Entangled (Evolve Series Novella 2.5) (7 page)

Chapter 8

~Dane~

G
arage sales…where to begin. Laney has
exactly $210 with her, and with that small amount, she plans to outfit her
duplex in decent furniture. I call bullshit, no way is she pulling that off;
she said “watch me.” One thing we’ve both agreed on, thank God, is no used
mattresses. That’s just disgusting.

At the first sale, I get out of her truck and
tentatively follow her up the driveway. A garage sale virgin, I’m simply
following her lead.  I stand behind her and try not to interfere or laugh as
she haggles with an old man over a kitchen table and chairs. It’s like watching
a professional auction, the two of them going back and forth so fast all you
hear is “haynanamanababa.”

I certainly didn’t hear them reach an agreement,
but they shake hands and Laney rips the $60 price tag off the table and hands
it, along with $25 in cash, to him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Grab that side,” she tells me as she lifts her
own, and soon, the four chairs are also loaded and we’re on our way. I just
stare over at her in amazement, my sassy girl driving her pickup truck,
seemingly unimpressed with her own keen negotiation skills. I think it’s hot as
hell and I can’t decide which I want to do more—demand she pull over and attack
her or offer her a job.

“You talked him down $35, baby. That was more than
you even paid.”

“Yeah?” She looks at me with a smirk then back to
the road. “So?”

“So, you’re quite the haggler, Miss Walker. Where’d
you learn to do that?”

“Growing up with my dad and all his friends, you
know. With poker night and guitar night, you pick up two kinds of talking, shit
and fast.”

I shake my head and grin. My girl sure is
something.

The next sale we pass, according to Laney, doesn’t
even warrant stopping so we pull a drive-by.

“What exactly does one look for in determining the
stop-worthiness of a sale?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

“Big ticket items. That was just a bunch of boxes
to dig through.”

Big ticket items? Oh dear God, she’s serious.

“What about this one?” I point to a yard full of
stuff coming up on the right. “I see a bike. And a lamp.”

“And end tables! Good eye, babe!” She pulls
onto
the curb and jumps out, making a beeline for the end tables.

Again, I was being a smartass, whereas she thinks
we struck gold.  I’m gonna try and be a good sport, though. She really seems to
enjoy this, so I take a new attitude and begin to peruse some items thrown on a
table. Newer baseball cards, junk. Old VHS movies, crap. Fish tank, no thank
you. Books, never…wait a damn minute! For some reason, out of the whole pile,
my eyes zero in on the title
Winnie the Pooh
. There it sits, a dusty old
book with an ugly green cover, and I know just the person who will love it. I
pick it up and open it. It’s not a first edition or anything, but old, with
that distinct scent of aged literature. I flip it over, looking for a price
tag, but there’s not one, so I wander over to the woman that I’d seen taking
money from other people.

“How much is this book?” I ask her.

“Fifty cents.”

I dig my money clip out of my pocket and hand her a
five, glancing around for Laney. She’s in a heated debate with yet another
older man, this time over the end tables. “Do you have a bag? I kinda want to
hide it.”

“Sure,” the elderly woman smiles at me and hands me
my change, then digs out a blue plastic bag, “here you go.”

“Thank you,” I say and hide the book in the bag as
I walk over to Laney.

“This is highway robbery! If you want those prices,
open a store!” she spouts at him, one hand on her hip.

“Those are Queen Anne legs on those tables, young’un,”
the man argues, then turns his head and spits.

“You ready, baby?” I reach out and touch her arm,
trying to stop her from verbally accosting the nice old man any further.

She turns and notices the bag in my hand. “You
bought something?” Her voice goes up a pitch excitedly. “See, fun, right?”

“Yeah,” I chuckle.

“See,” she turns back to the poor guy, “we already
bought one thing, so that makes us paying customers. Since you made my stuffy
ol’ boyfriend here happy, I’ll go $20 for both. Final offer.”

“Deal.” The man’s shoulders relax and he wipes his
brow, taking the money from Laney’s hand quickly, then backing away. “Good luck,
son,” he says to me.

“What’d you get, babe?” she asks me, unfazed by her
scuffle.

I give her lips a light kiss because she’s just too
fucking adorable not to. “It’s a surprise. What’d
you
buy, hardass?”

“These two tables! You grab one, I’ll grab the
other. And be careful with the legs, they’re antique.”

“Laney,” I mock disgust, one hand to my chest, “did
you just swindle that dear sweet grandpa out of his antiques?”

“Listen, if you put your stuff out for sale, you’re
asking for negotiations. I simply took his invitation and negotiated.”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re kind of scary?”

“You’re not scared of me.” She lifts one of the
tables and starts to walk to the truck, turning back to me with a brilliant
smile. “That’s all that matters.”

I’m a lot of things when it comes to Laney, mostly
fascinated (more so every day), but definitely not scared.

W
hen the back of her truck can’t hold one more
thing, we call it a day. All I bought was the book, which I got to take with
me, and a $3 broken vase, which I got to pay for and sweep up. Some crabby old
bitch thought I was making a move for a picture she wanted and dive bombed me.
I swear her dangling upper arm knocked the vase off, but I’d pay $3 time and
again to get the hell out of there. Now
she
was scary.

And Laney… Ms. Thang got a dinette set, two end
tables, a nightstand for her room, a huge box of dishes, a TV, and several
knick knacks (something else Laney taught me about today) for $87! Yes, that’s
under $100! Under $90 even. And it’s all pretty nice stuff.

I am in total awe of her right now. I’m certainly
able to appreciate the value in paying less for something, and it actually turned
out to be a lot of fun.  It was kinda like a treasure hunt, never knowing what we’d
find next.

Once all her new purchases are cleaned up and in
her house, it still looks like she got robbed. There are a lot of items still
on her list and money still left in her pocket, so we have to fill in the stuff
we couldn’t find in people’s lawns.

“A deal’s a deal, baby,” I announce.  “I get to buy
the rest now, right?”

“Well, I had an idea, like a new, improved deal.”
She smiles, batting her eyelashes and rubbing herself against me. “How about if
you buy some stuff and I’ll work it off at the gym? Rather than pay me, Tate
can pay you back what I earn.”

I love that she loves me for
anything
other
than my money, but enough is enough. I’m tired of her fighting me every step of
the way just so I can help her furnish her place. I finally have her time and
I’m sure as hell not sharing with the gym. The hundred dollars she’d clear
isn’t worth the many hours she’d have to be gone to earn it.  

“How about if we get you a damn bed already and
worry about it later?” I suggest.  “If you want to keep a tab, go right ahead,
and we’ll figure something out.”

“Promise you’ll let me pay it back?”

“Somehow, yes, I promise.”

Infinite possibilities.

Chapter 9

~Laney~

J
udgment Day. May the best decorator win!
Our judges are Tate, Bennett and the elusive Sawyer Landon Beckett, who we’d
finally gotten to show his face. He’s not talking, and we’re not asking,
skirting around his somber mood until he’s ready to share. Zach, Evan and
Whitley are still at Parker’s farm, and Dane boycotted my absentee ballot plan.
Something about not appreciating the ambience of his room unless you’re
in
it.

I called him Nancy again, cause
ambience
,
really? Oh, and because he attacks me and shows me he’s not a Nancy when I say
it. Win-win.

So, we let the three of them into the room I did
first, known to them simply as Room One. (Except for Bennett, but that’s our
little secret.) The walls are light purple, or Champagne Elegance, and all the
trim is now bright white. The solitary window has billowy, floor length sage
green drapes that match the leaves on the bedspread. The bed itself is a thing
of beauty; queen-sized mahogany wood with four tall posts and tons of different
purple, green and beige pillows. It’s my favorite part of the room by far.

The dresser is the same wood as the bed, purchased
as a set, and the nightstand I got for a steal is a close match. Atop them both
are groups of candles and assorted brown picture frames with shots of Dane and me,
as well as the Crew. Two sage accent rugs line the floor and the walls each
have abstract art pictures, one of which I swiped from the hall at my dad’s
house and have absolutely no fear he’ll ever notice or care.

I couldn’t love the space any more if I tried. It’s
tranquil and just feminine enough, plus, the minute I walk inside, I feel
lighter somehow. This is the first time Dane’s seen it, of course, and he looks
at me from the corner of his eye and winks.

He likes it.

And as crazy as it sounds, that makes me feel like
I’ve already won.

When the trio of judges have seen enough, we move
to Room Two. I try not to gasp out loud, lest revealing that obviously Dane did
it if I haven’t seen it either, but it’s hard not to as I am truly taken aback.
I should have expected nothing less than tasteful beauty from my man, and he’s
delivered tenfold.

He chose a light blue for the walls, and a fresh,
crisp white for the trim as well, really making the blue color pop. The bed we
chose for this room, assuming it will be Sawyer’s, is a California king sleigh
bed in a light pine. The dresser and nightstand match and there’s one big,
light brown rug on the floor.

I would have already said the room has a light,
airy, beachy feel to it, but the pièce de résistance really drives that message
home. It takes my breath away, and will undoubtedly win him this competition—a
bookshelf now standing tall against the wall by the closet door. I don’t know
when or how, but I know he wouldn’t cheat, meaning Dane made it with his own
two hands. The bookcase is light pine and magnificent, shaped like a canoe with
four little shelves.

For a moment, I let myself imagine him, shirtless
and sweaty, running his nimble fingers up and down the wood, intricately
carving each piece, mastering it much like his fingers master everything they
touch. This time it’s me that steals a peek, and Dane is already looking back
at me, searching my eyes for approval.

He never ceases to amaze me; brilliant, kind,
funny, a musician…and now he’s freakin’ Geppetto! I would never have guessed he
was a woodcarver, never mind a talented one.

“Very nice,” I mouth, pointing at the shelf.

He raises his brow in question. “You like?” he
mouths back.

I nod slowly, again thinking about how hot this man
is, so full of hidden talents. “Can I have one?”

“Of course, baby.” Our silent conversation continues
with another one of his winks that buckle my knees.

“We’ve decided!” Bennett intrudes into “our little
world” and we both look at her. “The vote was two to one, and the winner is…”
she keeps us waiting for what must be a full minute, “this one, room two.”

Dane deserved the win, without a doubt. I couldn’t
be more proud.

“Congratulations,” I tell him, giving him a big
hug. “It’s beautiful.”

“Your room is gorgeous, baby,” he leans in and
whispers in my ear, “I can’t wait to christen it with you.”

“Please tell me you didn’t build that shelf with my
dad’s saw,” I mumble into his chest, only sort of joking.

“I didn’t,” he assures me with a laugh, “I bought
my own. Why don’t you go over there and see what book is on it?”

That’s right, I did see a book on the shelf. I
thought it was just a prop for the judging display. I walk over and pick it up,
four sets of eyes on me. If I wrote a book, I’d write Dane exactly how he is,
unbelievable. I wouldn’t have to exaggerate or embellish—he’s really that good
on his own.

It’s an old copy of
Winnie the Pooh
. I turn
around, weepy-eyed, clutching the book to my chest. I adore it. “This is mine,
right?”

They all chuckle at me simultaneously, but Dane
steps forward. “Yeah, baby, it’s yours. My first ever garage sale purchase.
Another first that’s just ours.”

I nod, understanding the depth of his statement.
Sometimes I wish I was all the firsts to him that he is to me, well, one in
particular, but there are still so many he chooses to give me. The really
special ones that go beyond physical experimentation and creep into your soul
and stay there, are just for us. Perfection.

“I’ll treasure it,” I whisper, walking back into
his arms, soaking up his scent. I wish I could bottle it and spritz myself
sporadically throughout the day.

“Okay,” Sawyer pipes up, breaking the mood. “As
real as this has been, I gotta go. We done here?”

“Where you need to be so badly? Would it kill you
to spend some time with your friends?” Tate’s voice is menacing, which is
completely unlike him, but honestly, we’ve all been worried about Sawyer. “You’re
like a ghost lately.”

“I got shit to do. I don’t keep tabs on you, do I?”
See—this is the weird part. Sawyer’s never hateful, he’s just not himself these
days.

“Saw,” I move to him and place a hand on his arm, “we
just miss you, that’s all. You’re still moving in, right? This can be your
room. We got you a king bed.”

“Ah, Gidge.” His hardened glare dissolves now and I
get a slight smile. “You’re the best. Where’d he find you?” he says where only
I can hear it against my hair as he kisses the top of my head. “I’ll be moved
in by the time school starts back, okay?”

“Ok,” I murmur, wishing desperately that he’d talk
to me. I love Sawyer dearly, and I’d move mountains or die trying to make sure
he’s happy—we all would. I just wish he’d tell us what’s going on.  “Are you
going to Parker’s wedding with us?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He looks at Dane. “I’ll ride
with you guys?”

“Of course, bud,” Dane affirms with a jerk of his
head. “And I worked my ass off on this room for you. Get moved into it.”

I have no idea when Tate and Bennett crept out, but
it’s just the three of us now, and I can tell by tension in the air before I
even check their body language—Dane’s going in for the kill and Sawyer’s
defenses are coming up.

“You know you can come to me with anything. You
need something, I need to know.” Dane crosses his arms over his chest and
widens his stance.

Oh yeah, like that’s gonna work. He can do that
too, babe…have you seen Sawyer?

“Appreciate it, bro, I do, but there’s nothing you
need
to fix. I don’t need to be mothered.”

“Yeah, how about needing to be friended? Where you
been staying?” The veins in Dane’s neck and forehead are all on display now.

“CJ’s,” Sawyer answers, voice getting louder.

Wow, it got really uncomfortable in here really
fast and I have no idea why. It’s not like he’s got track marks up and down his
arms or anything, so there’s no need for
that
kind of intervention. I
think maybe we all just need to calm down.

“Dane,” I attempt to mediate. “Saw…”

“Baby,” Dane speaks to me now, keeping his temper
in check, but barely. The storm in his eyes and hard set of his jaw are scary,
quite frankly. “Can you go find Bennett and see if they want to go to dinner
with us?”

I’m being dismissed, but I don’t care. Doesn’t take
a rocket scientist to know I want out of this room. “S-sure,” I falter, giving
Sawyer a questioning glance.

He chuckles. “We’re fine, Gidge. I’ll be moved in soon,
k?”

I nod and hustle out of the room and all the way to
Bennett’s door, knocking feverishly.

“Come in,” she says brightly, but then quickly
notices my face. “What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Tate?”

“Tate!” she yells, clutching my shoulders. “Laney,
what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, but Dane wanted me to leave.” I look
up as Tate walks in. “Oh, Tate, hey, can you go next door? Dane and Sawyer are—I
don’t know—something about CJ’s and Dane told me to—”

“Shit,” he mutters. “Yeah, I got it.”

“What is CJ’s? What’s going on?” Bennett asks me
after Tate runs out.

“I have no idea, but Dane isn’t happy about it and
Sawyer’s annoyed about being called out and they didn’t want me there. I don’t
want them fighting or anything.” I bite my nails worriedly.

I’m probably overreacting. Dane and Sawyer would
never really fight, but damn if I didn’t feel like a spectator to something
ugly watching the two of them throwing off testosterone and evil glares like
lions circling the one female left in the whole damn jungle.

“Stop!” Bennett pulls my hand from my mouth. “It’ll
be fine. Tate will calm them down.”

She’s right. Tate’s the counselor and he’ll mediate
and everyone will calm down and go about their day, but there’s a story there.
And we have this unspoken rule in the Crew that we don’t air each other’s dirty
laundry, so I’m gonna have to get it out of Sawyer.