Can't Fight It - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,29
in my work throughout the next few days, even though I can hear Colton and Milo move around on the other side of the wall. The rest of his furniture was delivered Monday, and he stayed home that morning to oversee the job. His place is now equipped with a complete living room, kitchen, and bedroom furniture, as well as a few more things for Milo. This place is really starting to look like a home.
Even though we’re two separate homes.
The temperatures are starting to dip, and now I see the disadvantage of moving to the Midwest. Southern California left my skin tanned and thin to the elements, not really prepared for what November in Missouri brings.
First stop today: the strip mall for some warmer clothes.
I hop into my car, noting Colton is already gone for the day. He usually takes off around seven, dropping Milo off at Gabby’s sister’s house before heading to work. I’ve heard a lot about the gym in the last week, especially from Gabby. She talked to her boss, Harrison, who’s married to her sister, Gwen, and he’s agreed to update the website. I sent him a mock-up of a new site yesterday but haven’t heard back yet. The wait is killing me.
The first place I stop is a boutique for women. The lady behind the counter greets me the second I walk through the door, asking if she can be of any assistance. “I’m just looking,” I tell her as I glance around the store.
I’m not really a big fan of shopping. I never have been one of those girls who likes to browse and try on everything and anything. I’m more practical. Come in, get what you need, and get out before the credit card starts to smoke. Fortunately, I don’t need much today. A few sweaters to go with my leggings and jeans, a coat and gloves, and maybe a pair of warmer boots since my ballet flats probably aren’t going to cut it in the Missouri winter.
I head over to a display of sweaters and check the price. They’re a little higher than I’d like to spend, but this is a small, locally owned boutique. I decide I can spend a little extra on a sweater here and find one in a soft blue and gray. The material is thick, promising to keep me toasty this winter, so I find my size and decide to buy it. I glance around a little more, finding all sorts of cute items that would look great paired with skinny jeans or leggings. I promise myself I’ll come back when the budget allows a little more wiggle room for clothing expenses. Right now, I need to stick to the basics until another job or two comes my way.
As I head to the register, I come across a display of gloves and scarves. My eyes immediately fall on a set of black and gray mittens, hat, and scarf. A smile falls on my lips as I think about my grandma and all the times I found her knitting or crocheting. Of course, when I was younger, I didn’t find it cool to wear a handmade hat or scarf, but now? I’d give anything to have something handmade with her love in every stitch.
“Those are made by Estelle Brown. She spends all of her time knitting those items and even infant hats that she donates to the local hospital maternity ward,” the lady states as I gaze at the big display of warmth.
When I spy the price tag, I gasp. “These are really underpriced,” I tell her, shocked by the low number on the tag.
The lady laughs. “Tell me about it. I’ve tried to get her to raise her prices, but she refuses. Estelle says everyone who needs them shouldn’t have to pay an arm and a leg to get them. She doesn’t charge for her time to make them. That covers the material and what little markup we have to sell them on her behalf.”
Another smile spreads across my lips as I add the hat, gloves, and scarf set to my small stack of purchases, as well as a second pair of red and navy gloves. Placing my items on the counter, I grab my wallet and pull out some cash. I don’t use my debit card unless I have to. I’ve found that having a set amount of cash is a great way to keep me on task and on budget.
“Forty-five sixteen,” she says as