Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Damn it. I walked into that one.” My groan was softened by the arrival of a steaming plate of potatoes and eggs. “Thank you.”
“Hope you’re hungry.” He winked at me, and I so was hungry. Famished. Starved. But not only for food. I dug in, and so did he. In short order, we were done with breakfast and heading upstairs, and Knox was back to bouncing with excitement.
“Come on. Let’s go see what we’re working with.” Loaded with empty boxes and trash bags, Knox strode toward the main suite, throwing the heavy wood door open. “I only peeked in.”
“Pink. We’re working with pink. Aunt Henri really, really liked this peachy-pink shade.” The peach wallpaper, peachy-pink satin bed cover, gauzy window coverings, and shelves of knickknacks seemed even more garish in the morning light with Knox beside me. “And empty perfume bottles.”
“Those are collectibles.” Knox gave an airy wave of his hand. “The donation place will know if they’re worth anything. Same with the creepy dolls.”
He pointed at one of the shelves in the corner of the room, lined with Victorian-style dolls with vacant expressions and fancy dresses.
“They are creepy, aren’t they?” Like most things in the house, the faint layer of dust added to the haunted-house vibe, like we were one spooky encounter away from a bad teen flick.
“Yup. The triplets have some cute dolls, but those are just spooky. People will collect anything, I guess.” His pragmatic tone made him sound older than twenty-three. His maturity was one of his most attractive—and tempting—traits. “I’ve done enough renovations to know everyone collects something.”
“Not me.”
“Ha.” He made quick work of stripping the bedding from the queen-size bed. “Even you, Lieutenant. Come on. Tell.”
“I’ve had too many moves for much collecting.” Frowning, I tried to think as fancifully as Knox naturally seemed to. “I don’t date enough to collect broken hearts. Had some baseball cards as a kid but never stuck with it. Takeout menus don’t count. And fortunes don’t either.”
“Fortunes?” He finished bagging up the bedding and gave me a pleading look.
And damn it, his puppy-dog eyes worked. I fished my wallet from my back pocket and showed my small stack of white papers, which testified to my Kung Pao chicken addiction. “I like Chinese takeout. And it’s silly, but I keep my favorite fortunes.”
“I love it.” Knox smiled like my little quirk was brilliant, and hell if I didn’t love his praise. “I collect playlists, but that’s digital. And art supplies, obviously. Too many old Lego sets I can’t let go of. And it’s a good thing I don’t have a house this big, or I’d collect pets. But my weirdest collection is flat pennies.”
“Wait. Like the smashed ones from tourist traps?” Still holding my wallet, I flipped open the coin pocket and revealed a couple of flattened coins. “These are from a couple of family trips. Good luck charms, I guess.”
“Yup. Mine too.” Knox’s grin transformed into something warmer, more like a shared secret. “We might even have some of the same ones. That’s cool.”
“It is.” Having something in common, even a minor thing like collectible pennies, made the gulf between us seem far narrower than at Rob’s barbeque when I’d felt nine hundred to Knox’s fresh-faced twenty-three.
“Okay, that’s the last of the linens.” He moved over to the small bookshelf next to the bed. “Oh, nice. Aunt Henri was a reader.”
“Yeah, mysteries and British cozies. She used to read on the nights she didn’t watch TV crime dramas.” I cleared all the creepy dolls in one swoop into a box.
“These aren’t cozies.” Shaking his head impishly, Knox held up a stack of what could only be termed bodice rippers—long-haired heroes holding half-dressed heroines in close cinches. “I love your aunt more and more. She was one cool old lady.”
I gulped. “I’m almost scared of what else we might find.”
“Maybe you should turn around while I do the nightstand.” Voice merry, he motioned for me to spin.
“What do you think you’ll find?” I couldn’t help my alarmed tone.
“Turn. You can’t unsee some things.” He could be plenty commanding when he wanted, so I obeyed, facing the far window until he exhaled hard. “Okay. We’re safe. No ancient personal items, promise. More books though. Three with barbarians in the title. And two sapphic anthologies.”
“Sapphic?” I blinked rapidly, trying to line up my memories of Aunt Henri with all the new revelations. It was rapidly becoming apparent that I hadn’t known her well at all, and that was a damn shame. And my own fault, all the years I’d spent away and in sporadic contact. But she’d been so much more than her sharp voice, steel-gray short hair, and smart sweater sets. And more than her eccentricities too. My chest panged for all I hadn’t seen when she’d been alive.
“Oh, and there’s a pic,” Knox added.