A man with dark-brown hair picked them up off the ground and handed them to her. “Are you planning to be a fairy for Halloween? Because you look more like an angel type of person than a fairy.”
Does he mean that as a pickup line? Because if he does, it’s pretty sad.
She wrinkled her nose. “What makes you say that?”
He nodded toward her outfit. “The hair and the white dress you have on.”
She ran her hands over the light cotton fabric of her dress. “I suppose you have a point.”
Her attention traveled back to the man. He wore an untucked green plaid shirt and a pair of well-worn dark-wash jeans. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, teasing a hint of a tattoo on his forearm. Her gaze shifted back to his face, where the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow suggested he hadn’t bothered shaving for the day. Yet, it was his eyes that captivated her the most. They were a rich hazel color with flecks of green and brown, accentuated by the green tones of his shirt.
“And what are you planning to be?” she countered.
“I’m not sure yet. I was Dr. Henry Jones last year, but this year, who knows.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll change it up a bit.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Isn’t that Indiana Jones’s real name?”
“Yes,” he said. “If you wanted to get technical, it’s Dr. Henry Walton Jones Jr.”
Gemma shook her head. “I’ll never get over the fact that Indiana was the name of his dog.”
“You’re impressing me.” The man leaned his elbows against his shopping trolley, packed full to the brim with Halloween decor, appraising her. “Veryfew people happen to know that.”
“My mum and dad are big fans of all the Indy films.” Gemma shrugged. “What about you?”
“Of course I’m a fan. Picked that up from my parents too. Who wouldn’t be? He’s the type of hero who doesn’t need superpowers to save the world. All he needs is logic and a bullwhip.”
She giggled and replaced the wings on the shelf. “Well, if it were up to me, I think you should be Dr. Jones again for Halloween.”
“You may have just convinced me,” he mused, stroking his chin. “The only problem is, I agreed to let my kids decide. Otherwise, I’d commit to it on the spot.”
He has kids? What a shame. Yet another bloke who’s off the market.
Her face fell. “Oh.”
“Gemma, you have to come and see the—oh, um?.?.?. hi.” Frankie stopped short. She glanced at the man and then back to her. “I, er?.?.?. didn’t mean to interrupt you two.”
“It’s fine; we were just discussing fairy wings.” Her cheeks warmed and she dry swallowed. “I’ll remember to pick up the ones by Glamour and Co. if I decide I need a pair. Thanks for the tip.”
“You’re welcome, Gemma.”
“Er, thanks,” she stuttered again.
“You can call me Henry.” He winked. “I better get going myself.” Whistling theIndiana Jonestheme song to himself, he pushed the trolley up the aisle, disappearing around the corner.
“Henry. Is that your real name? Or is it an alias?” Gemma whispered to herself.
“Way to go, Gem. He’s cute. Did you get his number?”
Gemma threw her head back. “He has kids.”
“So? Maybe he’s a single dad. I didn’t see a ring on his ringer.”
“Frankie,” she whined. “Not helping. You sound like your dad.”
Some men don’t wear rings on their fingers. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m leaving town soon.
Spinning around, she changed the subject. “What did you want me to see?”
