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He frowned at Charlotte. “You’re serious?”
She nodded. “I need new boots, and Gracie here is the only one who offered to shop with me. The Wrangler store, right?”
“Right!” Gracie chirped. Damn it. She was excited. And other than Girl Scouts, Tripp hadn’t taken her into town in over two weeks.
Tripp leaned in, trying—and failing—not to breathe in Charlotte’s delicious scent of vanilla and lilacs. “This is why you should call, not just stop by.”
“I could say the same thing to you. But we have business to discuss and honestly, there’s only one Montgomery I’m happy to see at the moment.”
She smiled at Gracie.
“Fine,” Tripp said, mustering his own fake smile. “Looks like we’re all going boot shopping.
Gracie cheered, Charlotte grinned, and Tripp sighed. He pulled on his socks and boots, grabbed his truck keys and Stetson, and wondered how long he could handle being in the same room with Charlotte Gram without wanting to strangle her.
Or kiss the panties off of her.
Chapter Five
Charlotte had no experience with kids, but Gracie was pretty great. She was smart, had a ton of energy, and was just all around a fun, happy little girl.
“You need these, and these…ooh, and these,” she was saying, pulling boots from the shelves and stacking them on the floor. Charlotte just sat on the bench facing the massive wall of boots, all shapes and colors of them, and let the little girl do her thing.
The store clerk on the other end of the shop behind the register didn’t seem to care, and neither did Tripp. People around there must’ve been really laid-back, because children weren’t even allowed to go in most shoe boutiques in downtown L.A. Much less touch anything. Wyoming was more refreshing and calm than she’d expected. There was no having to battle a crowd, and no one was judged based on what designer label they wore.
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“Whoa, these are super purple,” Charlotte said, holding up the last pair of boots Gracie brought her.
“Uh-huh,” Gracie confirmed and went back on her rampage.
Tripp just stood by the wall, arms crossed, looking like he was thinking through a kidney stone. The turmoil in his eyes pricked her nerves with little needles of anxiety.
She remembered those same turbulent eyes, wild in the darkness as he looked up from between her legs.
She shivered and refocused on the plethora of boots in front of her.
“Hey, Gracie?” she called, and the little girl skipped over. “You’re the expert here, so you have to tell me what I need for going out in the mud and working on the farm. Are these good for that? I want to make sure I don’t slip and fall when I have to milk Wynonna.”
Gracie pinched her little chin and stood exactly how her father was currently standing. Pretty cute. She stared down the boot selection then said, “Slipping and falling hurts a lot. My daddy falls by the cows all the time.”
Charlotte laughed, and Tripp cleared his throat.
“I don’t fall all the time,” he muttered.
“We need to get you girl boots like Daddy’s,” she said cheerfully, and ran back to the wall on the other end of the room. “You try the purple first, though!” she called over her shoulder.
Charlotte obeyed and grabbed the purple boot.
“You don’t have to do this,” Tripp said quietly enough that Gracie wouldn’t hear.
“Do what?”
“Pretend like you’re having a good time.”
“But I am,” she said honestly. She put the boot to her foot and tried to pull it on, but it was snug. “Well, aside from you jumping between happy and pissy like a bipolar cowboy.” She tried to jam her foot in, but the leather was too thick and tough.
Oh, for the love of…
