You're the One (7 page)

Dee pushed the
bag aside. “What did dumb arse do now?”

“As if you
don’t know.”

Leaning her
forearms on the counter, Dee looked up at Del. “Ah, the great
window locks saga.”

“Ryder came
storming over to my house demanding to look at the window locks.”
Still annoyed, Del drummed her fingers on the counter top. “I told
him to jump in the lake.”

“That didn’t
go too well, did it?”

“Can you
believe that he just went right past me and proceeded to check
my
windows?”

“No,” Dee
drawled. “Really?”

“Then he
proceeded to tear strips off me.
Me!
I mean, what the hell,
Dee? It’s
my
house!”

“Tsk tsk
tsk.”

Del’s eyes
narrowed. “He informed me that today he was going to fit new locks
onto every window.”

“Well, that
inconsiderate jerk.”

“You need to
sort him out.”

“That Ryder,
such a bad person. Fancy daring to replace your locks.”

“If I want it,
I’ll ask for it.”

“Honestly, he
has no compassion.”

“You keep that
crap up, Dee Miller, and I will take you down.”

Dee looked her
up and down. “You and what army?”

“Don’t push it
this morning.” Del scowled. “It’s about time these men started to
realise that I don’t have to take this over-bearing, protective
shit from them.”

Dee angled her
head, studying her intently.

“You know,
it’s my life, my house. I can replace those locks when I’m damned
good and ready.” Del glared out the window.

“So what are
you going to do about it?” Dee asked. “You know Ryder won’t back
down. Those locks are going in.”

Yeah, those
damned locks would be sitting there on her windows, all shiny and
new and secure. Shiny and new and an expense that right now, while
she could afford it at a pinch, she hadn’t planned on just yet. If
ever. Damn it.
Damn it
.

Del rubbed her
brow.

Dee
straightened, concern flickering across her pretty face. “Del? Is
everything all right?”

“No. I’m
pissed off.”

“Cripes, it’s
just some locks. To be fair, the ones you have are buggered. You
were supposed to have them changed when you first bought that
decrepit old shack.”

“Yeah, well…”
Del moodily kicked the toe of her shoe against the bottom of the
counter.

It was true,
she had told the boys she’d have the locks changed. But her Dad
hadn’t gotten around to it, time had slipped past and she hadn’t
worried about it. Now and again she’d thought about it when she’d
flick the locks in place so that the windows were partially open to
allow fresh air in at night, but then something else always came up
and it just never got done.

Then Moz came
along. Came along, walked in with that take-charge attitude,
rattled her nerves, dampened her panties, and then dobbed her in to
the blokes. Yesterday Scott had called past on his way home to give
her a talking to, Ryder had torn a strip off her, Simon dared to
phone her and then Kirk had called in, looking all officious in his
uniform with the sergeant’s stripes. By then she’d been so pissed
off that she’d asked him if he wanted to arrest her then and there.
He’d just given her that quiet, calm look that had her feeling like
a heel.

That’s right.
She felt like a heel for being so mad, knew she was being bitchy,
but damn it, she had reasons. She hated her carefully constructed
budget to be altered, and she certainly didn’t want her friends to
know that or they’d want to do things for her. That was sweet,
sure, but not her way. She liked helping others, wasn’t so good at
accepting it herself.

“You’re taking
this a little personally, aren’t you?” Dee watched her closely.
“You know the blokes, this is just their way of showing they
care.”

“Yeah, I
know.” Exhaling loudly, Del shoved her hand through her hair. “I
know.”

“Normally
you’d come stomping in here, but…” Dee studied her even closer.
“This has really got you upset, hasn’t it?”

“Upset? No.
Shitty? Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s
my house.”

“Your friends,
most of whom you grew up with, are just looking out for you.” Dee
shook her head. “And everyone says I’m the bitch.”

Shame
trickling in, Del looked sideways at her. What Ryder had done
wasn’t any different to what he and Scott had done all their lives,
looking out for her and Dee. They’d been friends since they were
all crapping their nappies. When Simon and Kirk had come along,
their very natures had them falling into the same pattern of not
only friendship but caring as well. They were more like big
brothers than friends. Their over-protectiveness had annoyed her at
times, but not like this.

Not like this
because now it was a little different. Not in the friendship way,
that didn’t change, but her little secret budget made it harder at
times. Such as now.

“Is everything
okay, Del?”

She looked at
Dee. Concerned, her cousin was dissecting her with her all-seeing
eyes. She knew Del better than anyone, would be the one most likely
to find out. Not happening. Del had her pride.

And damn it,
she wasn’t bitch enough to take it out on her friends. Her problem,
she had to deal with it.

Straightening
her shoulders, she sighed. “I’m fine. You’re right, they’re only
helping as usual. Just, you know, Ryder can be such an arse when he
goes off.”

Dee didn’t
look mollified, her gaze still searching.

Oh boy, had to
stop that.

Leaning
forward, Del gestured to her.

Dee, curious,
leaned forward, although no one was in the newsagency to hear
them.

“Moz Baylon is
the cause of all this.”

“I heard about
that,” Dee said. “What’s going on with you and Moz?”

“What?”

“You and Moz.”
Dee poked her finger in Del’s shoulder. “How come you didn’t tell
me?”

“Tell you
what?”

“You and Moz
getting together.”

“
What?”
Del blinked. “We’re not together.”

“He was in
your bedroom.”

“He was in my
whole house!”

“Yeah, that’s
what I heard.”

“He came into
my house
uninvited
!”

Dee
smirked.

The truth hit
Del, her eyes narrowed. “You really are a bitch.”

“Baby, I own
that title.”

Shaking her
head, Del picked up her shoulder bag. “I better open up before the
horde knock down my door.”

Dee looked
past her to the quiet street. “Yep, can’t see through the
crowd.”

“See you at
lunchtime.”

Entering the
back of the clothes store, Del locked the security screen and
looked around. To the left was the room where new stores came in to
be sorted and priced before being put out for sale. On the right
was her small office complete with desk, computer and filing
cabinet. A spare chair sat next to the filing cabinet.

Slipping her
shoulder bag into the bottom drawer of the desk, she sat in the big
swivel chair she now owned along with the rest of the shop and took
a deep breath. She loved the shop. Loved
her
shop. She’d
worked in it alongside her parents since she was old enough to
learn how to hook clothes onto coat hangers. Most nights after
school she’d do her homework in the back of the shop at the same
desk she now sat at then helped in the shop, and as she got older
she’d work in the shop first then do her homework at home after
dinner.

Picking up a
pen, she twirled it between her fingers. Most school holidays she
worked in here, earning pocket money, learning the trade from her
parents. It was a natural step to work in the shop full time when
she left school, then gradually her parents retreated, first her
mother then her father, until she ran the shop alone. And she loved
it, choosing the clothes, ordering for people, measuring people,
ordering in special sizes and styles for those who wanted or needed
them. Keeping up with the fashions from the city while maintaining
the everyday clothes working country people of various trades
required. She had a specialized section for outdoor workers,
including reflective vests and pants, and eight months ago she’d
introduced more shoes. Boots, sandals, thongs, fancy shoes, every
day footwear, she kept a selection of all sizes and styles along
the side and back wall.

Thankfully her
father had extended the shop years before, he just hadn’t made good
use of the space. But now the store was hers, she made use of every
bit of space.

Mine
.
Del ran her fingertips along the smooth, worn wood of the old desk.
It was all hers. Every little bit. When her father had mentioned
wanting to retire, she’d jumped at the chance to buy it. He’d
wanted to give it to her, but Del wouldn’t have it, insisted on
buying it. Her parents were no fools. They knew she’d made it worth
more than they had so they, in turn, had insisted on setting the
price. It had been way less than it was worth, but when her father
had dragged out the books he’d kept for all those years and shown
her the increase in sales since she’d taken over and yes, that
they’d profited from, she hadn’t been able to argue the maths.
She’d bought the shop and it was all hers.

Tipping her
head back, she looked up at the ceiling. All hers. She’d used the
last of her savings to pay for it, it was hers lock, stock and
barrel. But she hadn’t counted on buying it right at that time, had
been caught off-guard by her parent’s decision. But it was
done.

She wanted it.
She owned it. She didn’t owe a bank anything for the store. But she
hadn’t been ready to buy it so soon after buying her house. The old
house that had been an almost giveaway price because it was so
dilapidated. It was more the land for which she was in hock.

The money
pit.

Sighing, Del
tapped the pen against the desk top. She’d planned on renovating
the old house with her savings, not using her savings to buy the
shop. She didn’t regret it, no, but now money was a little tight.
She’d managed to stock-pile some money for emergencies, but now she
was trying to rebuild her savings account to a decent level. She
was almost there, but not quite yet. Things like a new roof were
well out of reach for at least another six months, she’d been
relying on silicone for the holes, and new locks just hadn’t been
in the budget. It had taken months for her to save for the new
lino, and that she’d gotten cheap from a sale in Ellor’s Loop. Now
the locks.

“Argh!” She
threw the pen down. “Bloody Moz!” If it hadn’t been for Moz
sticking his handsome nose in, the boys wouldn’t have found out
about the locks and she wouldn’t have had to worry about it this
week or next week. Or the next month. Or two months.
Argh!!!

The phone
ringing dragged her from her once again rising annoyance. Sucking
in a deep breath as she picked it up, she managed to say
pleasantly, “Gully’s Fall Clothes Store.”

“Are you going
to open up this morning?”

“Don’t you
have a bookstore to open yourself, Jill?”

“I’ve been
open for half an hour already.”

Del grinned.
“So? I’m not in competition with you.”

“I’m standing
in my doorway watching a tourist peering in through your door. Your
closed door. While I’m watching, sweetie, that lady is looking at
her watch.”

Del glanced
her watch. Ten minutes past opening time. “Crap! Thanks!”

Practically
throwing the phone into the cradle, she ran out into the store,
unlocking and throwing the door open.

The woman in
question looked startled.

“Sorry.” Del
smiled. “Little late this morning.”

“Must be these
country times.” The woman smiled back. “Laid back style.”

“That’d be
it.” Del stood aside. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Just
browsing.”

And buying,
Del hoped. She had locks to pay for.

As luck would
have it, the woman found quite a few things she liked. God bless
holidays and the thirst for buying things from different places
that came with it, even if those same things could probably be
bought from where one lived.

Del was
perched on the high stool behind the counter flicking through a
fashion catalogue and making notes on a piece of paper when Ryder
walked into the shop.

“All done,” he
announced. “Locks in place, you’re all safe.”

Placing the
pen down, she looked at him.

Ryder held up
one hand. “Don’t start with me, Del.”

“I’m not.”

“You getting
pissy won’t work. It’s done.”

“I’m not. I
just want to thank you.”

That had his
eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “You what?”

“Thank
you.”

“You’re
thanking me?”

“I was. Right
now I’m thinking something else not very favourable.”

“That’d be
more like it.”

Reaching
across the counter, she punched his arm. “Don’t be an arse. I’m
trying to be nice.”

“You?” He
leaned his elbow on the counter. “I don’t believe it. Since when do
you thank me after I’ve reamed you?”

“I’m not
thanking you for that. For reaming me, you’re a jerk.”

“You deserved
it.”

“Just take the
thanks for putting in the locks, okay?”

He squinted at
her. “Seriously?”

Del
frowned.

Ryder grinned.
“Okay. No worries.”

“How much did
the locks cost?”

“Don’t worry
about it.”

“How
much?”

Ryder flapped
his hand. “We’ll sort it out later.”

“Jesus, Ryder,
where’s the receipt?”

“You’re touchy
this morning. Is it that time of the month?”

The man was a
dickhead sometimes, no doubt about it. Jumping down off the stool,
Del walked around the counter.