Page 8 of Blue

“Have a great day.” Her aunt turned and marched out.

Offering the very confused Gizmo mumbled apologies, she followed behind Aunt Elaine. Oh, this day had gotten weird far too quickly.

Backing her way out of the shop, she slammed into something. Far too soft to be a wall or a door. She turned, the apology flying from her face before she looked up and recognized the man from the thrift store.

Heat spread up her chest and blossomed on her face. Again. Two times she’d collided with this guy. Where was her head?

“So we meet again.” He grinned confidently.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Again, it was my pleasure. I don’t usually have women throwing themselves at me like this.”

Blue covered her face. Could this get any worse?

“I’m sorry.” The only words her brain could formulate.

“Really?” he said as the warmth of his hand met her shoulder.

Blue’s hands fell away as her gaze snapped to his hand.

People didn’t touch her. They didn’t flirt with her like that. She was Mooky’s.

Not anymore.She reminded herself.

Forcing a smile, she met his gaze.

Now what?She hadn’t done this in what felt like forever.

“I’m Dylan,” he introduced himself.

She swallowed hard. This shouldn’t feel wrong. She was a free woman and could talk to any guy she wanted. Hell, she could flirt back if she wanted.

Briefly, she glanced past him and found her aunt a few paces away, watching with interest. Aunt Elaine held up her thumb as though questioning if Blue was okay. Giving her a quick nod, Blue took a deep breath.

She was fine. This was fine.

Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she gave him a once over this time. Long legs with a slight bow in them. Tightish jeans and a button-down shirt tucked into them. Not the type she usually went for. This guy was far too clean cut, but maybe she was due for a change. He wasn’t hard on the eyes.

When she met his gaze again, she dipped her chin.

“Blue.” She held out her hand.

He chuckled. “That’s an interesting name.” He took her offering and gave it a loose and quick shake.

What kind of handshake was that? How could he tattoo with such a floppy wrist? This guy was such a joke. What was she even doing there?

She lifted her shoulder. “A nickname.”

“I guess with the hair, it makes sense,” he said, gesturing to her blue and green locks.

Self-consciously, she tucked stray strands behind her ear. She could do this. Shoving the awkward feeling down, she forced a friendly smile.

“I wonder which came first,” he returned her grin.

Chuckling nervously, Blue glanced around. Again meeting her aunt’s gaze. “The hair.”

“Ah, so yes. It makes sense.” He nodded and rocked back on his heels.

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