A Daddy for Jacoby - By Christyne Butler Page 0,39
off her face, continued. “We don’t think you’re a proper guardian for that young boy.”
Justin was dumbfounded. “Is that right?”
“That’s right.” The man beside her spoke up, the Stetson pulled low over his eyes making it impossible to see his face. “Believe me, child services is watching you. You’re too much like your old man and your brother to be any good for that kid. The last thing we need is someone raising another Dillon to cause nothing but trouble.”
“And just because your sister managed to hook up with the good sheriff doesn’t mean you’ve earned the right to be here.” The woman tugged on the man’s arm. “We don’t want your kind in our town. Come on, Harold. Let’s go.”
Shock turned to anger, rushing to life in a black fury that boiled in his veins. A veiled voice of caution struggled to overcome his rage. When it reached him it sounded sweet and soothing.
It sounded like Gina.
He pressed his boots to the concrete, successfully fighting the urge to race after the couple and show them just what he thought of their advice. Intense gratitude filled him that the rolled-up windows kept Jacoby from hearing the couple’s words as Justin watched the two of them walk away.
It wasn’t until they disappeared into the darkness that he realized his hands were clenched in tight fists. He shook them loose, took a deep breath and tried to put their words out of his head as he climbed into the truck. But deep inside, he knew what they’d said had been the truth.
Chapter Nine
“Gina, please, we need you! You have to help us!”
Trying to ignore her sister’s whining was like trying to ignore fingernails being dragged across a chalkboard.
Impossible.
“Look, I agreed to come with you and Mom to help pick out a dress.” Gina leaned her head back, raising her voice to be heard over the dressing room door. “Which you waited until the last possible minute to shop for, I might add. But I am not, repeat, not interested in playing chaperone.”
“But this isn’t just any dance. It’s the spring formal, the last dance we seniors have before graduation. If we don’t get enough chaperones, the school might cancel it.” Giselle’s muffled reply came through the door. “We’re celebrating the founding of the high school back in the fifties. The whole theme is based on that decade.”
This is why they were spending Saturday night sifting through racks of dresses, both authentic and reproductions, in Cheyenne’s finest vintage clothing store.
“Fine, it’s a big deal,” Gina conceded, “but that doesn’t mean I’m going to—”
The chime from her cell phone announced an incoming text message, cutting her off. She dug into her pocket, admonishing her heart for the now-familiar quickening that had become common over the last week.
It wasn’t Justin. She hadn’t even looked yet, but she knew it wasn’t him. Not hard to come to that conclusion as she’d hardly spoken to the man since Monday night in the library parking lot. The few times she’d seen him at work and offered a hello resulted in a mumbled reply and nothing more. She’d seen Jacoby during story hour at the library, but it had been Racy who had brought him both times.
Friends? Yeah, right. Justin was plainly not interested in a friendship, much less anything else, with her. She flipped open her phone and read the message.
Don’t be a nudge and leave us with only old people as guards. Come to the dance.
Garrett.
Giselle’s twin obviously wasn’t planning on majoring in English at Duke University in the fall.
“Stop trying to double-team me,” she said to Giselle as she typed the same words to her brother. “I’m not interested.”
“But you’d have a good time.” Giselle cracked open the dressing room door and peeked out. “And if anyone needs a good time, it’s you.”
Gina twisted in her chair to look at her sister. “What does that mean?”
“You’ve been acting like a slug ever since you got back from your trip. Other than being kid happy over reading Dr. Seuss to a bunch of rug rats, that is.”
“Hey!”
“Giselle, leave your sister alone.” Sandy Steele came back into the changing area, her arms loaded down with dresses in a rainbow of pastel colors. “If she doesn’t want to go, I’m sure she has a good reason.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Gina’s eye caught the glittering black at the bottom of the pile.
“Of course, you never did attend a formal dance of your own.” Sandy added the dresses to a holding rack, except