“If every day starts off like this… maybe.” She grins and her eyes shift from purple to a clear, shattering blue. “Let me guess. You’re still a big gym freak, too? I remember when we’d catch you doing push-ups sometimes.”
Shewouldremember that.
The one time I let her and Margot stand on my back, they nearly cracked my spine dancing until I threw them off.
“Had to make sure I got in my workouts with a full schedule. I’m not a big gym rat these days. A daily run does me good, plus a little bench-pressing at home.” I pause, then give in. “I’ve already had my run. Might find a few minutes for weights this afternoon.”
“Iknewit. Never change.” Her laugh echoes through the large kitchen, surprisingly carefree considering what’s sitting below us in its vault two floors down like a ticking time bomb. “You’re just that type.”
“What type?” I raise an eyebrow.
“You know what, never mind. Let’s not ruin the truce.” She eyes me suspiciously, her smile melting. “Unless, of course, you’re buttering me up so you can hit me in the face with some bad news. I don’t need more of that.”
“No one does. I’m feeding you, Miss Blackthorn. No ulterior motive.”
“Okay, cool.” She finishes, glugs down her coffee, and pushes her plate away. “I need a second cup. Then we’ll figure out the rest of this mess.”
“Let me top you off.” We stand up together. It’s not my kitchen, but I’ve spent more time here than she has.
For a moment, she hesitates and accidentally presses against me with her shoulder. Her body heat burns into mine.
Below, something softer. Her breast.
We both tense like we’ve been hit with fifty thousand volts.
“Sure,” she whispers, stumbling back. I hear her chair scrape even though I don’t look around, focusing on my task of making the coffee. “Milk. Sugar. Plenty of both if you want to keep me sweet.”
I snort. “What happens if you get it black?”
“You don’t wanna know.” Her eyes flash with mischief. They’re not helping that annoying bulge in my shorts. “I know you don’t want to get on my bad side, Mr. Verity. Not when you’ve gone through all this effort with breakfast like a total gentleman.”
“Sure,” I mutter, pouring a fresh shot of espresso through the machine.
We will get through this. One painful conversation and teasing smirk at a time.
Coffee also helps shore up sanity.
“Thanks,” she says when I pass it back after fixing her a latte. She wraps her hands around the mug, revealing soft-violet painted nails slightly chewed at the edges. “So…”
I join her back at the island after making my own quick Americano.
“So, we need a plan.”
She half smiles. “Obviously. And you must have something in mind?”
“Not quite. I don’t know a single damn thing about art. Don’t know what the right decision for a piece of this caliber is.” Though I hope to God it involves selling the thing ASAP. “Of course, I’m willing to help you figure that out. The sooner it’sout of our hands, the sooner we can get back to our regularly scheduled lives.”
“For sure. I’d prefer fast.” She rubs her temples, smoothing the last bit of sleep the coffee can’t chase away.
“Look, I know this is a big deal for you. This inheritance, the task he left you. I thought what he threw on your cousins’ plates was crazy enough. I wasn’t involved with those cases, though. Small relief.”
“I’ll say. I didn’t realize—it’s priceless, Holden,” she whispers sharply. “I’m not sure how I’ll even get it appraised.”
“You’ll walk away comfortable.” I nod.
“Ifit’s real, yes. But remember, there have been about a couple dozen forgeries over the years.” She pauses. “I mean, I’ll be good for a while if it isn’t, too. The trust he left me was really generous all on its own.”
“That’s our first step. Figure out if this treasure’s worth chasing at all. Once we know that, we’ll find the right buyer.” I shoot her another glance. “If you want to sell.”
