Charming for Mother's Day (A Calendar Girls Novella)
Page 13
“Well, well,” I said with forced exuberance. “If it isn’t Marshall Dillon.”
True to form, he glowered at me. Sam always glowered at me, whether or not I used the goofy nickname I’d given him the day I learned he’d become chief of Snug Harbor’s village police force. Small recompense for all the harassment he’d dished out at me when he was the varsity quarterback and I was the nerdy math major. I could only be happier if this former high school heartthrob had become paunchy and bald while I’d blossomed into a swan. Fate, however, has a quirky sense of humor. I blossomed into a nerdy accountant with few swan qualities except for my long neck and my habit of looking calm while paddling manically below the surface.
The adult Sam Dillon had kept his thick dark hair that begged to be tousled, broad shoulders that tapered to six-pack abs, and the sexy swagger of a man sure that he could have any woman in town. Except me.
His ursine gaze raked over my pink sundress, then down to my cotton ankle socks and beat-up sneakers. “Interesting workout attire.”
I quirked my lips. “For your information, I’m on my way to work.”
“In that outfit?”
“Makes for a quick getaway after I swipe a candy bar from here.” The retort zinged out before I could stop it.
Sam snorted and slowly shook his head. “That smart mouth of yours is going to get you into big trouble one day, Paige.”
Yes, Daddy. I managed to clamp my lips around that riposte so it stayed inside my smart mouth.
Jerking his fingers at me, pistol-like, he asked, “Seriously. What’s with the dress and sneakers getup? Is there a marathon for urban professionals I don’t know about?”
I patted the computer case slung over my shoulder. “I decided to walk to the office and didn’t want to ruin my work shoes.” No way I intended to tell him about the Thirty Days to a New You plan from Dara’s show. Sam already suspected I was an idiot. Too much conversation on my part would only confirm I was an idiot.
“Walking, huh? What happened? Your car break down?”
“No, it’s such a nice day, I just…felt like walking.”
He cocked a dark, feathery eyebrow. “In this weather? You know there’s a storm blowing in, don’t you?”
Ha! He thought he’d clinched my idiot title. Not quite, pal. I gestured to my umbrella. “Hell-o? Why do you think I stopped here?”
“Uh-huh.” His gaze scanned the shelf of pain relievers and cold remedies in the opposite aisle. “You need a ride?”
“With you?”
His glower snapped back to me, darker now, and his honey brown eyes turned hard as topaz. “That’s right, I forgot. The perfect Princess Paige can’t be seen fraternizing with the local yokels. Someone might start to think you were one of us.”
I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe beneath the man’s outrage. I’d been joking. But Sam obviously didn’t see the humor. Questions whipped through my brain with the force of a tornado. Was that really what he thought about me? That I considered myself better than the people I’d grown up with? Better than my own sister?
The sudden static squall of his radio cut the tension with the subtlety of a chainsaw at a funeral.
“Sam,” the dispatcher squawked. “Check in, please?”
Turning away from me, he unclipped the mike from his hip. “Yeah, Em. What’s up?” He never looked back, just strode away, leaving me to ponder his accusations.
Long after he’d left the store, I stood at the end of the aisle, the dopey umbrella dangling from my hand.
About the Author: Gina Ardito is multi-published in contemporary and paranormal romance and has published several historical romances under the pen name, Katherine Brandon. A native of Long Island, she has become a popular workshop hostess for writers around the country. In honor of her dedication to career, community, and family, she was named a Woman of Outstanding Leadership in the field of Publishing by the International Women’s Leadership Association (IWLA) in 2012. That same year, she launched her freelance editing business, Excellence in Editing. In 2013, the IWLA honored her as one of the organization’s delegates.
Gina lives with her husband of more than a quarter century, their two children, and the characters who are still waiting for their stories to be told. For additional information, be sure to visit her website: www.ginaardito.com