Chapter 7

Marshall winced as they passed through the automatic doors of Walmart. Barely inside, and Elise was already drawing attention.

“Hello, welcome to Walmart,” a man greeted them.

Elise lifted her sunglasses and gaped at the elderly man in the signature blue vest.

“Oh my God, where were you the last time I came here? It’s just like that commercial.”

Thankfully, she kept her voice low, but that didn’t stop ten people from turning to stare, slack-jawed. Marshall pulled off his hat, scratched his head, and resisted the urge to make a swift exit. He plopped his cap back on and grabbed a shopping cart, determined to get this over with.

“Sorry about that, Fred,” Marshall muttered to the elderly man.

Fred waved with a smile.

Marshall and Elise locked eyes. Her expression remained aloof, but something in her green eyes made him pause. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear there was interest there. But he did know better—and he wasn’t falling for the tricks his body was playing on him.

Nothing good could come from getting involved with Elise, especially then that he had a son to look after.

Breaking eye contact, he pointed behind her. “Boys’ department. Right there.”

Elise held up a pair of luxury LED sneakers. “Where’s an eight-year-old boy going to wear fancy shoes like these on a farm?” Marshall asked, keeping his voice calm.

“Who cares? Even if he only wears them inside, they’re still a steal.”

Marshall shook his head. “Put them back.”

Rolling her eyes, Elise slapped the shoes onto the shelf, clearly disgruntled. It was the fourth pair he’d vetoed since they’d measured Justin’s feet.

Marshall picked up a pair of gym shoes and held them out to her. “What about these?”

“Perfect—if you have absolutely no sense of style,” Elise said, her face twisting in revulsion. “They’re white, clunky, and completely generic. Ugh.”

Justin, seemingly unfazed by their banter, was busy playing with a stuffed lion missing its mane. Elise found it baffling—here they were deciding his entire fashion future, and he didn’t seem to care.

“All right, so white and clunky is out,” Marshall conceded. “You pick something, then. But nothing with lights, okay?”

“He has no idea how adorable he is,” Elise thought, as she turned to browse the sneaker section. It was starting to annoy her that she found him attractive. Shopping should demand all her attention, yet she kept sneaking glances at him. Maybe it was his modesty, or the way he always kept his cool—steady as a rock.

Elise grabbed a blue-and-red pair off the rack. “These aren’t bad. A little too rubbery for my taste, and the stitching is uneven—but what can you expect for fifteen bucks?”

Marshall inspected the shoes. “These’ll do.”

Elise held them out to Justin. “What do you think, Justin? Like them?”

The boy’s eyes lit up. He swallowed hard. “How much are they?”

“Fifteen dollars.”

Justin’s shoulders sagged. “That’s too much. I don’t really need new shoes—these still fit.”

“And are practically falling apart,” Elise pointed out. “Plus, there’s a hole in the left one big enough to get condemned by the health department.”

Marshall’s expression darkened. His jaw clenched, though he kept his tone gentle. “I want to get you new shoes, Justin.” He crouched down to look his son in the eye. “I didn’t get to buy you shoes for eight whole years. I’ve got a lot of time to make up for. It would mean a lot to me if you let me buy these.”