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“I’m sure it’ll slow down once winter starts and it’s too cold to do anything.”
“We’re going skiing!” Hunter shouts, causing Izzy to cover her ears.
“Maisie is a black diamond skier,” she says to me in explanation.
“Why would I have ever thought otherwise?” I sigh and pull out of the parking lot. “Hey, what do you say we go to Target? We’ll look for a magic kit for Hunter, and, Iz, you can pick out some new art supplies.”
“Look who’s trying too hard now.”
I narrow my eyes at Izzy’s comment.Touché, kid.
I’d be more annoyed with her than I am, but it’s hard when Isabella Landish is the carbon copy of her mother. I was once the moody, sarcastic one, and I didn’t have to move out of the only home I’d ever known.
I cut her some slack, as I always do.
I just hope she snaps out of it soon.
We head into Target, and like all trips to this store, we leave with more things than we planned to purchase. Izzy picked out a new sketchpad and colored pencils, plus these paint pens that I’d coerced her into trying. The only magic kit Hunter and I could find was a wooden set that cost more than I had hoped to spend but has enough tricks in there for us to come up with something exciting for his show. My side of the cart was packed with new body wash, a loofah, and shampoo. I even bought some new throw pillows for the living room, a blanket, and some fall decorations.
Due to recent shopping cart thefts in the area, our shopping center no longer allows you to take your cart farther than the storefront. Magnetic locks kick in when you enter the parking lot, so the kids and I load up our hands with bags holding our new purchases.
Hunter is taking his magic kit out of the sack because he insists on carrying it to the car when, out the corner of my eye, I see the one man I don’t want to see.
William Bronson.
He’s hard to miss. There aren’t many gloriously tall men like him walking around the Target shopping center these days. There aren’t any men like him walking around … anywhere. Even in October, he has golden skin. That, or he visits the tanning salon, which I highly doubt. If he did, I’d feel better. No one should glow this naturally.
“Let me help you with that,” he says as he approaches the cart and our full hands.
“We’re good. Thanks,” I say, not looking at him.
Izzy eyes Will curiously. “We don’t talk to strangers.”
I groan. “It’s okay. I know him. He’s a potential client of mine. He and his fiancée, Allison, are looking to get married sometime next year.”
“We’re not getting married next year,” Will says to Izzy.
“Or the year after. I have to work up the numbers. I’m sorry I haven’t given those to you yet.”
I’m grabbing the last of the bags when Will places a hand on mine.
“Let me help you. You have a ton of stuff.”
“It’s fine. We got them,” I proclaim as I make a show of grabbing the handles of the gray bags in the most haphazard way, struggling to get the one with the throw pillows out of the cart because it’s sandwiched next to another bag.
“Here,” Izzy says, extending her hand and giving a bag to Will. “You can carry this one.”
He smiles at Izzy and takes the offered bag. “Thanks. I’m William.”
One look at my daughter and the pink in her cheeks, and I can see the smolder has worked on her. Poor girl.
“I’m Isabella, and that’s Hunter.”
Hunter lifts his hand. “Hi.”
Will looks down at the box in Hunter’s arms. “Magic, huh?”
“I’m going to perform an entire act for the school talent show!”
