Chapter 9
TRIPP
Tripp stood outside the new clothing shop in town. He’d been on his way to Bean Counters for a cup of coffee after dropping a few barrels at the ice cream shop, but the mannequins in the window had caught his eye.
The shop itself looked like it was kind of on the fancy side for him. The wooden sign said Sweater Weather in swirly letters, and the clothes inside looked warm but expensive.
He just couldn’t take his eyes off the window display of a woman and two little girls, each in a warm and cozy pink Christmas sweater. Jillian and the girls would love something like that.
Stop thinking about Jillian, he tried to tell himself.
But that was already a lost cause. Try as he might, he just couldn’t do it. And besides, it wouldn’t be weird. They were newly returned to town, why not welcome them back with a little gift?
Shaking his head at his own nonsense, he pushed open the door, releasing a warm breeze that carried a hint of roses.
“Welcome to Sweater Weather,” the lady behind the counter said. “Can I help you—oh, hey, Tripp.”
“Vicky,” he said, recognizing his old classmate. “Is this your place?”
He hoped there wasn’t too much surprise in his voice. He’d known Vicky Miller since high school, and she had never seemed the entrepreneurial type. He had to hand it to her though, she was going to make a fortune off the flatlanders with all this nice stuff.
“Oh, gosh, no,” Vicky said, chuckling. “The owner is from New York. I’m just working the counter.”
“Ah, okay,” Tripp said.
“Are you looking for a gift?” Vicky asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I like the sweaters in the window. I need three, one adult two kids.”
“Okay,” Vicky said with a funny smile. “What sizes?”
Shoot. He hadn’t thought about that. He wasn’t even sure how women’s sizes worked. He knew they were numbers of some sort, but they didn’t make any sense.
“The woman is pretty small,” he guessed. “And the kids are five and seven.”
“Got it,” Vicky said. “I think I know what to do.”
She headed to the shelves that were built across the back of the shop and grabbed three of the pink, fluffy sweaters with the white Nordic print that the mannequins were wearing.
“These should be just right,” she told him, placing them on the counter.
“This too,” he said, noticing a white scarf on a rack by the counter. When he grabbed it to place it on the counter, it felt good in his hand, light and soft as a newborn calf’s belly, but warm.
“A cashmere scarf,” Vicky said, eyebrows lifting. “Lucky lady.”
“She deserves it,” Tripp said lightly.
Vicky’s smile grew a little as she carefully scanned each item.
The total took his breath away, but Tripp handed over his debit card. He hardly spent money on anything, and the idea of doing something nice for Jillian and the girls made him happy. It was more than the little gift he’d had in mind, but Jillian didn’t need to know that.
After he paid, Vicky carefully wrapped each item in tissue paper and slid it into a fancy branded shopping bag with a ribbon handle.
Tripp tried not to show his impatience. The heat and the perfume in the store were getting to him, but he didn’t want to take off his coat since he was heading right back out.
“Okay, there you go,” Vicky said finally, handing him the bag. “And be sure to hang onto the receipt.”
“It’s fine,” he said, waving it away.
“When you try to give Jillian all this stuff and she runs away again, I doubt you’re going to want to wear it yourself,” Vicky said, smirking at him.
He blinked at her for a moment.
“A small woman and two little girls?” Vicky said, arching one brow. “Who else is it going to be?”
“She’s not going to run,” he said firmly.
But suddenly, he wasn’t so sure.
The sweaters in the window were bright and cheerful.
But the fancy bag felt heavy in his hand, and his stomach twisted as he remembered the look on Jillian’s face as she ran from him back in school, her golden ponytail bouncing on her shoulder blades as she disappeared down the hallway to the soundtrack of his friends laughing at him.
“See you around, Vicky,” he said, heading out of the little shop before he said something he’d regret.
The cold air outside felt good in his lungs as he scanned the park across the street aimlessly, willing his temper to ease off.
Families watched their kids playing on the swing sets and monkey bars, most of them people he’d known all his life.
Why was it so easy for everyone else to just pick someone and settle down?
I don’t want to just pick someone, the voice in his head murmured. I’ve only ever wanted one woman, and I picked her a long time ago. She just didn’t pick me back.
He headed for his truck, tossing the bag in the passenger side and getting in instead of heading to Bean Counters. He could make coffee at home—there was no reason to spend more time in town. And he’d already wasted enough money for one day.