A woman just came in.
And good God damn, if she isn’t the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
She’s in a light-blue puffy down jacket, but even with that on, I can make out a slender figure. She has perfect blond hair that hangs past her shoulders, and her skin has a light-olive tone to it. Her lips are a gorgeous shade of dark pink, and a light blush graces her cheeks—probably from the cold. Even from the distance between my shop’s entrance and the cashier counter where I’m currently standing, I can see that her eyes match her jacket’s icy shade of blue. The same color as Lake Michigan when it freezes over. A few snowflakes rest on her gorgeous long lashes.
I see hot women all the time. The club has them by the dozen. But not one of them can match the vision that just entered my shop.
I clear my throat. “Hi. Can I help you?”
She looks up at me, and her eyes widen. “Y-Yes. I happened to be wandering by. Took a different path home from work. I saw your shop, and I…”
She pouts her lips, which drives me crazy. Something stirs in me that I haven’t felt since…
Well, let’s just say it’s been a while.
“Are you looking for a gift for someone?”
She scratches the side of her head. “No. It’s silly, to be honest. I was just…” She chuckles nervously. “I saw the sign, and I was wondering what exactly a haberdashery is.”
I laugh. “You’re joking.”
She frowns. “I wish I were. You must take me for a dummy.”
I’m just realizing that she has a British accent, in a light honeyed tone. She could broadcast for the BBC. It’s that clear and articulate. God, as if I weren’t already attracted as hell to her…
I shake my head. “Not at all. It’s not like it’s the most conventional word.” I gesture to the shelves and displays around me. “Haberdasheryis basically just a fancy word for a men’s clothing store. We sell suits and jackets here, mostly, but also lots of accessories. Ties, cuff links, watches, even hats.”
She drops her jaw. “Hats? Like top hats?”
I smirk. “Mostly fedoras and bowlers, but we do have a small selection of top hats, too.”
She pouts her lips again—God, I love it—and looks around the shop. “I don’t think I’ve seen a man wearing a hat—besides a Cubs cap—since I got to Chicago.”
I shrug and lean toward her from behind the counter. “Well, you’ve just met one.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You?”
I reach under the counter and grab a dark-gray fedora. “This is the one I’m wearing today. Never go outside without it.”
She frowns. “You’re not one of those fedora-wearing, terminally online incels, are you?”
I let out a loud laugh at that. “If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me that, I’d have a good seventy-five cents.”
She giggles. It’s bright and airy, almost like birdsong.
I attempt to stay nonchalant. “The difference between those kinds of guys and me is that when I wear a men’s hat outside, I treat it as an extension of me, not some kind of decoration or costume. I wear the hat. The hat doesn’t wear me.”
She narrows her eyes. Can’t blame her. What I just said sounds like some kind of fortune-cookie nonsense.
I chuckle. “I guess that was a weird thing to say.”
She cocks her head and rakes her gaze up and down my body. “Not a weird thing to say at all. WhatIsaid was weird.” Her cheeks flush. “Obviously you’re not a guy like that. I mean, look at how?—”
She shuts her mouth. But I think she was about to pay me a compliment on my appearance.
I bow my head slightly. “You’re very kind, Miss…”
“Alissa. Alissa Maravilla.”
