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Sydney pointed. “There’s a parking space.”

“I see it,” Adam said.

She’d come to the conclusion that grumpy was his default setting, so she didn’t take it personally. He might not even realize he was that way.

He parked, and they got out, both of them staring up at the sign. His brow furrowed. “Graveyard Goods Thrift Shop?”

She nodded. “And it’s around the corner from the Tombstone office, which is apparently the local paper. They really stuck with the theme, huh?”

“I’ll say.”

To be honest, she didn’t get the whole Halloween thing. Sure, it was cute and brought in a ton of tourists, but some people acted like it was real. Then again, there were people in this world who decorated their houses with Disney stuff, so to each their own.

They headed inside. She was surprised to see how large the place was. There were racks and racks of clothing, handbags, shoes, accessories, and all kinds of household goods.

Beside her, Adam groaned softly. She almost laughed. He couldn’t have been any more obvious that shopping wasn’t his thing.

She glanced around and found a row of mismatched chairs near the entrance. She gestured at them. “Why don’t you go sit while I do the hard part. If there’s anything worth trying on, I’ll come get you.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s what I’m here for, right?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, apparently, and made his way to the chairs. He picked the largest one, pulled out his phone, and sat.

She went to the counter. An older woman was working behind it, detangling a knot of chain necklaces. “Hi, there.”

The woman looked up, smiled and pulled off the readers she was wearing. “Hi. What can I help you with?”

“My, uh, friend is in need of a suit or at least a sport coat and trousers. The thing is, he’s got a very athletic shape. Muscular, so broad through the chest and shoulders, narrower through the waist, but his legs aren’t skinny.”

The woman nodded. “There’s a lot of that in this town. Everyone’s into fitness, I guess. I think you’ll find a few things on the racks in the men’s section, but they aren’t labeled in any special way, so you’ll just have to hunt. Sorry. That’s probably not much help, is it?”

“It helps some. Tells me it’s worth looking. And reminds me that I don’t know his measurements.”

The woman moved to the left, reached under the counter, and pulled out a cloth measuring tape. “Would that help?”

Sydney nodded as she grabbed it. “Yes, thank you. I’ll bring it right back.”

“Take your time.”

Sydney went over to Adam, who looked up when she was in front of him. “Don’t tell me you found something already?”

“No, but before I start looking, I really need to know what sizes I’m after.” She showed him the tape measure. “Do you know? Or should we find out?”

“Um … I wear a thirty-four in jeans.”

“Okay, that’s a start. What size suit coat?”

He seemed to think that over. “I have no idea.”

She wiggled her fingers at him. “Up. Good thing you wore a T-shirt. That won’t affect the measurement.”

He stood, putting them in direct proximity to each other. She quickly backed up. He’d practically blocked out the sun.

She cleared her throat softly. “Could you lift your arms? So I can put this around you?”

His arms went up, as did one side of his mouth.

Did he find this amusing? With the tape in one hand, she reached around him to grab the other end, which resulted in her cheek being pressed to his chest. He was warm and smelled nice. Some kind of woodsy soap.

She could have sworn he chuckled.

She quickly pulled the tape around him and held it in place against his hard chest. Hard was sort of an understatement. If she hadn’t known he was a living, breathing man, she might have guessed he was carved from warm marble. She swallowed. Focus . She stared at the tape. Could that be right?

“Something wrong?”

“Just out of curiosity, how much do you weigh? I realize that’s not the most polite thing to ask someone, but?—”

“Two seventy-five, last time I checked. Why?”

She exhaled. “I’ve never seen a man with a fifty-inch chest who didn’t have a waistline to match it. Your … physique is impressive.” More impressive this close up. And touching it. She dropped the tape, stepped back, and focused on rolling it up.

Thankfully, he sat back down. “Like I said, I work out.”

Since she couldn’t think of a response to that, she just nodded. She held up the tape without looking at him again. “I have to return this, then I’m going to start digging into those racks.”

“I’ll be here.” He went back to his phone but not before she’d caught sight of the sparkle in his eyes.

He was enjoying this. Not the shopping but her being flustered by his—his unnatural physique. How in creation did a man end up built like that?

She handed the tape measure back to the woman at the counter and went to the men’s section. There weren’t nearly as many racks of clothes as in the women’s and children’s areas, for which she was glad.

She looked at pants first. She skipped over the jeans and went straight to dress pants.

The store had size markers, so it wasn’t hard to find his waist size, but then she realized she didn’t know his inseam.

She was not going back to measure that. She’d just guess.

He was tall, considerably taller than her, so maybe six feet five inches?

What would that make his inseam? Somewhere in the range of thirty-four to thirty-six inches? She’d just have to estimate.

Three pairs of pants—gray gabardine, a soft navy twill and a pair of khakis—were draped over her arm when she moved on to sport coats.

These would be trickier. A jacket that would fit his chest would be enormous around the waist unless it had been either made or altered to fit a man of his build.

What were the odds of that? Slim, if she could even find a jacket that fit him. She should have asked the woman at the counter about alterations. There had to be someone in town who could do them, and for an upcharge, they might even do a rush job.

Sydney pulled out her phone and did a quick search. She found three people in town. Good enough. The search was on.

The jackets weren’t as organized as the pants, so she had to check the labels to be sure of the sizes.

In the end, she found two. One was a brown tweed that she didn’t think Adam would like.

The other was a muted navy-and-forest-green plaid.

Both seemed to have been tailored for a broad-chested, narrow-waisted man.

But the trying on would tell.

She turned to get Adam and nearly ran into him. “Oof.”

“Sorry. I was coming to see how things were going.”

More likely, he was getting bored. She knew how most men were when it came to shopping. She lifted her arms, the jackets draped over one, pants on the other. “I found some things.”

His brows bent. “Really?”

“Really.” She stuck her arms toward him. “Time for you to hit the dressing rooms.”

“Yeah, all right.” He took the clothes.

“That way.” She pointed at the changing rooms, doing her best not to laugh at his expression. He looked like a child who’d just been sent to his room without supper.

He trudged off.

Had he expected her not to find anything? He seemed disappointed that she’d had a modicum of success. Didn’t he need a suit? She meandered toward the dressing rooms and stood outside of the one he’d gone into, aware that only a thin curtain separated them.

“Adam?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m here if you want an opinion.”

“Okay.”

She rolled her lips in to keep from laughing. He sounded so … resigned. Poor man. Shopping probably was very hard for him with that body. She swallowed and wandered a few steps away to look at a rack of handbags.

He hadn’t offered any details about this meeting he had to attend, but she might suggest he consider a haircut and shave, too. A little cleaning up just to look his best.

The sound of the curtain being opened turned her around.

He stood there in the navy twill pants and plaid jacket. Even with his black T-shirt underneath, he looked very nice. Inexplicably, the clothes fit him.

She nodded before forming words. “That’s … not bad at all. Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s not a suit.”

“No, but you still look nice in it. Would it do for your meeting?”

He stepped back into the changing room to look at himself in the mirror. “Probably not fancy enough.”

“Oh.”

He buttoned the jacket and turned side to side as he appraised it. “I can’t believe this fits me. I might get it anyway. Not that I ever get dressed up like this, but it’s not often I find something off the rack.”

“I bet. It really does look nice on you.”

He made eye contact with her through the mirror. “Thanks.”

Then he pulled the curtain.