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I nod solemnly and meekly while Granny’s cackle echoes from behind me. Even Victoria joins in, her much softer, sweet-as-sweetened-iced-tea-on-a-hot-day tone mingling with Granny’s.
I was wrong.
All those good reviews were spot freaking on.
CHAPTER 8
Victoria
I have to say I had a successful time antiquing, in which I purchased an old but new-to-me wardrobe straight out of a fairy tale—you know, the kind where the doors get flung wide, a world of enchantment awaits, and everyone breaks into song—two dressers, a sideboard, a settee, a telephone table, and two lamps. I got it all for a heck of a deal too. Atlas’ granny knows how to bargain, and she drives a mean bottom line. I’m still not sure if she likes me or not, but that huge trunk load of books stashed in my beater car? They were thrown into the deal, thanks to her.
She did say they had murderous intent after trying to kill me, then hinted she would actually sue despite what she said before that, put on all this incredible charm, and bam! All of a sudden, we were getting things at half-price and for free.
The little lunch spot Atlas found was a few blocks over. It was a sweet, cozy little diner with blue walls, seafoam green benches, and aqua-colored tables. The big fish on the outside might have something to do with the interior. He and his granny sit across from me, leaving me with a bench all to myself.
I try very hard not to look him in the face because I’m afraid he’ll see all the stars I have in my eyes, and it will be game over for me trying to be subtle, especially in front of his granny. One should not hit on one’s crush in front of one’s crush’s granny. I’m pretty sure there’s a law about that somewhere.
“How are you going to get all that furniture out to your place anyway?” Atlas’ granny sips on the massive glass of soda she ordered.
She also got the triple burger with fries, a salad, and onion rings, and she added bacon and avocado to the burger. I’m not sure where she puts it all because she has a banging body. Like, for real. She’s actually kind of hot. Please don’t take that in a strange way because I mean it as a compliment, not some creepy…ugh, never mind. I’m cutting this off right now.
“I’m going to rent a truck tomorrow. I’ll arrange all the internet pick-ups from those online sales groups for earlier in the day, then I’ll get the antique stuff last.”
“I think it’s going to take a bigger truck than a pickup.”
“Oh. I…you’re probably right.” I feel instantly juvenile and idiotic. “I would have to make more than one trip. I could do that.”
“I can go with you if you need some help. Actually, I know you need some help.” Atlas got a cherry milkshake, and when he raised it and slipped the straw between his lips, I got a buzz below the belt. My va-jay does a happy dance because watching him drink that milkshake? Well, maybe I wish he was drinking my milkshake. Wow, brain. Wow, you are too much sometimes, even for yourself.
“No! You’ve done so much to help already.”
“Like heck I have. Okay, maybe I have, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do some more. I’m not going to let you go to a bunch of people’s houses alone. Even if they’ll help you load, who’s going to help you get it out of the truck?”
“Uh, yeah. You’re right. I don’t have superhuman couch-lifting skills that I know of. My getting said couch through the doorway and dressers up the stairs skills are probably as lacking as using my body as a bookshelf skill. I might get crushed, and it will be death by furniture instead of death by books.”
He shakes his head emphatically, grinning at me until my heart nearly tears right out and runs to the back kitchen to be asked to be made into a heart burger. “No death by books. No death by furniture. Not happening. I’ll help. And we’ll make one load. I’m good at packing and stacking.”
His granny snorts into her soda but says nothing.
“I found a place that will take the old furniture. I figured that if I made two loads, I could get it and drop it off, then go for the antique stuff. That actually makes the most sense.”
“You’re donating it?”
“Just the things I don’t want. They’re going to a place that does recycling and upcycling. They’re going to make them pretty again. Or at least functional. I think my great-aunt would like that. If she’s not already haunting those things.”
“I’ll have one exorcism to go,” Atlas’ granny says. She looks at me, and even though she’s smiling cheerfully, I still don’t know what to make of her. She’s a tough cookie. And she clearly knows.
