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“I’m serious. About you.”
My throat ached, but a jubilant smile stretched my mouth, and I stepped closer to wrap my arms around his neck. “You’re not just keeping me around because I know all your secrets?”
He didn’t smile, swallowing as he shook his head and rested his hands on my sides. “I’m glad you know all my secrets. And I’m glad I know all of yours.”
My heart gave a mighty thump.
“Me too,” I croaked, palming his nape and pulling him closer for a kiss. He made a soft sound into my mouth, wrapping his arms around my waist and tugging me flush against him.
As our tongues glided together in a slow, romantic kiss, a muffled voice came through the door.
“That was really sweet, you two.”
Holt huffed against my mouth and broke the kiss, flicking an unimpressed glance at the closed door as he stepped back. “Yeah, thanks, Wes.”
Chuckling, my cheeks stained pink, I backed up a little to look around the room. We were in the attic space, the sloped ceiling and wooden beams covered in cobwebs, the air smelling woodsy and musty from the collection of items haphazardly displayed.
I wandered over to the little round stained-glass window to inspect the collection of old instruments set out below it. There was a drum with a skin that didn’t look like typical leather, the stitching thick and stained, and an old, worn violin without any strings. I reached for a slender hand-carved flute, the wood slightly green and a leather cord tied around its middle. It looked like words had been delicately etched into the side.
“Whoops, better not touch that, babe.” Holt was beside me in an instant, grabbing my hand and tugging me back. “Cursed.”
I blanched, glancing down at the flute again. “But there’s no sign—”
“Yeah.” Holt scratched his neck with a frown, glancing around. “Maybe don’t touch anything. Just in case.”
I tucked myself deeper into his side, and he wrapped his arm around me. “You… you can always tell when something’s cursed though, right? That’s what you said.”
“Well, I mean…” He squirmed a little. “It kinda depends on how old the object is. When it was last touched. That kinda thing. So, like…” He looked around, then pointed at a burnished copper platter that was dull in patches, its ornate edge dinged. “That was donated recently, and it’s definitely cursed.”
I stared at it. “Why would someone curse a platter?”
Holt shrugged. “Usually stuff like that is cursed with things like… like if you eat off it, you’ll never feel full. You’ll always have the sensation of being on the edge of starvation, even if you’ve just stuffed yourself with food.”
My horrified gaze had swung to him. “Why would someone do that?”
He shrugged again. “Dunno. Maybe someone said something shitty about their neighbour’s food, so the neighbour gave it to them as a ‘gift.’” Holt snorted, sounding entirely unconcerned. “It’s usually the fae who do stuff like that. They can be pretty vindictive.”
Jeez. Suddenly I was far less eager to explore this room. Everything looked suspicious. Like the huge brooch in the shape of a stag with crystal antlers. And the overstuffed floral armchair with a sign propped on its seat claiming it to be the ‘comfiest chair on earth—one you’ll never want to leave.’
We looked around for a while. Holt offered to buy me something, but now I wasn’t all that confident he could always tell when something was cursed, so I politely told him I couldn’t see anything I wanted. We said goodbye to Wes as we left and made our way back downstairs while he relocked the door behind us.
As we stepped back onto the main shop floor, Holt immediately pulled me toward a display of vintage clothing, which seemed to mainly be from the seventies. He held up a pair of bell-bottom jeans and shot me a sultry smile. “You’d look great in these. With this,” he added, grabbing a brightly coloured crochet halter-neck crop top.
I chuckled, flicking through the rack. “I think that’s more your style.”
“Ooh, how about this?” Holt plucked a silky bright pink shirt with billowing sleeves off the rack, then tilted his head as he eyed it. “Actually, I kind of want this.”
“I’ll get it for you,” I said eagerly, then spotted something bright green and reached for it. “What’s this?”
It turned out to be a lime green pantsuit. Holt’s eyes flared with excitement, his pupils turning wobbly for a split second. “Fuck yes, I’m getting that.”
If there was anyone in the world who could pull it off, it was Holt. Draping the suit over my arm, I grabbed the pink shirt from him with a grin.
“You don’t have to pay for them,” he protested, but I ignored him and grabbed a silver sequined disco hat, plopping it on his head.
He grinned and immediately turned to the nearby mirror to inspect himself. “I kinda like it.”
“Or you could get it for Vince.”
