Free These Boots Were Made for Stomping by Julie Kenner Page B

happiness.
    “Dammit, Roy,” a woman said, her voice harsh and a little scared. “We’re broken up! What are you doing following me?” As Lydia
     turned, she saw the woman, a brunette with a pale, drawn face, push back from the table. “I’m going home.”
    “No, you’re not. We gotta talk,” Roy said, reaching across the table and grabbing her arm so hard the woman winced. “Now sit
     down,” he said, jerking her roughly back into her chair.
    That did it. Lydia leapt up out of her chair and stormed across the restaurant, then pulled the guy up by the back of his
     collar. “I think you must have misunderstood the lady. She said she wanted to go home.”
    “Who the hell are you?”
    Lydia smiled, feeling powerful and more than a little righteous. “Your worst nightmare if you don’t leave the girl alone.”
    For a moment, she thought the guy would call her on it. And, yes, she actually imagined how it would feel to smack him hard
     in the nose.
    But he backed off, his hands lifting in a whatever kind of gesture. “She ain’t even worth it,” he said. “I got a new girl now, anyway. New job. New place. Don’t need her at all.” He glared at the girl as she shoved her chair back, lips pressed tight together and her eyes damp.
    She mouthed a silent thank-you to Lydia, then grabbed her purse and ran from the restaurant.
    Lydia watched her go, then turned back to Roy. “Stay away from her,” she said. “Okay?”
    The guy’s lip lifted. “You wanna get out of my face now?”
    Her fingers curved into a fist, and she was just about to thrust forward and catch him in his sanctimonious nose when she
     felt a hand close over hers. She turned and looked back to find Nikko holding her.
    “You did a good thing, Lydia,” he said. “And this one’s not worth making any more effort.”
    Roy glared at Nikko, but sank lower in his seat, looking worn-out and pitiful.
    “No,” Lydia said. “He’s not.”
    “Come on,” Nikko said, paying and taking her out of the restaurant, then indulging her as she paced up and down the sidewalk
     in front of the park, muttering to herself.
    “The nerve of some people. It’s absurd. No, it’s obscene! That poor girl. Oh, God,” she said, looking at him. “You don’t think
     he’s going to take it out on her, do you? The fact that I embarrassed him in public?”
    “It’s the risk we take, doing what we do,” he said, and she bit her lower lip, suddenly thinking that maybe rampant ballsiness
     wasn’t such a great thing after all. “But, no. I think they’re truly over now. More than that, I think you set a great example
     for her.”
    “Really?” she asked, starting to feel a bit hopeful. “You honestly think so?”
    “Absolutely. Someone stood up for her. Valued her. I think now she’ll value herself more.” He met Lydia’s eyes. “Don’t you?”
    She considered the question, thinking about her B.S. life (before shoes, that is), and tried to imagine being in that woman’s
     place, with Roy across the table.
    “Yeah,” she finally said. “I think you’re right. Even if she doesn’t have the nerve to confront him herself, she might at
     least now have the nerve to say no to going out with him anymore.”
    “So what now?” he asked, coming closer and hooking his arms around her waist. “Your place?”
    “Is yours even an option?” she asked.
    He shook his head. “I’ve been staying at the Council’s New York field office. Seemed easier than getting a hotel.”
    “Oh. So where’s your home?”
    “Colorado,” he said, and she felt her heart sink a little. Colorado was far from New York. Which meant that once his mission
     was over, Nikko would be a long way from her.
    “Oh.” She licked her lips. Part of her did want to go back to the apartment, back to the bedroom and the warmth of Nikko curled
     up next to her, his body hard and lean and pressed close. She closed her eyes and sighed, imagining a lazy morning turning
     into a lazy