Random Acts Of Fashion. Nikki Rivers

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СКАЧАТЬ to get a little giggle out of the girl from New York City. Danny never had any trouble being clever with the ladies. Lukas wished he could think of something clever to say but the longer he stood there, stoically silent, the harder it was to say anything at all—never mind clever.

      “I’ll move these boards,” was all he could finally come up with. He cringed at the lameness of it. And maybe that was why, when he grabbed the small stack of one-by-fours, his grip didn’t quite close around them and they went clattering to the sidewalk, grazing the toe of one of Gillian Caine’s pink, spike-heeled boots in the process.

      She squealed and jumped back, then fixed him with those gray eyes while she stuck her nose into the air. “Is that how you welcome all the new girls to town, McCoy, by nearly crippling them and skinning their shoe leather?”

      When he said nothing—and how could he with his mouth full of a brand-new load of sand—Danny swooped in to soothe her and make sure she was okay. Lukas knew he should apologize, but if he couldn’t get a word out before he had almost buried her feet in lumber, he sure couldn’t spit out any words now.

      “You sure you’re okay?” he heard Danny ask once again. “I’m fine, thanks. You’ve been sweet. But your friend here could obviously use some help in that area. Do the town a favor and don’t let him volunteer for the welcoming committee,” she said before turning in a swirl of glittering silver and heading down Sheridan Road toward Sweet Buns.

      The compulsion still with him, Lukas watched her walk away.

      GILLIAN MARCHED INTO Sweet Buns and stopped dead.

      “I think I’ve just found civilization.” She closed her eyes and took a deep, long breath in through her nostrils. The aroma nearly made her swoon.

      The young woman behind the counter laughed. “Sounds like we have a new coffee addict in town.”

      “If it tastes as good as it smells, you’ve got yourself a customer for life.”

      “Regular or decaf?”

      “I’m from New York City.” Gillian slid onto a stool at the counter. “What do you think?”

      The woman laughed again and poured her a cup of regular. Gillian lifted it to her mouth and took a sip. “Mmm. This is heaven. I never dreamed I’d find a cup of coffee this fantastic so far from Manhattan.” She took another swallow, then held out her hand. “I’m Gillian Caine, by the way.”

      “Yes, I know,” the woman behind the counter said as she shook Gillian’s hand. “You used to visit your aunt. I’m Molly. Molly Jones.”

      Gillian shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I remember you.”

      “Oh, we weren’t friends,” Molly quickly added.

      Gillian rolled her eyes. “Big surprise. I wasn’t exactly the most popular girl to come to town. Hopefully,” she added with a nervous little laugh, “that will change, considering I’m reopening my aunt’s dress shop.”

      “Is what you’re wearing an example of what you’ll be selling?”

      “Yes, it is. I designed it myself.” Gillian stood up and gave a little twirl. “What do you think?”

      “It’s incredible. But—”

      “Ma-ma!”

      “Oops. Sorry. My little girl is paging me. Be right back.”

      Molly disappeared into the kitchen and Gillian picked up her coffee cup and strolled around the restaurant. The place was kind of cute with its green gingham curtains and tiny oak tables. Quaint. And the coffee was excellent. When she saw that the beans were sold by the pound, she resolved to buy some to take back to the shop. She was going to be up half the night again, working. On nights like this one was going to be, coffee was a girl’s best friend.

      In fact, she could use another cup right now. After a few minutes of waiting for a refill, Gillian followed the sounds through the kitchen, out the open back door and into a small fenced-in yard. Molly was bending over a little girl with blond curls and the face of a little angel.

      “She’s gorgeous!” Gillian exclaimed. “What’s her name?”

      “This is Chloe. Chloe, say hi to Gillian.”

      Chloe babbled something incoherently adorable. “Oh, she’s so sweet!” said Gillian. “How old is she?”

      “Fifteen months. Be careful where you walk, it’s a little muddy out here from the rain yesterday.”

      “Oh, I hope you don’t mind that I came out here. I could hear the two of you just babbling away and I thought that since I’m going to be practically a neighbor it’d be okay for me to join in on the girl talk.”

      Molly lifted Chloe out of the playpen. “No, of course I don’t mind. I apologize for abandoning you like that. This is a slow time of day for Sweet Buns. I’ve got a few high school girls who help out when it’s busy. Now that Chloe is walking, she gets a little restless penned up sometimes.”

      She put her down on the grass. Chloe immediately went toddling off toward the fence at the back of the yard. The child had excellent taste, Gillian thought. Beyond the fence and across a small sand beach, the bay glittered in the late September sun like the two-carat tanzanite Gillian had seen in the window at Tiffany’s.

      “It’s beautiful out here,” Gillian said. “You should offer al fresco dining.”

      “Someday, maybe,” Molly said. “When Chloe’s older and I have more time to devote to the business.”

      Gillian had a million questions to ask about how business was and what the peak hours were at the department store down the street, but the sound of Chloe squealing in delight grabbed her attention. The little girl was toddling with rather alarming speed toward her, gurgling happily about something and waving her little fists up and down.

      “She’s absolutely, seriously adorable,” Gillian gushed, truthfully. Not that Gillian wasn’t capable of gushing untruthfully if it might be good for business. But she really did think Chloe was cute.

      As Chloe tottered closer, Gillian squatted down and held out her arms to welcome the little cherub. “Come on, Chloe,” she cooed. “Come to—”

      Chloe squealed, drew back her fisted hands, and let them fly. It turned out that Chloe’s little fists hadn’t been empty.

      Splat!

      Gillian’s mouth dropped open as mud spattered all over her trousers.

      “Chloe!” Molly yelled. “Oh, my gosh! I can’t believe she did that! I’m so sorry!”

      Chloe giggled and ran back for more mud.

      Before she could reach the puddle again, Molly scooped her up and deposited her back into the playpen.

      “Gosh! I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Gillian. Is it washable?”

      Gillian looked at Molly like she’d just spoken a foreign language. “Washable? Of course it’s not washable!”

      “Oh. СКАЧАТЬ