The Butler did it

**FEEDBACK LOVED. Also, these chapters are kinda short, apologies.*


PART ONE- Oh, knickers...

You curse softly and pick your bags from the floor again, collecting some of the rolling oranges hastily. Shopping all day seemed like a good idea this morning. You just didn’t realise so many shops would be having mid-season sales. (Up to 90% off! No self-respecting shopaholic would pass up an opportunity like that.)
With a small, rueful grin, you shift some of the bags to a more comfortable position and carry on towards your car, glancing down as you manoeuvre a hand into your jeans pocket to get the keys out.
“Bugger!”
This was from the man who just walked into you. Your bags drop to the concrete, spilling fruit, clothes and-horrifyingly-underwear onto the pavement.
You blush a deep crimson and bend to pick them up as quickly as possible, muttering an apology to the guy. He hunkers beside you, handing back escaping apples one by one.
One of his hands brushes yours and you glance up in shock at a small tingle of electricity that shudders up your spine.
He looks familiar. Shortish hair, sort of a deep, chocolate brown or black, and the eyes...you can’t help but stare into them. They’re blue...and green...sort of constantly changing in the sunlight of the bright afternoon. They are filled with intensity and intelligence, boring into your soul as he looks up at you from his knees. His full lips seem to be permanently set in a small, suggestive smirk, even when he parts them to apologise. He’s wearing a white shirt and blue jeans, with scuffed boots that look suspiciously like Doc. Martins.
“I’m sorry darlin’,” he starts quietly in a deep Scottish accent. “I didn’t see you.”
“That’s...alright,” you smile, sort of confused as to where you’ve seem him. He shifts uncomfortably under your scrutiny, and you shake your head, embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re really familiar.”
He chuckles softly. “I get that a lot. Must have a familiar face or somethin’.”
You frown and start to nod. “Yeah.” And then, “Oh shit, Gerard Butler.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Gerard would do, love.”
You drop your jaw, (and nearly your bags-again,) as you finally connect ‘Hot Phantom Gerry’ and ‘Sweet Dragon-fighter Gerry’ to ‘Kneeling in front of you holding a pair of your black knickers Gerry’. Wait...holding your knickers?!
You blush again and snatch them from his outstretched hand, quietly crying inside as he laughs.
He gets to his feet and picks up some of your bags for you, still laughing. “Here. Least I can do is help you get these to the car...assuming these keys are yours, that is.” He holds out your keys...complete with a dodgy key ring of a squirrel with (and you wince as you see it) huge nuts.
“Thanks,” you smile gratefully, still red but determined to at least TRY to regain some composure.
You lead the way towards your car, and put the bulging shopping bags down for a moment as you unlock the door. You of course forget that the lock is stubborn, and have to pull on the handle as hard as you can before the door swings open, almost sending you to the ground. Helpfully, the six-foot Scotsman behind you (you know, the one with the muscles) just laughs uproariously again. You give him a glare that could freeze water, and he attempts to hold it in, his face turning as red as your own in the effort.
You sigh and take the bags from him, dumping them unceremoniously onto the seat before slamming the door.
Raising an eyebrow, you wait until he calms down.
“Sorry."
“Oh, you really aren’t.”
He grins charmingly. “That’s about right.”