“I don’t intend to present a more comfortable version of myself for anyone. Even me.” Yes, sometimes her feet ached, and she longed to relax into flip-flops or Crocs or Uggs or whatever comfortable, hideous shoes were currently popular. But discomfort was a small price to pay for the safety of an inviolate, immaculate shell. He spoke slowly. “Yet here you are. In sweats.” For him. Her breath hitched, and her hand jerked in the direction of her purse. Shit. Shit, this was a mistake.
