Page 11 of First Date: Divorce (Wyoming Marriage Association #1)

WEDNESDAY

Pauline caught them before they left for Billings in the morning.

And caught was exactly what it felt like.

“Shopping? You’re going shopping ? You need a lot more prepping on each other.”

“My wardrobe needs to tempt the divorce lawyer. Eric’s right about that.

They have to think I — we — might be a good target.

My clothes don’t sell the part. And they don’t match Eric, a well-to-do-lawyer, which should appeal to this divorce lawyer.

Taking him to the cleaners while representing me would give her a good payday. ”

Overly serious, Eric said to Pauline, “It’s strictly a business trip. We promise not to have fun.”

K.D. gave him a warning look, “And we will prep during the drive.”

Pauline propped her hands on her hips. “Why are you doing this? Why are you going to Marriage-Save as a supposedly married couple?”

“Trying to save our mythical marriage?” Eric offered.

“No. Why are you really doing this. Both of you.”

K.D. felt his look toward her, but didn’t return it. Did he think she and Pauline were in cahoots? That it wasn’t coincidence they’d asked the same question — but a natural enough question.

Pauline continued, “You can say you don’t need to know each other as real people, though I think it’s dangerous not to, but there’s no arguing that your true motivations for getting into this should help you each understand the other better, know where you’re coming from and that should come in handy when you have to think on your feet and fill-in on the fly. ”

“You mean there’s something you haven’t covered?”

K.D. sucked in her cheeks slightly to avoid a spontaneous grin at his dryness.

Pauline clearly didn’t feel that temptation. “There’s lots I — we — haven’t covered yet and you’re not getting out of it that easy. You first, Eric. Why are you doing this?”

“My friend, Cully Grainger, asked me to, along with the wife of another good friend, John Griffin, and supported by their respective spouses.”

Pauline glared at him.

“I want to rehabilitate the image of lawyers,” he suggested.

Pauline snorted slightly. “Fine.” Her tone added, Go ahead, don’t answer the question fully. You’ll regret it. “K.D.?”

He’d given her the perfect path to follow. “Tal Bennett asked my sheriff if I would do it. My commanding officer asked me to do it on behalf of Tal Bennett. Wouldn’t be a good career move to say no.”

Nothing slight about this snort.

*

“Please tell her — my wife — I’ll be back later, Mrs. Cavendish,” Eric said to the store manager.

K.D. was in the changing room of the recommended clothes shop in Billings.

She and Mrs. Cavendish did not see eye to eye and K.D. refused to have the older woman in with her. Him, either, though the original clerk suggested it.

Yeah, right.

He knew he’d rushed K.D. into this shopping trip. He’d done it on purpose. It gave her less time to call on her considerable defenses.

The drive up had been cordial as they quizzed each other on Pauline’s curriculum.

He had a heck of a lot easier time with family, considering she’d had only her mother for most of her life until acquiring several years ago a stepfather she didn’t have much regard for.

But she’d done great on his family that extended well beyond the core of his parents and siblings and their spouses.

The cordiality dimmed when she saw the shop and recognized its stratum.

She’d tried to put on the brakes. He’d dealt with that by ushering her inside — with a firm grip — where she couldn’t express herself as clearly.

Her resistance so flustered the young clerk who’d greeted them that the store manager took over.

Now Mrs. Cavendish gave him a would-be sympathetic look. “Of course, sir.”

Except he wasn’t leaving from boredom. There’d been one moment when the dressing room door opened a bare slice for the clerk to hand K.D.

clothes, with the angle just right for the mirror to show him her leg nearly to its top.

The chance of that happening again would make it worthwhile to stick around.

He also wasn’t leaving because of Hilary flashbacks. Until this instant, he hadn’t thought of her at all.

He was leaving because he thought K.D. needed a break from him.

Besides, if he stuck around, she’d argue — more — about the expense, about his paying. And she’d be uncomfortable modeling clothes for him, which confined her to the dressing room.

Depending on what she tried on, he might have been uncomfortable for other reasons.

A natural, male reaction.

No big deal.

Because no way was he getting burned again. Once stupid was an accident. Twice stupid was certifiable.

On the other hand, with K.D. Hamilton he’d be a different brand of stupid. … Except he wasn’t going to be stupid at all. Not ever again.

He’d suspected the difference between this woman and his ex from the moment she walked into Cully’s office. When he’d purposefully been untactful about her wardrobe not fitting the style needed for Marriage-Save, he’d been sure.

Hilary would have been in a snit for a month. K.D. didn’t blink, acknowledged the truth, and dealt with the situation.

Yet he’d seen her flicker of pleasure when he’d said her clothes suited her.

He’d meant it. Yes, her clothes fit her fine. And he enjoyed that. He wasn’t dead. Just not about to jump into a fire.

But there was something else about K.D.’s wardrobe. A practicality, a reliability, a sure-heartedness to what she wore…

God, he might be certifiable already, thinking clothes were sure-hearted.

He completed necessary business at the bank, his one legitimate errand. Then he wandered into a gift shop with way too many cat statues for his taste. Wasted time in the drug store. If he went back to the dress shop now and happened to catch K.D. trying on a couple things—

“Hey, Eric. Eric Larkin.”

He turned toward the male voice behind him and smiled when he saw Kiernan McRae.

They’d met — and spent a memorable Christmas — as part of the group snowed in at a convenience store/bar. With Pauline’s beau, Gramps, as their far less than welcoming host.

Kiernan said he’d come to Billings to pick up a computer part. He hefted the laptop bag on his shoulder. “To make sure it worked, rather than ordering, waiting, trying, and needing to start all over if it didn’t do the job.”

Eric said he was in Billings while a friend shopped.

The younger man’s eyes widened slightly.

Possibly at the name of the shop. But Eric wondered if he’d heard rumors and which ones if he had.

Kiernan was part of the Slash-C Ranch crowd, which centered around the Currick family and friends.

Eric knew Dave Currick through a lawyers group even before the snowbound Christmas that included Kiernan.

Plenty of the Slash-C folks were good friends with the Far Hills Ranch folks, as well as having connections in Bardville.

But Eric doubted any of them would have talked about his and K.D. ’s undercover effort.

“You’ve time to kill, then. I hear this bakery—” Kiernan gestured two shop doors from where they stood. “—has fine coffee.”

“I do have time to kill and coffee sounds great.”

As they chatted about the strange menus they’d resorted to during their snowbound Christmas, they supplemented the coffee with a fresh piece of pie each — apple for Kiernan, peach for Eric. Eric also bought a bag of cookies.

The woman behind the counter sent them to one of the small tables with a mini-pot of coffee.

They’d caught up on the people they knew in common when Kiernan refilled their cups, emptying the pot. “When we talked in the attic of Gramps’ store at Christmas…”

The younger man’s words slowed to a stop. And here Eric had always heard the Irish were great talkers.

Silence was fine. It was the uncomfortable feeling that Kiernan had something to say, something trying to get out, that Eric didn’t like.

“Yeah,” he offered in the mildest of invitations to continue.

“You said you’d had a breakup. A divorce.”

“Yeah.”

“Suppose the kick in the teeth is even harder when you’ve been married.”

He remembered Kiernan saying he, too, had a bad breakup.

“Don’t know if the feeling in your gut’s any different or worse with a divorce,” he said. “Involves a lot more lawyers, forms, and regulations, that’s for sure.”

Kiernan huh’d in empathy. “Glad to miss that.”

His expression softened and Eric figured Kiernan was thinking of Bexley Farber and that they’d never face a divorce.

Eric’s mouth lifted. Hilary had done a number on him, but he wasn’t cynic enough to think Kiernan didn’t have a good shot with his Bexley.

Kiernan still stared out the window when he broke the silence abruptly. “You made a play for Bexley.”

Eric turned to the profile of the younger man. “I didn’t.”

Kiernan faced him. “I don’t hold it against you. I surely can see why any man would. And I might need to thank you.” In response to Eric’s raised eyebrows, he added, “How I felt about the idea of you and Bexley … It started me seeing straight.”

Eric smiled back at him. “Glad to be of service.”

Kiernan’s expression turned more serious. “I hear your ex is visiting. There seems some confusion about the exact situation with the two of you…”

He left the blank for Eric to fill in details. He said only, “Confusing to me, too.”

“Ah. Well … If there’s ever anything I can do that might help…”

Eric thanked the other man as they shook hands. Maybe he should dig more to find out what rumors circulated, but he didn’t want to lie to Kiernan, so he let it rest.

Still gripping his hand, Kiernan said, “I mean it, Eric. I owe you.”