Page 68 of The Thief

“We’d like to be left alone,” I answered. “We’re here to look.”

His head bobbled as if he didn’t believe us. “If there’s anything you need, let me know, and I’ll be glad to help.”

“Don’t follow us,” Joy said politely, tugging my arm as we escaped to the dining tables. “They’re like stalkers. It gives me the creeps. I know they work on commission, but it’s so intrusive.” She gasped. “Oh, look! I adore these high tables.”

“We have enough tables.” I grabbed her hand and tugged her away. “Let’s look at couches and chairs.”

I heard another crunch.

Joy licked the barbecue seasoning from her thumb. “We should locate a Breed resale shop. Have you ever been to one before? They’re marvelous. I went to one in a warehouse, and it was bliss. They had furniture from the 1500s. So much history.”

I sat in a brown chair with stiff cushions. “Antique furniture would be out of our price range.”

Joy ate another chip. “I suppose, but I adore being surrounded by history.” She ran her fingers along a table. “The craftsmanship isn’t what it used to be. Most of this isn’t even real wood but wood shavings compressed together. They glue paper on it that looks like wood. Do they have any Breed furniture stores around here? It’s a big-enough city. Maybe we should try those.”

“Hope said they’re overpriced. She also looked at the inventory recently and didn’t like what she saw, so here we are.”

After testing out which chairs were comfortable, I sent a few snapshots to Hope. She asked to see everything that caught our eye. We had to think about what worked not only aesthetically with the house but also for the Packmaster’s taste.

Which meant the red chaise was out of the question.

Joy sank into a brown leather sofa. “Mercy, come sit. This is heavenly. Don’t you think they’d appreciate the masculine look of leather?”

I plopped down beside her. “Wow. You’re right. Imagine two of these facing each other in front of the fireplace.”

Joy kicked off her sandals and put her feet on the couch. She reclined onto her back, her head in my lap, and resumed munching on her snacks. The air filled with a mixture of barbecue and sweet floral perfume. “You sure said some silly things last night.”

“What things? I was asleep when we got home.”

She giggled. “You weren’t asleep. I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Word to the wise: stay away from the Wild Rabbit.”

She crunched on another chip. “You said Bear was the handsomest man in the pack. I never knew he played guitar. He should entertain us one night.”

My stomach clenched. That drink must have worked as a truth serum. “What else did I say?”

“The rest was incoherent. You were rambling about being a terrible person and how undeserving you were of a pack.” Joy touched my cheek and searched my eyes. “Oh, honey. You don’t really feel that way, do you?”

“I wasn’t myself last night. Between Krys riding a bear like a rodeo king and Bear fighting a juiced-up Mage, it was a whirlwind of action. I’m not even sure how much of it was real. I think someone shot an electric arrow, and Calvin passed out daggers. Then I remember Archer tossing donuts on a unicorn’s horn, but that part must have been a dream.”

She gave a bubbly laugh. “You’re such a talented storyteller. You told us every detail, except some of it was embellished with fantasy. Montana explained which parts were true.”

I admired Joy’s sparkling blue eyes, the color of an azure sky. Her curled lashes made them stand out even more. I wondered how she’d gotten the deep scar on her forehead, but afraid it might trigger an unpleasant memory on such a nice outing, I left my curiosity alone.

“I hope someday we’re old ladies together,” she said with a faraway gaze. “Wouldn’t that be sweet? To live with people long enough to watch them mate, have children, age. To remember these moments from long ago. Everyone in my life was either a parasite or a fleeting face. I want to grow old with the same people around me—people I love.”

I tapped her nose. “You’ll be that grandma in the rocking chair who all the kids are clamoring to sit with.”

Joy quieted while staring at the ceiling.

“Let me send Hope a picture of the couch,” I said.

She lifted her head to let me stand. Instead of getting up, Joy remained on her back, the bag of chips on her chest.

Mercy

Joy and I fell in love with this brown leather sofa

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