In Anyone Else's Shoes Read Online Free

and rehash the oh-my-God can you believe it tales, or if she would just avoid her the rest of her life. She had always imagined Alyssa’s private life to be more … untraditional, but she had not realised how untraditional it really was.
    Wanting to shake the images of her close friend being fucked and sucked, and, God knows, probably anything that could be done to a person sexually, she drove purposely, and directly, to her anytime-I-need-to-left-off-steam gym. She blasted the radio along the way, hoping a little music might distract her. She couldn’t shake the fact that Jake was such a douche, and could only speculate about Cal, but in spite of their shortfalls, they were the most gorgeous specimens she had ever seen. Too brawny maybe, and too stupid, or at least graceless, but, that aside, they were surface-of-the-sun hot.
    Grabbing the small, pink duffel that resided in the back seat of her Volvo, Emma headed into Gold’s Gym. She liked the fact that the place never closed, which fit her retail lifestyle perfectly, and she loved that the gym was almost always loaded with young hard-bodies working diligently on their abs and delts, or whatever they called those splendid, muscly body parts of theirs.
    Tonight though, she wasn’t there to furtively ogle the eye candy. She’d had enough of that for one day. She wanted to sweat a little, clear her mind a little, maybe even work on her figure a little.
    Emma was OK with her body, but understood that if she wanted to keep things where they were, it would take a little effort on her part. She loved to work on her legs, and it showed. They were strong – muscles on parade strong. She worried that her thighs were too thick though, so she did lots of leg exercises to make them stronger – which made them thicker. She cursed the physics that allowed this to happen. Other body parts didn’t seem to respond to exercise in the same way; that’s why she barely bothered with chest workouts any more. But she had made peace a long time ago with this – as well as with her lack of model-requisite height.
    She glanced sideways at the row of treadmills – her preferred cardio machine up until that mortifying incident when she reached for a water bottle and her ass landed in Tucson – and headed straight for the stationary bikes. For five miles of leg-searing pretend hills, none of which seemed to have a downslope, Emma brooded over her day, wishing she had passed on her friend’s invitation.
    Owing to an unexpected epiphany somewhere around mile three, she realised it wasn’t a man, or lack of one, responsible for her recent fit of grouchiness. Emma loved her job, but for three years she had been managing the same store and repeating the same retail cycles over and over: stock new Spring shoes, get rid of old Spring shoes, take an inventory; stock new Fall shoes, get rid of old Fall shoes, take an inventory. She was a good manager, but she was deep in a rut and the shovel just kept getting bigger. Maybe it was time for a change; Phoenix was a great market, and Emma had a great résumé.
    With a pink duffel full of sweaty workout gear and a heart full of resolve, Emma left the gym and entered the warm, moonlit night.
    She could tell something wasn’t right when she spotted her car from a distance. The Volvo was listing to one side, the left rear tyre so flat it appeared to have melted to the ground. Emma glared at the mess as if exasperation alone could fill the flaccid puddle of rubber. It didn’t work. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that the day could only last a few more hours.
    ‘I’m not going to talk about it now, Alyssa. Can we do this later?’ Emma crimped the phone between ear and shoulder, her hands busy organising a thick file. ‘Mr Eastman is supposed to be here any minute.’
    ‘Who? Oh, our new Regional Vice President. I forgot he was in town today. You don’t think he’ll visit my store, do you?’
    ‘Of course not, Alyssa. Why would he