Those light brown eyes seemed to grow larger as he spoke. Nesryn would turn to look in the direction the Shelby convertible was once visible from. With the thick of the dust cloud not the barest speck of paint was visible. She couldn’t imagine such a thing and yet it was happening right before her very eyes.
“Gosh,” she breathed. Her head shook and then her gaze diverted back to the man with the accent. “I’m so sorry.” The apology sounded lame but he seemed so sad. She probably would’ve felt that way, too, had the roles been reversed. Her own car would also be coated in those tiny granules.
But the mustard car didn’t matter as much in the grand scheme as a nice sports car.
Making herself smile a bit, Nesryn wandered over to the man. Along the way she would pause long enough to help a customer right an upset dish or napkin holder, picking up anything that may have fallen in the shuffle, before finally getting to her destination. “Can I get you something?” She knew it wouldn’t help, and she half expected some snarky comment in reply.