bump, the three of us popping up into the air.

“Sorry!” Zeke says, even though he doesn’t sound like it and I’m pretty sure he’s having a little too much fun manning the golf cart.