She blinked, but the child persisted. Part of her believed the girl was a fairy who would disappear the moment she turned away. Those iridescent blue eyes just one shade on the paint chip lighter than the man’s… Of course. Her heart sank. The little girl was his own. Obviously, Rebecca was his daughter, and that sour woman was his wife. They probably had three or four other children back home on the farm.

Behind Rebecca, the woman perched ramrod straight on the milk crate, almost daring Tessa to return. She surrendered the notion of retrieving her fries. And marrying the Amish dude. Easy come, easy go.

Laughing off a sigh, she set a course for veggies. What was she thinking? He was Amish. Even if he were single, she couldn’t just ask him out. But as she picked out the salad she promised herself for supper, she couldn’t chase away the memory of that real or imagined gaze over her body.

Her shopping bag bursting with produce, and her arms full of flower seedlings she intended to plant before leaving for New York, she pushed open the door and stepped into fresh air. Sunlight sliced through distant clouds, igniting raindrops on the buggy roofs and transforming them into bejeweled, horse-drawn carriages.

Suddenly, he appeared—striding around a buggy, bucket in hand.

Weak-kneed, she gawked. A man who could look that beautiful in a parking lot? He was too handsome to walk among mortals. He should be bronzed.

Glancing across parked cars, he met her gaze. One side of his mouth lifted into a half smile.

She flushed and smiled back. Through the glare from a dozen windshields, she studied his face, feeling tiny hairs rise on the back of her neck. Was he laughing at her? She squinted and caught a flash of derision in his look. Steeling her knees, she yanked down her sunglasses and pivoted toward the van. Sure, she’d been a bit awkward at his booth, but he had no right to laugh. A genuinely sincere guy unburdened with attitude, huh? Wishful thinking.

In a few quick paces, she reached the van. His gaze was steady on her. She could feel it through her shoulders like a heat lamp. Shifting the packages, she grabbed hold of the sliding door handle.

Just load your stuff and drive away like a normal person.

But she couldn’t resist. She darted another look.

Grinning even wider, he set down the bucket and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Not for nothing, in a manner that made his biceps bulge heart-stoppingly through damp shirt sleeves. She cast aside that swoony thought and mustered her outrage, jerking open the side door and dumping in her purchases.