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children, all of whom would attend a private Catholic school. Grammy would kiss her forehead and tell her to follow her heart.
    There was a reason Kaitlyn had always preferred Grammy.
    Kaitlyn shook off the thoughts.
    “There’s the smile I’m starting to love,” he said.
    They walked back through the town until one store caught her eye. Kaitlyn stopped and stared in the window.
    Art supplies.
    “Want to go in? Do you draw? Paint?”
    She still stood on the sidewalk, her hand in his, looking at the easel in the window, the paints, the brushes, the canvass, the paper.
    “I used to. My mother loved art.”
    He tugged on her hand, pulling her inside.
    “What do you want to get?”
    She smiled and shook her head. “I should have gone back to the cabin and grabbed my purse. I’ll just look today.”
    He grunted or something. She had no idea what it meant.
    “Do you draw? Sketch? Paint? What?”
    She walked to an aisle and picked up a sketch pad, flipping through it, feeling the urge to pick up a pencil, charcoal, or even a crayon and just . . . draw.
    “Once upon a time, I did them all. Tried sculpting. My father was a doctor, but he liked music and art. My mother taught art at Columbia.” She put the pad back and picked up a set of drawing pencils. “I really wish I’d brought my purse.” Then she shrugged. “Oh, well, tomorrow’s another day. I can ride the bike down in the morning—”
    “Or you could just get what you need now,” he told her, twirling a long-handled brush.
    She jerked it out of his hand, replacing it in the bin. “Stealing is a sin.”
    “As are many other things, but I wasn’t talking about stealing,” he said, picking up a set of brushes and watercolors. He wiggled them at her. “You like watercolors?”
    “Why?”
    “Yes or no, Kaitie.”
    “Why, Jock?”
    “Yes or no?” He grabbed another pad and the set of drawing pencils.
    “Yes.”
    “Good.” He walked to the counter and put the supplies on it. “You have any totes or bags or whatever to put all this in?”
    The young man behind the counter grinned. “We do, yes. They come in blue or white.”
    Jock looked at her with a raise of brows.
    “You are not getting me those.” She put her hands on her hips.
    He smiled, the smile really, really sexy. His dark black hair was windblown and a bit shaggy. That strong jaw just did something to her insides. Damned sexy man.
    She sighed.
    “Isn’t she cute when she’s bossy?” Jock asked the kid.
    “Jock, I’m serious.”
    “Kaitie lass, so am I.” He crossed his arms. “Which of us is going to win?”
    “Me. I can come get these tomorrow, with my own money.”
    He looked at the kid, then back at her. “But he’s got a job to do and he wants a sale, so he’ll sell these to me. I’ll give them to you. What you do with them after is up to you.”
    She looked at the kid. “Can I return them?”
    “God, you’re stubborn,” Jock said. Then to the clerk he said, “She’s cute, if aggravating, when she’s stubborn, too.”
    She started to say something, but Jock held up his hand. “I get you are an independent woman, admire you for it even, but I’m getting you these art supplies.”
    Kaitlyn glared at him, then grinned. “Are we arguing?”
    Jock leaned against the counter and looked again to the clerk. “You are witnessing our first disagreement. I’ve no doubt we’ll kiss and make up.”
    “Jock Kinncaid!”
    The young man behind the counter laughed, Jock grinned, and Kaitlyn couldn’t help but smile.
    “Hardheaded man.”
    But she wouldn’t lie to herself. He’d bought her art supplies. He knew she wanted them, that they were important to her, or maybe he didn’t know the latter, but he’d just gotten them. Part of her was irritated as hell that he just took over like that. She was tired of letting a male run her life. Yet, she was also honest enough to know Jock’s way of doing things wasn’t because he was trying to look better, or wanted anything