Write a scene in which a pair of shoes figures prominently.

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Bethany prowled through her closet hunting for her prey. She spied it in the back — the perfect little black dress that she’d found on sale at Saks last year — and made a mad grab at the hanger. Quarry captured, she toted it back to the bed where she smoothed it out on the coverlet. She couldn’t believe she was this nervous about a stupid dinner. Dinner … date. There, she’d admitted it. She was going on a date.

Oh, God.

She chewed on her lower lip as she surveyed the dress and mentally went through her small collection of jewelry. At least, she was pretty sure it was a date. Not that Dane had actually said it was a date. Of course, Dane McReynolds never really said that much of anything, unless he was hauling you in to question you, which she’d found out firsthand. She always thought the John Wayne thing was an unrealistic stereotype, but apparently not.

Going with the classic gold hoops, Bethany thought to herself. Chandelier anything would be too much too soon for a not-exactly-sure kind of date.

Shoes! Bethany dove back in to the closet, getting down on her knees to rummage in the mismatched collection of pumps, sandals, and sweet little flats that all schooled like brightly-colored tropical fish on the hardwood floor. She yanked out a pair of leopard-print peep-toes, and a pair of svelte black heels and placed them side by side at the foot of the brass bed. She curled her legs under her and contemplated them.

Truth be told, she was feeling a little bit like those leopard print shoes. Strangely out of place, a touch too outrageous, not quite fitting in with her surroundings. They looked completely alien next to the bed’s cabbage rose dust ruffle. Here she was in tiny Beverly, Texas trying to run a funky boutique and living in an accidentally-inherited house full of country antiques, chintz, and china plates covered with cats. The big city girl out to dinner with the town sheriff, for Pete’s sake.

But deep down, Bethany felt the driving need to make this work. She loved this place. There was something comforting about it. And she felt that she could, in fact, be a part of life here.

Bethany shook her head and mentally got a hold on herself. If she could make this work, then by God, so could her favorite shoes. She uncoiled herself, grabbed the spotted shoes by their impressively high heels, and padded back to the bedside to get ready.