The doors of the toy store opened automatically, and every conversation inside seemed to stop for half a second.
It wasn't because someone famous had walked in.
It wasn't because an announcement had been made.
It was because the biggest man most of the customers had ever seen had just entered the store.
He was enormous.
Nearly seven feet tall, with broad shoulders, muscular arms covered in faded tattoos, and a long white beard that reached almost to the top of his black leather vest.
His boots were heavy.
His jeans were worn.
And his leather vest carried several motorcycle club patches.
To a stranger, he looked exactly like the kind of man who belonged beside a roaring motorcycle rather than inside a brightly colored toy store.
A little boy hiding behind his mother stared at him.
Two teenagers whispered to each other.
A father near the entrance glanced nervously at the man and then back at his children.
The giant biker noticed none of it.
Or perhaps he had simply learned to ignore it.
His name was Gideon Cole.
He was fifty-one years old.
For most of his adult life, people had made assumptions about him.
They assumed he was dangerous.
They assumed he was angry.
They assumed he didn't like children.
They assumed a man covered in tattoos and dressed in leather couldn't possibly understand anything about dolls, princesses, fairy tales, or little girls who dreamed about castles.
Gideon had stopped trying to correct people.
There was no point.
People saw what they expected to see.
He walked deeper into the store.
The walls were covered with toys.
Action figures.
Stuffed animals.
Board games.
Toy cars.
Building sets.
And, toward the back, an enormous section filled with dolls.
Gideon headed directly toward it.
A young female employee named Rachel noticed him.
She had been working at the store for almost three years, and she had seen plenty of strange customers.
But she had never seen anyone quite like Gideon.
She watched him stop in front of an entire shelf of princess dolls.
He stared.
For several seconds, he didn't move.
Rachel walked closer.
“Can I help you find something?”
Gideon looked down at her.
“Yes.”
His voice was deep enough to make her think of a truck engine.
Rachel smiled politely.
“What are you looking for?”
Gideon pointed toward the shelves.
“All of them.”
Rachel blinked.
“I'm sorry?”
“All the princess dolls.”
Rachel looked at the shelves.
There were dozens.
“Do you mean a particular character?”
“No.”
He pointed again.
“All of them.”
Rachel stared at him.
She wasn't sure whether he was joking.
“You want one of each?”
“No.”
Gideon reached for his wallet.
“I want every one you have.”
Rachel's mouth opened slightly.
“Every princess doll?”
“Yes.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
Gideon looked at the shelves.
“I don't know.”
Rachel laughed nervously.
“There are quite a few.”
“I figured.”
He reached toward the first shelf.
Rachel watched as the enormous tattooed biker carefully picked up a tiny doll wearing a pink dress.
The doll looked absurdly small in his giant hand.
Gideon examined the packaging.
Then he placed it into a shopping cart.
He picked up another.
Then another.
Soon the cart was filling.