“No problem,” I replied, my eyes (were they ever steely blue?) turning a confident green. How did Kevin get in my car?
“All we have to do . . .” I rummaged frantically, under the dash board, in the back seat, but couldn’t find red shoes.
Then, I saw them – not ruby slippers, but crimson Crocs. On Kevin’s feet! How did that happen? He didn’t seem a Croc kind of guy.
But this had to be done. Would he? Could he click?