Page 13 of Heart Over Heels

“I get it,” I replied. “I’m waiting too.” I nodded toward where Oz’s head bobbed above the shelves like a happy little cloud.

When the girl spotted him, she squinted slightly. “Is he your brother?”

“Kind of.” A smile tugged at my lips. “We’re very close.”

Her gaze shifted back to me, and her brows drew together in scrutiny. “You don’t look alike,” she said.

“Not all families match,” I told her. “Sometimes people just… stick.”

She considered that, then gave a solemn nod.

“You’re pretty,” she said.

I blinked, caught off guard, but not by her words.

I heard that sort of thing all the time. For most of the men I slept with, flattery was foreplay. They liked to think they could charm me into bed, or that I was there for something more than a tip.

Pretty. Gorgeous. Stunning. The compliments blurred together, usually sweetened with a pet name and served with expectation.

But this was different. Honest. Innocent.

“Thanks,” I said, my smile tipping crooked. “So are you.”

I paused for half a second then thrust out my hand. “I’m Darby. What’s your name?”

Before she could answer, a sharp voice shattered the moment.

“Molly!”

The girl jumped, and we both turned to see her mother storming toward us, dragging the little boy by one wrist. Her phone was clutched in her other hand, screen still lit. The boy stumbled to keep up, his glasses askew.

“I told you to stay with us,” she snapped, not loud enough to cause a scene, but biting all the same. She reached out and grabbed the girl’s arm.

“I was just…” the girl—Molly—began, but the mother silenced her with a scowl.

“You donotwander off. Do you understand me?”

Molly nodded, sheepish. Her brother stayed tucked against their mother’s side, studying the action figure he clutched.

When the woman looked at me, her irritation melted away. Her eyes widened as she took in the horns, the tail, the not-humanness of me.

My hand was still extended, forgotten in the moment. I jerked it back, and she startled as if I’d raised it to strike.

She shoved Molly behind her, then swept a protective arm across both children. The boy gave a confused squawk as he was herded backward, nearly dropping his toy in the process.

“Put that down,” the mother told him. All the color had left her face. “We’re leaving.”

“But Mom…” His protest came soft, wounded.

It was his birthday.

“I said put it down,” the woman repeated, gaze pinning me like an arrow through my chest. “We’ll come back another time.”

Tears welled in the boy’s eyes as he clutched the action figure with both hands, reluctant to release it.

“Now,” she commanded. Her voice made the decision for him. He looked down at the box and slowly placed it on the nearest shelf.

Then she gathered both children and steered them away, making a point of positioning herself between them and me.