Page 19
“You’re no fun. I bet it’s really cool.”
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye as he started to turn away but stopped when I whispered, “If it's a bomb, I swear I’ll keep your secret.”
He almost sounded sorry when he said, “I can’t show you. Or anyone else.”
Immediately, my interest multiplied by a million. It was something extra, extra special. “Come on, there’s a table over there,” I pointed toward a shadowy corner, “no one will see. If anyone bothers us, I know where to get lots of flammable liquids.”
His eyes softened, and at that moment, I knew I won. He followed me as I led the way.
When we reached the table, I pulled out a chair and sat, tapping a couple of fingers on the wooden surface. “I love this kind of stuff.”
“What kind of ‘stuff’ is that?” he asked. He set the crate down but kept his palms flat on the lid.
His fingernails were a glossy black and I tried to remember if they were painted in my dreams. For the life of me, I couldn’t recall.
“Old shit, stuff people forget about. Mysterious, esoteric things. Undervalued things. They’re all interesting to me. Like hidden gems or something. I always wanted to treasure hunt, like go dig on some island, but I haven’t had the chance yet. How do you even figure out how to do that?” I laughed.
The man pursed his lips slightly, looking mildly irritated for reasons I couldn’t fathom other than my word vomit. I cleared my throat and sat back, suddenly very aware that I was probably overwhelming him with my enthusiasm. Chances were, he didn’t give a fuck about anything I had just said.
While I half expected him to grab his box and stalk off, he cleared his throat. “I like that kind of stuff, too. I’ve never gone hunting for pirate treasure, but I would imagine one would just go. And bring a shovel.”
His finger trailed along the wooden cover, and I watched the motion as he curled it around the edge. My neck twitched, remembering the way he’d clasped me in one of my dreams.
I felt his eyes on me. “Well, are you going to show me?” I asked.
He stared at me for another moment before he pulled off the cover and took out a smaller, cardboard box. Then he opened that as well and started showing me the contents.
It was gorgeous—I’d never seen anything like it. It was all I could do to keep my hands to myself. “That’s gorgeous. What is it?”
The man’s shoulders relaxed while he turned it around so I could see the sides. “It's a Hausburg writing box. One of a kind.”
“Do you write?” The urge to slide my finger against it was so strong I had to force my hands to my lap.
He shook his head and lifted the outer lid, lowering the pretty item so could I gape at the inside. The liner appeared otherworldly, a shimmering deep purple so dark it was almost onyx.
“Holy shit,” I whispered, glancing up at him. “I can’t believe you found something like this. No wonder you didn’t want to show me.”
He arched a single brow and wrapped the Hausburg back up while I watched in envy. “What is your name?”
“What’s yours?” He shot back. “You accosted me.”
“Who even says that these days? Weirdo.” He huffed, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin.
“Brittney,” I replied. “Now it's your turn.”
“Kiam.”
“Oh, that’s a nice name.”
“My parents seemed to think so.”
My hands found their way back to the table's surface. He was the most interesting person I’d met in a while and now I was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Finally, I said, “Nice to meet you.”
He eyed me before he said, “Be careful in the woods.”
Surprise hit me and my mind went blank. When I went to look at him again, he was gone. Like, completely gone. There wasn’t a black suit anywhere to be seen.
What was he trying to say? Was he going to go back to that house and ransack it? If he was finding items like this writing box, who knew what freaking amazing things were sitting in the mansion.
