by Jill Kemerer
Why was that a good thing? She didn’t want to date him. And he couldn’t really date her. Not as things stood, at least.
He and Gabby were friends, and outside of Stu, she was the only friend he had at the moment. He’d take whatever time she was willing to give.
As he reached his truck, he thought back to last week when yearning for the simple pleasures of a small town had practically knocked him over.
He was getting what he’d wished for. A community. Barbecues with friends. A purpose working on the ranch.
Sure, none of it would last, but he’d enjoy it while he could. Life had given him enough lemons lately. He’d happily drink the lemonade until it ran out.
Chapter Seven
Something wasn’t adding up about Dylan Kingsley. The man pushing the shopping cart next to her was more complicated than she’d originally thought. Or maybe she was the one complicating things.
On the ride here, they’d enjoyed a pleasant conversation. He’d told her about the summer he’d learned how to ride a horse. She’d filled him in on how she and Allison entertained each other as kids by running through sprinklers in the summer and playing house or Barbies. She’d asked him questions, but he’d been tight-lipped and vague about the rest of his childhood. It reminded her of when she’d first met him—and her suspicions had flared all over again. Had she been wrong about him? Was he hiding something from her? Was he really like Carl and she’d been fooling herself?
If he was like Carl, he’d fill up the cart and pretend he’d lost his wallet.
Phoebe was strapped into the cart and happily gripped the bar, watching everyone who walked by. Several people waved to her and mentioned what a cute baby she was. Their kind words warmed Gabby’s heart.
“Where should we head to first?” Dylan asked.
“What do you need?” A blast of air-conditioning, bright fluorescent lights and displays of beach towels and plastic dishes greeted them as they passed the grocery section into a general merchandise area.
He listed the items, and she pointed to the far corner where housewares were located. “This way.”
They found the fans. Gabby began checking the prices of each, and Dylan zoomed to a top-of-the-line model and hauled it into the back of the cart.
“Aren’t you going to look at all of them?” She pointed to a cheap box fan.
“Why?” His thick eyebrows drew together, giving him an adorably confused look.
“To find the best value.”
“This has the features I want.” He dusted off his hands and joined her at the front of the cart.
“How do you know the other ones don’t?”
“Box fans only blow in one direction.” He nodded to the one she’d been looking at.
“It’s inexpensive, though.” Had he even checked the price?
“I’m sure it is, but it doesn’t have what I need.” He pointed to the other fans on the shelves. “Those two are basically the same model, and I’d have to buy an end table for them to sit on. The one I’m buying stands up, oscillates and has a remote control.”
It sounded fancy and pricey. But she reluctantly conceded his argument made sense.
He resumed pushing the cart until they reached the bedding section.
A fluffy comforter in the palest mint green drew her eye. She sighed longingly. She didn’t have the funds to replace her current faded denim coverlet, but if she did, she’d go with the mint-green one. It was light. Feminine.
Dylan, on the other hand, was holding a navy-and-tan bed-in-a-bag set at eye level to read what was in it. She peeked at an identical one sitting on the shelf. The price seemed terribly high. Trying to act nonchalant and staying within reach of Phoebe, she eyeballed the prices of the other comforters and bedspreads. He’d picked the most expensive one. Surely, he’d put it down and find another. But he didn’t. He put it in the cart.
Her initial impressions from last weekend roared back. The expensive truck. The small inheritance he seemed to be blowing through like the wind. The way he spent his money wasn’t any of her business, but what if it became her business? What if he used his relationship with Phoebe to try to borrow money from her?
She almost snorted. The idea was laughable. He didn’t strike her as the type. Really, she had to give him the benefit of the doubt instead of letting her past mistakes color all of her opinions about men.
“You mentioned towels.” She used her most pleasant tone. “Do you want to find them next?”
“Yeah.” The corner of his mouth twisted. “Wait. The bedding set—I’m not sure if it’s the right one.”
“Why not?” Because it’s over a hundred dollars!
“It comes with a bunch of things I don’t think I need.”
“Like what?” She perked up. Was he asking her opinion?
He picked up the bedding set again and read. “Shams and a bed skirt and a valance. I don’t even know what those things are.”
“Shams are the fancy pillowcases you cover a pillow with and set on top of your regular pillows, the bed skirt hides what’s under the bed and a valance is like a minicurtain.”
He grimaced and shoved the bedding set back on the store shelf. “Did you see any other sets without all that stuff? Nothing froufrou. Dark would be best.”
“No pink stripes?” She winked as she pointed to a little girl’s set a few feet away.
“For Phoebe, yeah. For me? No.” His grin sent her heartbeat sprinting. “I’d get it dirty and ruin it.”
Phoebe let out a cry and pounded on the bar, so Gabby unstrapped her and carried her down the aisle to check the other sets. “What about this? It comes with a set of sheets, two pillowcases and a lightweight comforter.”
“Perfect. Dark gray. No polka dots or flowers. I like it.” He stood behind her, looking over her shoulder. His cologne or aftershave reminded her of the mountain air—fresh and clean. If she took the tiniest step back, she’d be touching him.
She stiffened. No need to think about touching him. Instead, she pivoted forward so he could see the package better. “And the price is half the other one.”
“Right.” He read the description on the package. “But do you think it will hold up?”
“I do. More expensive doesn’t always mean better quality.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He placed the bedding in the cart.
Twenty minutes later they’d added towels, cleaning products and a coffeemaker to the pile. She’d questioned his need for the more expensive coffeemaker, but he’d assured her it was necessary for the early-morning work he did. Did a cheap coffeemaker produce an inferior cup of coffee? She didn’t know. She’d only ever had the cheapest model, and her coffee tasted fine.
As she glanced at the cart, she couldn’t shake the worry that he was a spendthrift. What would he do when his money ran out?
Her dad had taken to driving a truck and preying on weak women in different towns. Carl had done the same, minus driving big rigs.
She didn’t know what Dylan would do, and she really didn’t want to find out.
All she knew was a man who wasn’t responsible with his money wasn’t the man for her.
* * *
Dylan couldn’t believe how cheap everything was in this store. It was his first time shopping in a supercenter. His watch alone had cost ten times more than the contents of the entire cart. There was an extra spring in his step as they moseyed toward the baby section.
He wanted to buy some things for Phoebe. Spoil his niece a little bit. He got the impression Gabby wouldn’t like it, though.
It was strange to have someone judging him for thinking he was spending too much on items he considered practically free. It reinforced his previous misgiving that Gabby had to worry about money in a way he never did. Shouldn’t he be fast-tracking the trust fund and child support? For her sake?
&
nbsp; She stopped and began browsing through a rack of baby clothes. Bright-eyed and quiet, Phoebe sat on her hip. One by one, Gabby selected sleeveless dress sets with tiny matching shorts ruffled at the legs. And one by one, she set them back after checking the price.
“What about this one?” He held up a baby blue dress with bows on the back and a matching headband. It was cute. Phoebe would look adorable in it.
“I’m not sure.” Gabby flushed, shaking her head. “I want to see what else they have before I make a decision.”
He checked the tag. Under twenty bucks. Size 12 months. He furrowed his eyebrows together. Phoebe was nine months old. Would it be too big? “What size is she?”
“She’s growing out of her 6-9 months clothes. That’s the next size up.” She shifted to the next circular rack and browsed through little T-shirts that snapped at the bottom.
“What all does she need?” He tossed the baby blue dress in the cart and reached for one with watermelon slices printed all over it.
“Onesies. A few dresses. Short outfits. Oh, and a hat. I’ve got to protect her head from the sun.”
“I’m on it.” He puffed out his chest and searched the area for shorts.
“Um, I’ve got this.” Her eyes flashed with worry.
“I’m getting her some clothes.” He wasn’t budging. “She’s my niece, too.”
“Well...” She dragged the word out. “Don’t buy much. You already have a lot to pay for.” She nodded toward the cart.
He almost laughed. She was worried about him paying for all this stuff? It was a drop in the bucket. Nothing. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it.”
“I know it’s none of my business but your inheritance... It won’t last forever.” Her eyes grew wide as if she couldn’t believe she’d just said that. “I mean, it’s always smart to save for a rainy day. Then if you get the itch to move around again, you won’t have to worry about your money running out.”
He averted his eyes, overcome with sudden emotion and insight. She wasn’t judging him. She was worried. Worried he wouldn’t be able to pay for everything, that he’d run out of money if he wasn’t careful.
Shame rushed from his head to his toes in a big whoosh. He should tell her he was rich. It was wrong to mislead her and allow her to keep thinking whatever it was she thought.
What did she think?
“Why do you think my money will run out?” He crossed over to where she suddenly grew very interested in those baby T-shirt things.
Her neck grew pink and she didn’t meet his eyes. “You’ve been doing... I don’t know...this and that for the past year, and you mentioned a small inheritance. If you didn’t have a job, you had to be spending it. And it costs a lot to live. The nest egg won’t last forever.”
“I was traveling. I went overseas.” He couldn’t bring himself to admit he’d been hopping from country to country, living in luxury, fine dining every night, watching the sun, moon and stars from expensive balconies and contemplating the meaning of life.
He hadn’t figured out the meaning. And those twelve months seemed shamefully indulgent now that he’d met Gabby.
She raised her eyebrows. “Overseas. Traveling. Not cheap.”
The truth climbed up his throat, ready to be spoken.
But he already knew how she’d react. And it wouldn’t be to fawn over him and try to get money for herself.
She’d be disappointed in him.
Just like his father had always been.
“I never buy anything I can’t afford.” He tightened his jaw. It was true. And he was buying Phoebe some clothes. He didn’t care if Gabby approved or not. She had no right to look down on him for his financial situation—whether she thought he was rich or poor. It was his business. Not hers.
He went back to the display table with itty-bitty shorts and selected half a dozen in various colors. Then he picked out T-shirts to match, threw four more dress sets in for good measure and selected a turquoise one-piece swimsuit with pink flamingos and ruffles.
A touch on his arm made him flinch and turn.
“Hey, I’m sorry.” Gabby’s pretty gray eyes swam with regret. “You’re right. It’s none of my business how you spend your money. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He blinked twice as his heart swelled. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I had a few complicated relationships. My father, in particular, did things that made me not trust him, and my ex-boyfriend piled onto my trust issues. It was wrong of me to project their mistakes onto you.”
He tilted his head, viewing her through new eyes. What had her father done to abuse her trust? And what about the ex? Had he broken her heart?
“I have trust issues, too, Gabby,” he said quietly. “Why don’t we finish up here and call it even?”
“Sounds good.” Her genuine smile could have knocked him over with a feather.
As she walked back to the baby racks, an uncomfortable feeling spread throughout his body.
He cared about her opinion.
He cared about her.
He hadn’t cared about anyone since Sam and Dad died. He preferred it that way. Life was safer without responsibilities, but was it better? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
* * *
Gabby couldn’t stop peeking at Dylan all the way home. They’d finished their shopping—she’d done a double take at his enormous bill but kept her mouth shut—and stopped at a nearby coffee shop for a snack and to give Phoebe her bottle before heading back. At the coffee shop, he’d told her about some of the places he’d visited last year. She hadn’t realized he was so adventurous. He made it sound easy, riding a train from Paris to the Alps.
She’d been out of the state only a handful of times. She couldn’t imagine traveling around the world, especially by herself the way Dylan had. Hadn’t he been scared? Worried about not speaking the language? Lonely? Homesick?
He must have had a larger inheritance than she’d originally assumed. She wanted to tell him to hang on to his money. Invest it. It was nice of him to buy Phoebe some clothes, but she’d rather see him save for his future.
There she went again, assuming she knew everything about him. Who was she to conclude he didn’t save? He could have a 401(k) tucked away and everything.
Casting a glance at his tanned arms lightly gripping the wheel, then up to his handsome profile and the T-shirt hugging his biceps, she mentally rolled her eyes at herself. Sure, he’s got a 401(k), a financial advisor and an accountant to boot. Didn’t all cowboys? She smiled at her own joke.
“What’s the story on your dad?” He peered at her, keeping one eye on the road. The blue sky and green hills were empty and peaceful. “Or do you not want to talk about it?”
“I don’t mind. My heart isn’t so sore about it now.” She thought back to the last time she’d seen him. Mom had kicked him out, and he’d been hauling his belongings out in trash bags. He’d come inside and reached for the framed family photo of the four of them, and Mom had swiped it out of his hand. You ruined this family! You can’t have the picture. It’s mine! And Gabby had glared at him, hating him for cheating on Mom. After her mother stormed out of the room, Allison had tiptoed to him and handed him the photo. He’d hugged her tightly while Gabby watched, her eyes burning with so much anger.
The anger had faded to a general wariness with time, but there was still a part of her that blamed him for destroying their family. He hadn’t only cheated on Mom. He’d cheated on her and Allison, too.
“Dad was, for lack of a better word, charming,” she said. “I thought the sun rose and set around him when I was a girl. He was gone a lot—working on local ranches or driving trucks—but whenever he was around, he made us feel special. Bought us toys, took us out for ice cream, that sort of thing.”
“But?” He glanced her way,
and she was relieved to see compassion in those brown eyes.
“But when he wasn’t around, it was if we didn’t exist. Mom did her best, but we were poor. It didn’t bother me until I turned eleven. That’s when I found out about the other women.”
“He was cheating on your mom?” He frowned.
“Yes, with more than one lady. And the worst part was he was spending time with their children—more than he spent with us. All his charm and random gifts felt cheap and dirty after I found out.”
Her throat felt raw. She’d thought she was over it, but talking about it brought a fresh wave of pain. She took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. “Mom threw him out. I was angry at him. He came back a few times to visit, and Allison always wanted to see him, but I didn’t. I couldn’t forgive him for not only neglecting us, but for robbing us of our time with him so he could be with someone else’s kids. It hurt.”
“I can imagine,” he said softly. “Do you ever talk to him?”
“No. And I don’t talk much with my mom, either. After the divorce, she flitted from boyfriend to boyfriend like a lovesick teenager. It was as if when Dad left, she decided she no longer had responsibilities. Allison and I were basically raising ourselves.”
“Now I know why you’re so nurturing and responsible.” The cleft in his chin drew her attention. He thought she was nurturing? Responsible? She tried not to let it go to her head.
She stared out the window. “What was your dad like? You must miss him.”
“Sometimes I do.” His knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. “And sometimes I think I’m looking for closure.”
“Why? Weren’t you close?”
“I wouldn’t say close. I mean, we worked together, but he had high standards. It was difficult to live up to them.”
“You worked together?” Finally she was learning something concrete about his life before his brother and dad died.
His face flushed, and he waved like it didn’t matter. “He owned a business. I worked for him. Then he sold it.”
