Page 18 of The Thief
She went timid, taking a step back and curling into her mum, clinging to her leg as she whispered, “I don’t dance with boys.”
I heard her mum chuckle, saw her pat her daughter’s head in praise, and I leaned forward a little and whispered, “That’s a good plan. Stay that way until you’re at least thirty.”
“Boys are stinky,” she muttered, trying to bury her face into her mum’s side to hide from me.
“So I’ve heard,” I replied, and my eyes went from the little angel who was now giggling behind her mum’s skirt as she blushed, to her mum, with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen in my life.
Just like her little girl, she had blonde curls falling over her shoulders, a face like a fucking angel, and when she spoke, saying, “I’m so sorry. We didn’t mean to bother you,” I found myself stumbling over my words, telling her, “It’s okay. Cute blonde girls can bother me any time.”
Then I cringed, imagining how that sounded out loud. Shit, I could be a dumbass sometimes.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, backtracking. “I didn’t mean that to sound as creepy as it did.” And I turned away, trying not to let them see my embarrassment.
“Don’t apologise. It’s fine,” the mum said; then I felt a little finger poking the back of my leg.
I peered over my shoulder again, down to where the little girl stood looking up at me with those crystal blue eyes. “What happened to your eyebrow?” she asked, pointing up at my left eye.
“Ava!” the mum snapped, her face growing red and her eyeswide. “I’m so sorry. Sometimes, she has no filter.” She gave me an apologetic smile then darted a fiery glare at her daughter, who just ignored her.
“It’s okay. You can ask me anything,” I said to put the mum’s mind at rest. I was quite enjoying our exchange. It certainly helped to take my mind off the boredom of waiting in line. “I shaved a little bit of my brow. I thought it looked cool. Does it?”
“No. It looks weird,” the little princess replied, and I had to laugh. This girl was turning today’s dreary mood on its head, and I was here for it.
“Next time, I’m leaving you with Grandma,” her mum said sternly, but the little girl just cheered, two cute little dimples appearing on her rosy cheeks. That was the weakest punishment ever, and from the way her mum rolled her eyes, she knew it too.
“Don’t ever apologise for telling the truth,” I told her. “I think it looks weird too.” I gave the little girl a wink that made her blush again. “Now you’ve told me, I’ll start to grow it out. Just for you.”
“Mummy gets her eyebrows done by Trisha in town,” the angel went on. This time, her mum cracked a smile and shook her head, and I felt a flutter in my stomach. Her mum had dimples too.
Fucking dimples.
They were my biggest weakness.
Where had these two come from?
I really hoped the dad wasn’t about to walk through the door and try to kick my ass for talking to his girls. I’d hate to make him look like a dick in front of everyone.
I stared a little longer at the mum as she whispered to her daughter, “I don’t think the man wants to go to Trisha. I think heprobably has his own stylist.” And something familiar flickered in me. I didn’t know what it was, but it was something.
Did I know her?
Had she been to the club?
“Have we met before?” I cocked my head, studying her face, finding myself getting lost in those blue eyes all over again.
“I don’t think so,” she shot back, but her cheeks were growing redder as she avoided looking me directly in the eyes.
“Her name’s Jess,” the little girl piped up. “And I’m Ava,” she added, shuffling her foot on the floor and biting her lip.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ava,” I replied, holding my hand out for her to shake. “I’m Tyler.”
She giggled, stepped away from my outstretched arm, and shook her head, those blonde ringlets twirling as she danced away from me.
I turned my handshake into a high-five, but she left me hanging. I’d expected nothing less, but I lifted my hand up and said dejectedly, “She pied me.” Painting a despondent look on my face, then I sighed dramatically, “How am I ever gonna come back from that?”
Ava started to shuffle nervously. “I don’t have any pie,” she said, glancing up at her mum with a puzzled look.
“He meant you didn’t shake his hand or do a high-five and he feels sad,” her mum whispered down to her.
