Page 30 of Rescued by the Single Dad

Clint smiled, nodded and continued into the store, welcoming the waft of cool air from the A/C. He waved at the cashiers and the employees stocking the shelves, followed by ten or so patrons in the store he recognized. Thankfully, because everyone knew everyone, they didn’t feel compelled to always stop and chat. A simple wave or nod usually sufficed. That didn’t mean there weren’t eyes on him, though.

There were always eyes.

He made his way to the back of the store, where stairs headed down to the clothing and hardware section.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, he hung a hard right, then a left, and into a big room full of clothing racks, shelves full of pants, shirts, and shoes. It was well-stocked and with a good selection, too. Nothing high-end. No Gucci or Prada, but you could get a pair of Levi jeans for cheap.

He went to the women’s section and could feel eyes on him.

Clearing his throat, he ignored the burning sensation on his back from all the attention, and opened up the list Brooke gave him.

Oh for fuck’s sake. A bra? Panties?

His face grew as hot as a sidewalk in the sun as he made his way to the undergarment section. He picked up a black lacy bra. Then checked the size Brooke gave him. 34C.

But the one in his hand said 34C push-up. The one beside it said bralette. And the one beside that said extra support-plunge. What the hell was the difference?

Then he started to hear the whispers.

Everyone knew that Talia was only eight. No way in hell would he need to be shopping in the women’s section for his daughter, yet. And even so, he ordered her underwear online. Let her pick out the patterns and they were delivered in two days.

He spun around and booked it away from the bras, only to knock over a pedestal bin of two-for-one thongs.

Underwear went everywhere.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Growling, he bent down and started to scoop up the underwear, trying his hardest not to grab them by the string that goes up the ass crack. Not that the other part of it was much better. Or that he was touching anyone in particular’s underwear, but it still felt like a weird violation to be touching a piece of string that would eventually floss someone’s crack.

He needed to get the fuck out of there.

“It’s okay, Clint,” came the voice of Shelley Diamond, one of the employees at the store. She kneeled down beside him. “I got this.”

Huffing out in frustration and embarrassment, Clint stood up.

Shelley finished putting the underwear back in the bin, then stood up and faced him, a big, albeit curious smile on her round face. “What can I help you with?”

He didn’t have to look around the clothing room to know that all ears were tuned in and all eyes were on him. The entire island knew about the death of their wives, and that none of the brothers had dated or had girlfriends since their wives’ passing. Clint buying women’s clothes, had to have the gossip mill just spinning.

He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Uh ... nothing. Sorry, Shelley, I misunderstood Talia. All good. You have a great day.” Then he ran out of there and took the stairs back up to the grocery section two at a time.

He didn’t even bother to check to see if the watermelon he grabbed on his way to the cashier was a decent one or not. He just needed to get out of the store. But to go in and not buy anything would be even more suspicious. Plus, his kid asked for something healthy and delicious, so he wasn’t going to deny her.

And because the universe seemed to be in one of its taunting moods, he got stuck behind Gertie Redmond, one of the oldest residents on the island. She was even older than Bonn Remmen. But she wasn’t on the council of elders. Or at least she wasn’t since Clint and his brothers moved to the island. It might be because she was pretty much deaf, blind in one eye, and rarely remembered what day it was, let alone what year. She was also incredibly slow and liked to try to haggle with the cashiers for every item in her cart, even though haggling wasn’t allowed.

“I can take you over here, Clint,” came the voice of an angel from the next till.

Gertie was still loading her groceries onto the belt, the poor cashier looking equal parts bored as well as nervous as she watched with experienced fear what was going to happen next.

Clint stepped over to the next till. The cashier, Jordana, a pretty redhead with gray eyes and freckles all over her face, gave him a wide, toothy smile. She was a single mom with two little girls similar in age to Talia. Clint didn’t know her story, but she was always friendly and a little flirty with him when he saw her around.

“You saved me,” he said, plopping the watermelon on the belt. “I’d be completely gray by the time I got to the front of the line. Not just sporting the few hints of silver I have now.”

Her giggle was cute as she swept the watermelon across the scanner. “I think the silver makes you look distinguished. Besides, silver foxes are becoming quite the thing.” A dark flush slashed her cheeks. “Is that everything?”

He nodded. “It is, thanks.”

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