Kiss Me in the Summer - Barbara Dunlop Page 0,18

certain pride that made me think he was one of those descendants. “You too?”

He nodded. “I’m not sure how many greats, or how many times removed but yes, somewhere back in my lineage is Jacob Rutter.”

“Am I in the presence of local royalty?” I teased as we came to the top of the stairs and the second floor opened up in front of us. It wasn’t quite as crowded, but it still held a huge array of merchandise.

“You can refer to me as Sir Josh if you like,” Josh played along.

“A Knight of the Rutter Realm?”

“Sure. I could be a knight. I’ve ridden horses.”

“Can you ride one while wearing armor?”

“I don’t know why I would. Armor is ridiculously heavy.”

“Then I question your true ability to rescue a damsel in distress.” As I spoke, I took in the myriad of displays on the top floor. Shoes and purses were straight ahead, and jackets and outerwear were to our right, with pajamas and bedroom linens to the left. I could see housewares off in the distance.

“Horseshoe turn,” Josh said from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder to see his smile. “Cute.”

“Just staying in character.” He gently touched my shoulders and turned me to the right.

His hands were warm through my blazer. The feeling was odd, strangely comfortable. I wanted to lean back against him and increase the contact. I didn’t. But I had a fleeting fantasy of what might happen next: a kiss on my neck, his arms around my waist, me turning to meet him . . .

“Do you see?” he asked, removing his hand and killing the fantasy. He pointed across the store.

I could see a mannequin in a floral dress, tall racks of pants, and a display table holding red, green, and gold plaid shirts. “You don’t have to stick around.” I knew I was imposing on his time. “I can take it from here.”

He’d done his duty as a gentleman and a good Rutter’s Point host. It was clear the town had a thing about welcoming strangers. They must teach it in grade school or something.

“I don’t mind,” he said.

“You don’t mind browsing through the ladies’ clothing section?” As I asked, I found myself wondering what he usually did on a Friday night. A date?

“It’s my civic duty to make sure you get the right outfit,” he said as we started forward.

“You have a strong sense of civic duty.” Maybe he didn’t have a date. Maybe he didn’t have a girlfriend. He seemed like too much of a catch to be single.

“It’s a thing here,” he said.

“I’m figuring that out.”

“Do you object?”

I thought about it. “No. It’s nice. It’s not how we do it in Manhattan, exactly.”

He laughed at that, but it was good-natured.

I spotted the blue jeans section and headed that way. If he didn’t have a date or a girlfriend, I wasn’t going to turn down the help.

Josh followed, standing a few feet back and giving me room while I searched through a stack of jeans for a pair in my size. “So, what was the fallout?” he asked.

“Of . . .?” My mind bounced chronologically backward from dynamite, to horses, to chivalrous knights, and finally to civic hospitality.

“The video,” he said. “What was the fallout in your office? I read some of the comments. There were some strong opinions expressed by her followers.”

I looked back at him in mock horror. “You wandered into the comments section of Annalisa LeFroy’s social media feed? That was a risk.”

“I’m pretty tough. Did you get fired?”

“No.” I moved on to a stack of jeans in a different style.

“Really?” He sounded surprised.

“Do you think I should have been fired?”

Cecily had argued that firing me would be an overreaction. But she was biased in my favor. She liked me. Plus, I paid half the rent, so she’d be pulling for my continued paycheck.

“They were trending about two-to-one in favor of firing you, based on the comments I read.”

“On what grounds?” I asked. I didn’t want to read the comments myself, but I couldn’t help being a little bit curious.

“It varied. Some said dog-sitting wasn’t part of your job description.”

“It wasn’t. I mean, there was an ‘other related duties’ clause. But dog-sitting doesn’t fall into the general parameters of legal work.”

“You explained it better than the posters did.”

“I do have professional training.”

“Some said you should pay for the champagne and the catering.”

“You think?” I’d push back on that.

“I’m just quoting. The most hostile posters said you’d showed blatant disregard for the firm,