the three children arguing over who was at fault. “Women like us were not meant to stay at home and raise a passel of rug rats. I can’t imagine what Toby was thinking when he took in that brood.”
The soft dark hairs on the back of Angie’s neck bristled at her mother’s familiar rant against children. Just ignore it, Angie thought. She knew better than to engage Doris in a conversation like that, especially in public.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I can’t do dinner tonight. I already have plans.” Angie just hoped her mother didn’t ask what those plans might be because she’d probably spend the first half of her evening looking in her pantry trying to decide what to eat and the second half sitting in front of the television, wearing out the remote.
“Oh, really?” Doris perked up. “What are you doing tonight?”
So much for hoping her mother wouldn’t ask.
As the next customer began to place his groceries on the conveyor belt, Angie tore her gaze from her mom and glanced at Toby, the man who’d gotten in line behind her. In spite of those gorgeous baby blues and the kind of face that made even strangers want to confide in him, Toby looked a bit frazzled today.
Funny. He usually looked so capable and put-together.
“I’ll have to give you a call and we can talk more later,” Angie told her mother. “We don’t want to hold up the line.”
“Sure, honey.” Doris glanced over her shoulder. When she spotted Toby, she offered him a sympathetic smile. “You’ve certainly got your hands full.”
“Just enough to keep life interesting—and fun.” Toby tossed Doris a boyish grin, then winked at Angie as if the two of them were in on a secret.
Being included, even in a make-believe secret, was enough to lift Angie’s spirits and to trigger a smile of her own.
“We’re going fishing,” Brian, the older boy, said. “That is, if there’re any fish left by the time we get to Cutter’s Pond.”
Toby placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Nonsense. Everyone knows the bigger fish are busy fattening themselves up and waiting for just the right person to come and catch them up.” Toby winked at Angie again, and she realized he must have overheard her mother’s comment about fishing for a suitable mate while working at The Hollows Cantina.
As her cheeks warmed, she looked at the small space under the cash register, wishing she could stuff her five-foot-seven-inch body into the square opening.
But why stress about it? It wasn’t as though she’d set her sights on Toby as a viable romantic option. He was practically the guy next door.
She’d known the Jones family—make that the Fortune Jones family—forever. She’d gone to school with Toby’s sister Stacey, although they’d never run in the same circles. She’d even double-dated with Toby’s brother Jude a couple of times, but there’d never been any sparks, so nothing had ever come of it.
Toby was probably the only one of Stacey’s hunky brothers Angie hadn’t considered dating.
Not that he wasn’t just as handsome as the others. Angie looked at his tall frame, lean and muscled from years of ranch work and extracurricular sports coaching. Yep, Toby Fortune Jones could definitely compete with his brothers in the looks department.
But Toby always seemed so confident and so sure of himself. And people who knew exactly what they wanted and went after it always intimidated her. Plus, the whole “Mother Teresa meets Dudley Do-Right” personality only made Toby seem all the more out of reach.
A guy like Toby would never be interested in someone like her. He’d want a woman who was down-to-earth, a woman who had her ducks in a row.
Someone who had dreams and plans to fulfill. Someone who wouldn’t ever stress about what job she was going to try next.
Angie’s mother reached for her grocery bag, causing Angie to break her bold perusal.
“Must be nice to have so much free time on your hands,” Doris said to Toby. “Have fun.”
Angie could see the disapproval evident on her mom’s face. Doris Edwards didn’t believe in burning daylight simply for fishing or spending time with one’s family.
“We will,” Toby told her. “You have a nice day, Mrs. Edwards.”
As Doris headed to the parking lot, she turned back to look at what Angie was wearing behind the check stand. “And, honey,” Doris said reproachingly, her voice quieter yet still loud enough for anyone within five feet of her to hear, “try to dress a bit more conservatively. Nobody is going to take you seriously with all those curves popping out everywhere. You look like you just got off a shift at a roadhouse honky-tonk.”
Doris’s smartphone rang, thankfully cutting off her insult to Angie’s snug-but-comfortable jeans and her white T-shirt. “Gotta take this. You know, the client always comes first.”
Angie started the conveyor belt as her mother breezed out the door in a conservative shoulder-padded power suit. She tried to smile through the mortification that warmed her cheeks and strained the muscles in her face. “Chips, soda, cookies... Looks like someone is planning a picnic.”
Toby tossed her a playful grin. “Fishing on the lake is hungry business.”
“It should be a nice day for it,” Angie said, as she began to check out Toby—or rather, his groceries.
Not that there wasn’t plenty to check out about the man himself—if she were looking.
Brown hair that was stylishly mussed, but not out of place. Dazzling blue eyes that were both playful and bright. Broad, strapping shoulders. Arms that looked as though they could pitch a mean curveball—or hold a woman tightly all night.
“I don’t want to go to Cutter’s Pond,” Kylie complained, breaking Angie from her wayward thoughts. “You’re just going to kill those poor fish. And I don’t even like to eat them.”
Brian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a stinking crybaby, Kylie. We never get to do anything fun without you complaining.”
Toby glanced at Angie and gave a little shrug. “Sometimes it’s hard to find an activity or an outing they can all enjoy. It seems that someone always has an objection.”
Angie smiled. “To be honest, I can’t blame her a bit. I never did like putting a worm on a hook.”
“You had to go fishing, too?” the little red-haired girl asked.
Angie offered her a sympathetic smile. “When my father was alive, he would take me to Cutter’s Pond. And while I could usually count on getting sunburned and bit by a mosquito or two, there was always something special about spending time with my daddy.”
“But I don’t have a daddy,” the girl said.
Angie’s cheeks warmed. She’d only wanted to help, but had probably made things worse.
“You might not have a dad,” Toby said, as he gave one of Kylie’s lopsided auburn pigtails a gentle tug, “but you have me.”
Toby’s hands might be skilled at lassoing horses and throwing a football, but the poor man couldn’t do a little girl’s hair to save his life.
Still, these kids were lucky to have Toby. If he hadn’t stepped up to the plate when their aunt had gone off the deep end and lost custody, they might have been separated and placed in different foster homes.
Justin, the boy who’d climbed the ladder, said, “Too bad we don’t have a babysitter for Kylie. She’s gonna wah-wah like a little crybaby and ruin our whole day.” Justin made fake crying noises and rubbed his eyes to emphasize his overly dramatic point.
Maybe Angie could help out after all. “I only have to work for a half hour or so, and then my shift is over. If you don’t mind leaving Kylie here with me, I’d be happy to hang out