He found himself staring, feeling spellbound, his food forgotten.
“Speaking of a business opportunity, they suggested I meet with a Joanie Monroe who manages and is the buyer for the local western wear store.She might want to order some of my vests for her store, as she welcomes local craftspeople.”Her voice went wistful.“I’ve never been a local.”
“I…” He’d lived in Denver for years.
He knew the city.The mountains for recreation.But he’d left the city behind without a qualm.He wasn’t sure he knew how to be a local anywhere.
“You mentioned that you wanted enough money to buy a house.”He pushed aside the uncomfortable feelings her words had created.“If you buy a house somewhere, start a business, you could be a local.”
She watched him over her latte mug, expression thoughtful.
“There’s more to the interaction,” she said.“The blonde cutie is Riley Jameson, Riley Telford until early last month after the rodeo.As a teen she won a singing competition, but now she mostly breeds and trains horses with her mom at the Telford family ranch.”
“Hmmmmm.”He sipped his coffee, intrigued and relieved.“Well, at least there’s one Telford man who stuck around and didn’t treat his biological offspring like an indiscretion.”
“Do you think of it like that—that you’re an indiscretion?”
“I am.”
“You don’t have to frame it that way.”
Not sure how he was supposed to frame it, which made him edgy.And like he wanted to leave.The sympathy in her eyes made him feel exposed.Silence breathed between them, and he wondered if he should speak and about what?
“I’m wondering if after lunch, before we hit the road for some reconnaissance, I could swing by Marietta Western Wear.”
“Of course.”Even he heard the relief in his voice.He was so bad at this, but he had to try.“I brought six suits to Montana.I doubt I’ll need any.”
“Maybe if we wedding crash.”Her lips tilted up and her eyes creased.
“There is that.”And that easily she pulled him out of his introspective and self-conscious funk.“I was thinking I should buy a few more casual things.Shop local.”
She held out her mug and clinked it with his.“That’s the spirit.”
“Maybe we can practice feeling like we’re locals,” he said impulsively, charmed by her smile, by the way she included him in the conversation and the rituals such as toasting an event or action.“In case…” He bit back the rest of the sentence.
They would never be locals together.
They had a contract, but he made the mistake of looking into her amber eyes, surprised by the storm of emotion swimming in them, none of it he could decipher.He struggled with what to say.He had so many questions, and it looked like she did, too, but words failed to form.He had no answers, yet, except that last night after his run and their room service order, he’d decided to take a DNA test in case he approached the Telfords.
“Maybe,” she said quietly.“Ready to walk over to the western wear store, or do you prefer to drive?”
*
Thinking about belonging,becoming a local was crazy.Dangerous.Her heart felt like it was going to accelerate out of her chest just at the inkling of exploring starting a business that wasn’t totally online.Montana was not that far from Idaho.
I’m not sixteen anymore.
She’d never been compliant.Or treated with the respect Telford had shown her.It was time for her to seize this opportunity to build a new life.Stop constantly looking over her shoulder as she lived a life on the move.She was an adult.Smart.Safe.She had rights.And goals.And now her goal was to check out Marietta’s Western Wear store to see if some of her work might sell here.When she and Telford had gone to the lab this morning, she’d dropped off a few of the horses she’d crocheted in the pediatric ward at the hospital, and the staff had been grateful and had been open to future donations for the patients.
The western wear store was cute and well stocked.She helped Telford pick out more casual clothes, a bit shocked to see his growing pile of jeans, Henleys, and a few snap-up flannels.And when she added a vest in the same color tone, and he didn’t blink.She’d always been so careful acquiring new clothing—not just with money but with space.
“If he insists that you try some things on and then tells me to secretly ring them up, it will be déjà vu,” Joanie said.
“Huh?”
“Oh, his brother or cousin, Cash”—Joanie colored a little—“was in here last month playfully modeling for some documentary or something, and he insisted that his girlfriend, now fiancée, buy a beautiful coat.And then he had me pick out more clothing for her.”
That triggered Telford’s interest.
