The woman was right. “Yep, these are perfect.” Although the high heels had been pretty, now that she saw the boots and dress together, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect combination.
“Yes, they are. Do I know my stuff or what?” the woman praised herself. Vivian nodded her agreement. “I bet y’all city folk wouldn’t be caught dead in our fashion.”
Vivian instantly felt like a jerk, but when she looked back at her, she didn’t see any sign of anger or upset. The woman was just stating facts, in that way that Vivian was starting to realize people around here tended to do.
“You can say that again,” Vivian returned. “But it’s always nice to try something new.”
“So you like it?”
“I love it,” she replied earnestly. “As a matter of fact, I’ll take both.”
“Perfect! You can wear it out,” the woman asserted as she rushed into the dressing room to retrieve the clothes Vivian had worn in and proceeded to drop them all in a shopping bag. “Go ahead and pop those tags for me, hon,” she instructed, then scanned the items into the register.
After Vivian paid and exchanged thanks and other pleasantries, she grew suddenly aware of the time. She’d been gone for more than a couple of hours. Having taken a long nap, she’d left the house late, which meant it was nearing dinnertime, and she wasn’t there to help Gretta with the preparation.
“Shit,” she hissed to herself and hurried back down the street to her parked car. The Porsche stood out like a sore thumb, even against the couple of brand-new pickups. Not for the first time since she’d arrived, she felt as if she stuck out like a sore thumb. No matter what clothes she wore or friends she made, would she ever truly fit in, or would she only be playing the part…just as she had been doing her whole life.
Her sails were sagging heavily when she heard a familiar voice say, “Doin’ a little shopping, I see.”
Stopping in her tracks, Vivian pivoted on her heel and looked back to see Nash’s surprisingly friendly face as he headed up the walk toward her.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she said, and immediately kicked herself when his expression turned quizzical and he chuckled.
“I don’t think that was the one you were lookin’ for, but good job. A little more time ‘n you’ll fit right in.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. “What are you doing here?” she asked instead, turning the topic away from herself.
“I should be askin’ you that. I live here.”
Raising her eyebrows, she said, “Here? As in right here? In this very spot.” She pointed at the ground beneath their feet.
Nash smirked. “You know what I mean, smartass.”
“So…”
“I was just takin’ a break for dinner,” he informed her.
“You’re not eating at Gretta’s table tonight?”
“It’s Tuesday,” he said as if that explained everything. “Apparently, you aren’t either?”
“I was just headed back, actually.” Gretta was going to be upset. Or worried. Or both. Vivian felt terrible as the seconds continued ticking by and she continued standing there.
“Lookin’ like that?” Nash asked.
Vivian looked down at her dress, the boots, and felt insecurity set in. “What’s wrong with the way I look?”
“Nothin’,” Nash balked, “unless Gretta’s throwing a dinner party and you’re the guest of honor. Which, by the way, wouldn’t be such a bad idea. We don’t get new people ‘round here very often.”
“A party in my honor?” Vivian said, surprised by the suggestion. Then she remembered the birthday pool party Maryanne had invited her to that she didn’t intend to attend. Oh well, she’d find an excuse later if she had to. “Better be careful there, cowboy,” she continued. “I might just start to think you like my company.”
His expression turned comically horrified. “Like your—Well, I never.” She laughed, which seemed to please him. “If I liked you, would I offer to buy you dinner tonight?”
Vivian had a ready answer on her tongue, but then she realized what he’d said and held back, unsure how to answer after all. “Um…Wait…are you…asking?”
“Do I speak English?” he asked in return, confusing her even more.
“Yes?”