I guess we move forward.”
She smiled grimly as she pushed off from the desk. “Yes. In closed-toe shoes.”
* * *
THE WOMAN PUT him on edge and then, to confuse the issue, she’d been utterly reasonable just now, suggesting that they bury the past and even apologizing to him.
Had she ever apologized to him before?
What could she have said? “Sorry, Dylan, for my attempts to destroy your 4.0 grade point average and thus affect your scholarship eligibility”?
He hadn’t told anyone back then how important going to college had been to him, and he was kind of glad of that after he’d quit school following his father’s death.
Mike had insisted that he go back and finish his biochemistry degree, but long study sessions and grieving didn’t jibe so he’d quit school and by a fluke had gotten the opportunity to attend police officer training school.
Action had felt good, had helped him get his head together, and after a few weeks on the job he’d realized that he’d accidentally found a profession he could happily make a career of. He might not be a college graduate, but he was doing something that mattered.
Dylan’s lip curled as he massaged the shoulder he’d hit on the shelf on his way down to the floor that morning. He’d trusted Lindsey. And now he felt like a chump, but he wasn’t giving up a career he loved.
“Customer needs loading up.” Jolie’s voice came loud and clear through the intercom. Rather than answer, he headed for the door, limping the first few steps before the knee he’d banged loosened up. He gritted his teeth and kept his stride normal as he walked to the counter where Jolie handed him a ticket. “Red Dodge.”
No doubt, since it was the only vehicle in the lot. “Thanks,” he muttered.
The customer—a good-looking blonde in her early thirties—stood just outside the door. “Hi,” he said as he came out the door before glancing at the ticket. Eighteen bags of alfalfa pellets. “Would you mind backing your truck up to the warehouse door?”
She smiled, her warm brown eyes crinkling attractively at the corners, and held up the keys. “Would you please do it?” she asked. Over her head he saw Jolie raise her eyebrows in an amused way, then look back down at her computer screen.
“Not at all,” Dylan replied, taking the keys.
He was a little surprised when she got into the truck with him rather than wait inside as he’d thought she’d do.
“You’re new here,” she said, flashing a smile his way.
“I’m Dylan Culver,” he said, pointing to the Culver Ranch and Feed sign on front of the building before putting her truck in gear and swinging it in a reverse arc.
“Related to Finn, then?”
“Cousin.”
“Ah,” she said as if he’d said something profound. “I’m Codie James.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dylan said with a quick nod. He maneuvered the truck to the loading area, put it in Park and opened the door, leaving it running. Eighteen trips later, he patted the rear of her truck, giving Codie the signal to drive on. She waved at him in the mirror and pulled away.
Jolie didn’t look up when Dylan came back in—in fact, it was almost as if she were purposely not looking at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He came over to lean on the counter. “Nothing my ass.”
Jolie’s fingers stilled on the keys and then she settled her hands in her lap before explaining. “Codie and Finn had a...thing...going on for a while, and I couldn’t help but notice that she was looking at you as if you’re next on the menu.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Dylan was not surprised to find out the two had been involved. Codie looked as if she enjoyed men and Finn enjoyed being enjoyed.
Jolie shrugged one shoulder. “It wasn’t a warning. A guy like you should be adept at reading the signs and making a decision as to whether you want to engage or not.”
“A guy like me?” The question came out before he thought and he instantly regretted it.
“A guy with a hotness factor.”
She spoke so matter-of-factly that for a second he thought he’d misunderstood her. But there really wasn’t any way to misunderstand her meaning.
“Don’t look so stunned. You’re physically fit, good-looking.” She let out a sigh. “Sorry. I thought you knew.”
“I, uh...” He slapped the counter. “I’ve got to go see what the deal is with the forklift.”
“Don’t break any safety rules,” she called as he headed for the door.
He didn’t answer.
* * *
JOLIE WAS STILL smiling when she looked back at the computer. She’d made Dylan Culver blush. Ha.
She finished the accounts, helped a couple of customers buy small items that didn’t require her to roust Dylan from the warehouse where he was either avoiding her or actually fixing the forklift. She’d never known Dylan to back down from anything, so she assumed he was fixing the forklift...but she rather liked the idea of him avoiding her—even if it meant that she was all alone in this depressing store.
At least they’d had a decent number of customers today, which gave Jolie hope that perhaps the past month had been a fluke, and that perhaps once the weather turned nice, people would start coming in...although in her gut she knew that they would go to the bigger stores where they could not only pick up feed but also plants and maybe some better tack.
It was almost five o’clock when Jolie gave up and went out to the warehouse to make certain Dylan wasn’t pinned beneath the forklift or something. She’d assumed he was fine, since she called orders out to the warehouse and no customers had come back in complaining that they hadn’t been loaded. She had not, however, heard the roar of the small forklift and when she walked into the warehouse, the reason was fairly obvious.
Dylan was bent over the engine, muttering to himself and looking as though he was having the time of his life. When the door clicked shut behind her, he stepped away from the machine and Jolie wrinkled her nose as she took in his grease-stained shirt and jeans.
“Whoever does your laundry is going to be pissed,” she said.
“I do my own laundry,” he said, patting the crescent wrench he held into the palm of his hand.
Jolie leaned against the door but didn’t say anything, wondering if he’d done the laundry when he’d been married not that long ago. Finn had mentioned the breakup in passing, but Jolie had asked no questions. It wasn’t her business, although she wondered about the woman Dylan had married. Had she tired of his perfectionist ways? Although...now that she thought about it, perfectionists didn’t climb shelves to change a lightbulb. They took the time to get the ladder and do the job correctly. It was possible that the Dylan she thought she knew was not the Dylan standing in front of her.
“I just wanted to check with you before I went home,” she finally said when he started frowning at her, as if wondering the direction of her thoughts. He glanced at the dusty clock above the pallets of feed as if surprised at the time.
“See you tomorrow.” He patted the wrench in his palm again as he spoke, showing all the signs of an impatient male that wanted to get back to work.
“We had a good day today.”
“Yeah.” He spoke on a note of caution as if sensing she was about to launch into something. So she did.
“A day with this many customers is unusual. Really unusual.”
“I’ve