by Lindsey Hart
“Hey. Sorry, I’m late. I kind of got lost along the way.” A splash of color appeared on her fine skin, just below the smattering of freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks. She stepped forward and held out a hand that was absolutely tiny. “I’m Laney. You talked to Rayvn on the phone, but she couldn’t make it. We take turns doing picks, or sometimes we all come. I hope it’s okay that it’s me instead.”
He nearly thought twice about shaking that hand. He realized that it would be rude, and his grandmother would have frowned on that, saying she might have raised him on the farm, homeschooled and all but she certainly hadn’t taught him to be off-putting to people.
Hector slowly reached out and took her hand. He was very aware that he was wearing a threadbare grey t-shirt and a stained old pair of jeans. His work boots were old and comfortable because he liked them that way. He felt more than a little shabby standing next to the fairy from the city and he didn’t like that. He didn’t like it at all.
When he reached out and took her hand, he wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t careful either. His fingers closed over hers, no, engulfed hers. He shook her hand even as he resisted the urge to tell her to get back in the truck.
She’s too pretty. The way she looked at him, so boldly, waiting for something, it was like she knew it too. He hated that. She was probably the kind of woman who played games. Who jerked people around and broke hearts just because she could. Why the hell do I even care? She’s here for antiques. He didn’t care. Hector was almost fully convinced of that. Almost. He just didn’t like it. He didn’t like her. He didn’t like that she was there to poke and prod through his life and cheapen it by offering what was sure to be a lowball price for it.
“So…” Laney tugged her hand out of his.
He tucked his back at his side. There was a strange burning sensation in his fingers. Probably annoyance, since it was spreading through the rest of him as well. It was quickly turning to anger. He wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed people at the best of times.
“You want to look around?”
“Yeah. That would be nice. If you want to show me what you’re selling, I could take a look.”
“Everything’s for sale.” He shrugged, far too casually.
He wondered, briefly, as the wind kicked up, swirling gravel dust right into his face, if he stank. He hadn’t showered since the day before and he couldn’t remember if he’d put on deodorant that morning. It was the fucking farm and he was alone. He didn’t always bother the way other people did with that stuff. It made him embarrassed, standing in front of a woman as pretty and sweet and fresh looking as Laney, wondering if he stank. He wanted to curse but bit that back too. His grandmother would have been furious if she was alive and heard it. She would have liked Laney. That thought bothered him even more. The fiery annoyance in his veins heated up until he felt like he was boiling.
“Uh- everything?” Laney glanced towards the house. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
She blushed again and it drove him nuts that he thought she was even prettier with that color on her face. It made her freckles stand out and set off her glorious sea green eyes. They were like the tropics. Tropics he’d never even fucking seen.
“For what?” He asked gruffly, voice like gravel churning around in his mouth.
“I- if you’re selling the house- it’s an estate sale then?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
She glanced away for a second and he nearly missed her eyes until they returned to his face. They were different, softer, full of pity. Probably because she pitied him for being what she likely termed as book woods and stupid. He didn’t like that. He didn’t want her pity or her judgment, this girl from the city. She thought she was better than him with her fancy boots that weren’t boots at all, her pristine dress and her far too pretty, far too charming, little girl lost look. It was all an act. He was sure of it. She probably thought if he thought she was pretty and if he responded well to her, that he’d give her better deals on shit. Not fucking happening. Might as well up the price and teach her a lesson.
“It’s- um…” Laney scuffed the toe of her useless boot in the dirt. It immediately reddened with the dust from the driveway. “It’s what people call it I guess when they sell the things of someone who has passed on.”
“Passed on.” He forced the words out. His heart felt like lead in his chest. His stomach felt sick like he’d eaten too much food, but he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. “That’s a nice way to put it.”
“Is it? I… I’m sorry…” Laney glanced back at the truck. “I’m sorry I’m late. Really. If I’ve upset you- I can- well, I can just go.”
Something about that was worse than anything he’d had to deal with in his entire life. And he’d dealt with a lot. He wanted her to leave. Or at least, he should have wanted her to go. He found that he didn’t. That the thought of it brewed up a storm of panic inside of him. He wasn’t familiar with the sensation and he sure as hell wasn’t comfortable with it.
“Might as well have a look in the barn there.” He pointed off towards the leaning weathered grey structure. It had pretty much always looked that way, as far back as he could remember. “Since you drove all this way.” And I need the cash. That’s the only reason I’m not telling her to pack up and get her little better than thou city girl ass out of here.
“Really? Thank you so much! I really appreciate it. If- if I’m going through things you don’t want me to, or if you don’t want to sell something, just let me know. I’m here to respect your property and your things.”
“You mean, I’m supposed to come with you?”
He realized too late, how intimidating it would be to be trapped in the same small space as she was. Not that the barn was small, but with her in it, her perfume or the scent of her shampoo, her clothes, her skin… anything, reaching him- it would be far too small. Hopefully, it was dusty. Real dusty.
“Yeah, sure. You can help me dig things out then if that’s okay. I’m by myself and it might be difficult. Plus, you can tell me what you want to sell and don’t want to sell.”
“I told you, everything’s for sale.”
She cocked a fiery brow. She had the spirit of a person three times her size. It was always the smallest ones that were the feistiest. That seemed to be true of everything. Not that I admire it. It’s more annoying than anything.
“Yeah? Well, let’s get started. If you help me, I can get way more done and way more stuff out of your way. Deal?”
She produced her hand again, a sweet, white, pristine hand with the tiny crescent nails and the pale, smooth skin that was so very warm and alive. He couldn’t bring himself to touch her again. He didn’t know what would happen if he did. He suddenly felt far too warm. The anger and annoyance in his veins turned into something else entirely.
“Deal.” He turned and led the way. There was no need to shake her hand again.
CHAPTER 3
Laney
Laney was used to rude receptions, but Hector took the cake. She didn’t even know his last name. He hadn’t bothered to introduce himself. If Rayvn hadn’t filled her in, she wouldn’t have known even that. He was gruff, unapproachable, distant, aloof even. It was clear he didn’t like her, even though she’d done nothing to earn that dislike. He was a little strange also… and entirely too handsome. God, he was the most… alluring man she’d ever seen.
If the tall, dark, handsome category was really a thing, he definitely fell into it. His dark hair was streaked with grey which gathered heavily at the temples, but it only added to his mystique. It was a little ragged and overgrown, in need of a cut but if styled properly, he had the kind of hair that belonged on a billboard. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. He was lean, wiry and athletic. His muscles were striated, not thick and chunky. He looked almost a little too lean, like he hadn’t eaten a good meal in a while, and it thinned out the features of his face. It sharpened his nose, his cheekbones, his strong brow, and angular jaw.
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br /> He turned without another word and led the way off to the barn. Laney followed, but only because she didn’t want to be caught standing there staring at his ass in those worn-in faded jeans as he walked away. Which of course she was.
Damn it. She was like a magnet. She only attracted the worst of the lot. Any male attention was usually bad attention. She didn’t know why she couldn’t just meet someone normal. She’d tried everything. After her twenties came and went, she’d done a hell of a lot of work on herself. Not to herself, but internally, trying to get in the right state of mind, learning how to fulfill herself and make herself happy. She was at the point where she really was happier without the drama.
What the hell is that feeling in the pit of my stomach then? It was a cross between pity and attraction. Pity because Hector just gave off that lonely vibe of loss. He was wounded. She could tell just by looking in his eyes. She didn’t know if it had to do with the recent loss he’d suffered or whether it was from something else. The attraction part at least she could understand, even if she was annoyed by it.
“Here it is.” Hector pulled open the barn door, a huge wood square on hinges.
The whole thing was obviously home built, probably a century before. It was weathered and ancient, the paint all chipped away. The wood, a gorgeous grey made for excellent photographs or crafting.
“Thanks.” Laney followed him in again. She tried very hard not to look at his ass again. God, he had a glorious ass. It was easier when there was something else to focus on.
The barn was full. Not full to the rafters like some were, but full enough. Piles of boxes, some newer looking than others, were stacked up on the right side. To the left was all the furniture. There were old stalls after that. Obviously, they had once been used to house animals. Like most barns, there was a hayloft overhead and a rickety looking ladder that led up to it. The air wasn’t dank since sunlight filtered through cracks in the boards all over the place. It was a little dusty though, the kind of dust that dances in the sun and is hard to breathe in. The kind that makes for unrepressed dry sneezes.
“Wow. This is beautiful.”
Hector turned. His hand lingered on the door for a second before he released it to swing open in the gentle breeze. “My grandfather’s father built it when they bought the farm.”
“That’s incredible. I always wondered what it would be like to have some history like this. My family, they didn’t have any antiques growing up. To some people, if they grew up with it, they don’t like it. It’s like the stuff has no value because for them it’s common. For me, though, the stuff I grew up with is antique now I guess since I’m getting so old. Stuff from the seventies and eighties. It’s hard to believe.”
The lines on Hector’s forehead pulled into a frown. His eyes studied Laney so intently it was a little unnerving.
“I don’t find it commonplace. Everything in here has meaning.”
“Are you sure you want to sell it?” Laney stayed rooted to the floor. Normally, she’d be off exploring but it just didn’t feel right. She felt more like an intruder than anything. She waited for Hector the Grouch to make the first move.
“No. I’m not sure at all, but circumstance and want are often at odds with each other.”
Laney clenched her hands in the extra fabric of her dress, right along her thighs. “I- well, if it makes you feel better, my clients will love it for a long time.”
“Why would that make me feel better?” Hector didn’t blink or turn away. It was like he didn’t quite understand the subtleties of being polite. Or maybe it was more that he didn’t want to be.
“I- I don’t know. Maybe- maybe I should just go.”
Hector swallowed hard. It looked like he was debating with himself for a moment, but his face was absolutely inscrutable. “I guess we’ve already been over this. Take a look. Tell me if there’s anything you like. It’s ridiculous to have attachments to objects anyway. They can’t do anything for you and the meaning should be inside of you, not in them.”
Laney didn’t wait for further conversation. She wanted to say she agreed. She wanted to say she was sorry for his loss. She wanted to say a thousand fucking things and none of them would do her any good. So, she forced herself to move towards the pile of ancient furniture.
She was infinitely careful as she slid around objects. Dressers, vanities, hutches, washstands, bookcases, desks, gramophones… it was all there and in excellent condition. There was a stack of old windows, crates, milk containers. Lord, it was a picker’s dream come true. Normally the things they found needed to go through a few weeks’ worth of refinishing, but everything in the barn looked like it was next to new. She would have taken it all and gladly paid the asking price after a good round of bargaining, but something about Hector gave her pause.
She stepped out of the way and crossed her arms. He looked at her warily from across the distance. A beam of sunlight, drifting in through a large crack in the barn boards right above her head, separated them. Dust motes danced in that beam, softly and silently.
And then, because Hector was Hector and he wasn’t like anyone she’d ever encountered before, he started to pace. He moved back and forth, obviously aggravated.
“I… I would like to buy a couple of things if you’re sure it’s alright?” There was so much caution in her tone it filled up the whole barn. I need to stop asking his permission a hundred times. He was the one who called us. While I’m at it, I should stop offering to leave.
Hector whirled, eyes wild. “And would you try and offer me nothing for it? For the things that your clients would apparently treasure?”
“No. Of course not.” She laughed nervously. “Name the price. If it’s too much I’ll let you know. And if it’s not enough, I’ll tell you too. I’m not here to cheat you.”
“No? In my experience, everyone is out for themselves. I haven’t met a single person who would do anything for someone else.”
“Then you haven’t met enough people. I know tons of people who are kind and fair. My best friends-”
“No. That’s not how this works. I know that already. You want to buy things, things that are just objects, for a low price and sell them to other people for a high price so that you make the spread. It’s how you live. Dispersing other people’s memories into meaningless commerce.”
“Okay. I’m pretty sure we have a misunderstanding here about what it is I actually do.”
Laney crossed her arms over her slight chest. Her better judgment told her to leave, but her temper, which was fairly notorious for flaring when provoked, told her to stand her ground and defend herself. For some reason, it mattered what Hector thought of her. It matters what everyone thinks. I want people to think I’m a decent person because I damn well am. It just matters extra that he knows that. “I believe you called us. I offered to leave since it was clear that you weren’t ready to sell and that it was only going to upset you, but you insisted that I come over here. So, if anyone is at fault for anything here, it’s you.”
“Ready?” Hector scoffed. “You know nothing about my life. You walk onto my property, into my barn, on my farm, and you think you know me?”
“Not at all. I was just saying, you’re the one who called us. I was asked to be here. I didn’t just show up out of the blue. I wanted to leave, and you didn’t want me to. I still can. Actually, I’m going to. Right now.”
“Good. Yes, leave. That’s exactly what you should do. Haul that empty trailer back to wherever you came from and find someone else’s life to pry into.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. It was something about the way Hector was looking at her, warily, like a feral animal she’d accidentally trapped. “I am not trying to pry into anything,” she insisted. “Seriously. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Anger warred with compassion. Even though she was annoyed, the tender part of her heart won. “I’m sorry. Okay. I’ll leave. I’ll leave and you can forget about this.” She reached into the small purse she had slung around
her torso. It had her cash and her phone and business cards inside. She dug out a card and held it between them. “Here. This is my card. You can always call me if you end up changing your mind.”
“So that you can sell my family’s memories to someone else and profit from it? Do you ever think about what you’re really doing?” He started to pace again, agitated, ignoring her and the card.
“Of course,” she said softly. Her hand fell back to her side, the card gripped tightly in her fingertips. “That’s the real reason I love doing this. I- I like to think that everything has a story. We refinish most of our pieces so that they can be loved for another hundred years. That’s why I do it. The money is secondary. Sometimes we don’t make a cent off of it.”
He whirled, eyes flashing. “So, you want me to believe that you’re some kind of saint, preserving history for the sake of it. Do you really think that what you do matters at all? To anyone?”
“I…” There is seriously no right way to answer that question.
It became chillingly clear to her that whatever Hector had going on didn’t have anything to do with her. She hadn’t lost anyone close to her. She wasn’t well acquainted with what grief looked like. Whatever she’d walked into, it was sad. He was struggling and it came out as anger and frustration. She didn’t want to stand there and be his punching bag either. It was clear she was just making things worse.
Laney took a step to the right and set her card down on the closest object, a dresser, the mirror still attached in its harp. It was immaculate, though the mirror itself was fogged over with the passage of time and had little black specks along the edge.
Hector stared at her, nostrils flaring. His shoulders were hunched and the look in his eyes was so wild and feral it was nearly frightening. His breathing wasn’t right. His nostrils flared and then his mouth opened, and he started gasping like he was choking. She stopped, shocked, her eyes drawn to him. His chest heaved with the effort of breathing. It was painful for her to even watch.