What could my idiot cousin really want with a bunch of antique love letters? I couldn’t for the life of me think of anything. But an idea popped into my head.
“There’s an old wooden steamer trunk in the apartment above the shop. I tossed them in there with some of Melody’s nicer vintage clothes until I have time to go through them.”
“Cool. I’m sure the old broad had some amazing dresses from like the twenties and stuff.”
I stared at him. “Melody was born in 1931, Brett. I don’t think she had flapper dresses.”
“Oh. Huh. Well, that’s too bad. I’m sure all you guys love that kind of thing,” he said while checking out the ass on a passing female server. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Well,” I said, putting down my napkin and standing up, “if by ‘you guys’ you mean antique appraisers, you’d be right. We do love that kind of thing, especially if we can confirm provenance, valuate the item, and find out interesting history attached to a particular garment. Thanks for the burger.”
I left him sitting there with his jaw hanging down in surprise. Of all the Stiels, I was definitely the least likely to make waves. But not only was I sick of his stupidity, I was also nervous as hell that everyone in my family seemed to want to get their hands on the writing slope I had stashed away in my nest back home.
Before I got back to the valet stand to collect my car, someone grabbed my elbow hard enough to bruise. I whipped around and saw my cousin with a nasty look on his face. It was only there for a brief second, and then he was all smiles and fake friendliness again.
“You should have offered that box to one of us before selling it, Augie.”
“Why? You never cared about family history before.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt.
“Things like that are more valuable than you think. I’d like you to bring me the contents at least.”
I yanked my arm out of his hold. “Stop touching me,” I said loudly enough for passersby to hear. I followed it with two giant strides away from him the way Saint had taught me. “And you’re not getting the contents. Melody left it to me to do with as I please. There’s nothing in a pack of old love letters you could have any interest in. Goodbye.”
I turned and stepped quickly to the valet stand, hoping he’d let me go without grabbing me again. My elbow still smarted from his tight grip. He’d always been a bully, but this was just plain weird. Even for him.
Brett called out to my retreating back. “See you Friday.”
“Said the lion to the lamb,” I muttered under my breath. Voices in my head began clamoring for attention and action, but the strongest one must have taken charge of my body because the next thing I knew, I was on the road, halfway to the Dallas office of Landen Safekeeping.
And Saint.
Chapter 20
Saint
When Lanny called me into his office to ask how things were going with Augie, I felt the slinky coil of guilt in my gut. I’d been nervous all day about this since Lanny had needed to put off our meeting till mid-afternoon.
“Fine. Good, I mean. Good,” I said.
Lanny raised his eyebrows at me in question. “What the fuck was that?”
“What was what?” I asked, despite knowing what he meant.
“You did a thing. With your face and your mouth. I can’t decide if you were lying to me or lying to yourself. Wanna try again?” His eyebrows were still raised, but he seemed to be more surprised than upset.
“I just… I wonder if maybe you should assign someone else to work with him,” I said even though the mere thought of another person working with Augie, touching Augie, made me want to beat the shit out of something.
“Explain,” Lanny demanded. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “Nothing. I just… he’s…” I felt my jaw tighten, and I looked away. “He’s really cute.”
There. If I was looking to lose the respect of my mentor, that oughta do it nicely.
God, I was a total jackass.
“Oh hell,” Lanny muttered.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
And then he laughed. Like I’d said the funniest thing in the fucking world. I couldn’t help staring at him like maybe he’d had a psychotic break.
“Lan…?” I asked.
“Dude, seriously? That’s all? You can’t work with him because he’s a hot piece of ass?”
“Don’t call him that. And no, it’s not just that…” But really, it was mostly that.
“Then what else is it?”
I stared at him, desperately trying to think of what other problems there were besides the hot piece of ass thing. I came up with nothing. Not one single thing. But I couldn’t risk Lanny not taking my complaint seriously and reassigning me, so I had to get creative.