Page 31 of Keeping Kaitlyn

“She probably thinks you’re some rich tourist’s mistress, here to spend his money while he golfs and pretends to hunt buffalo,” Dakota tells me bluntly. “The room Went had me book you into is almost five grand a night. Trust me, the second she saw your room key, she started planning her trip to Jamacia.”

Five grand?

A night?

Went is spending five grand anight,just so I can spend even more of his money.

“I think I’m done,” I tell her with a decisive nod. “I’ve got everything?—”

“Bras.” Dakota rolls her eyes and holds up her index finger. “Underwear. Socks. Boots.”

“I have boots,” I say, scowling at her. I can’t argue with the rest of it. I literally left the only home I’ve ever known withnothing more than the clothes on my back and a backpack full of notebooks.

“Okay—a pair of boots that aren’t being held together by horse shit and hope,” Dakota fires back. Before I can get offended, she sighs. “Look, we have an hour before our spa appointment, so?—”

“Spa appointment?” No one ever said anything about aspa appointment.

Dakota narrows her dark brown gaze. “Weren’t you listening when I laid out your room amenities? Spa treatments are complimentary for all of our Mountain King guestsanda guest of their choosing. I booked the works for two, the second I hung up with Went.” When I start to protest, she shuts me down. “My brother is paying five grand a night for that room,Sierra.” She’s been ruthlessly pushing me to spend her brother’s money for nearly an hour now and she still hasn’t asked me my real name. “Not taking advantage of thefreespa treatments that come with it,and taking me with you,would be a travesty.” When it’s obvious I’m not completely sold, Dakota throws down her ace. “I’m the poor relation,” she tells me with a shrug. “I deserve compensation.”

I remember what Went told me about Damien and Dakota. That his father basically seduced their mother, a struggling sous chef, and no sooner did she marry him and get pregnant, he left her forhismother, the wealthy hotel heiress.

If I can relate to anything, it’s what it feels like to be discarded by your own father.

“Kait,” I tell her quietly, throwing a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure the saleswoman is still counting her money. “My name is Kait—Kaitlyn Barrett.”

As soon as I say my name, Dakota’s face goes slack before her slim, dark brows shoot up on her forehead so high, they nearly disappear into her hairline.

“You’re—” Her head jerks back on her neck when I nod, reaffirming what she just heard me say. Damien has obviously told her about me.

“Who’d you think I was?” Forgetting myself, I reach out and pick up the sleeve of a nearby blouse.

“Honestly…” Dakota gives me a shrug. “You could’ve been anyone. If the tabloids are any judge, my brother’s a bit of a whore.”

Oh.

Abbey failed to mention that.

“We’re just friends,” I tell her, reiterating what I overheard Went tell her on the phone, earlier. “I was in trouble so when Went left the ranch, he brought me with him.”

“He mentioned that.” Dakota narrows her eyes again. “What kind of trouble?”

“The kind I had to leave the valley to get away from,” I tell her, my tone making it clear I’m not going to elaborate. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Changing the subject, I drop the blouse sleeve and cock my head at the waiting saleswoman, across the store. “I still need to buy boots and underwear before our spa day starts, remember?”

Leaving Dakota behind, I start to walk toward the back of the store when something catches my eye. An ivory-lace sheath dress with a simple scoop neckline and straps so thin, I can hardly see them. The store’s stylist paired it on the mannequin with a pair of fancy red ropers and a red Stetson, cinching the waist in with a thin, silver leather belt that matches the hat’s band.

Catching up to me, Dakota bumps her shoulder against mine. “You want to try it on?”

When I nod, Dakota lifts her hand and signals the saleswoman who comes running.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she asks, on her approach. “We just got it in. The lace is handmade and imported from Ireland and the designer?—”

“We don’t care,” Dakota says before giving her a sweet smile. “We’ll see it in a size eight.”

The saleswoman bristles slightly before she remembers her commission and smiles. “Of course.” Lifting a manicured hand, she gestures toward the pair of dressing rooms next to the register. “If you’ll follow me.”

Letting her lead me to one of the rooms, I wait patiently for her to unlock it. “Size eight?” She asks, giving me a quick once over to confirm my size.

“Yes,” I tell her while I move into the opened room. “Thank you.” As soon as the door is shut I start to undress, pulling off my worn boots and setting them aside before shucking out of the same pair of jeans and oversized T-shirt I was wearing when I left my house to sneak up to see Went less than twenty-four hours ago. Thankfully I hadn’t decided to run away, right after I mucked out Two-tone’s stall. Remembering the straps, I make the last-minute decision to take off my bra before the saleswoman comes back to knock on the door. Opening the door, I stand behind it and peek my head around the edge of it to find her standing there with the dress I requested plus things I didn’t.

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