Dating and Dragons (Dungeons and Drama, #2) (24)

A very loud doorbell rings, interrupting our conversation. Grandma inclines her head toward the door with a self-satisfied smile. “Why don’t you get that, dear.”

I’d convinced myself that Logan wouldn’t show. Surely he’d find an excuse to get out of this. I mean, come on, I’ve been searching for excuses and she’s my grandmother. But when I open the door, there he is.

One look at him and my pulse quickens like the traitor it is. He’s wearing Sloane’s crocheted hat. I figured he’d throw it in the back of a closet, particularly since it’s too large and the stitches aren’t quite right. But instead of looking dorky, the hat is utterly charming on him. The gray-blue color matches his eyes perfectly, just like I thought it would, and it’s slouched so a few pieces of hair are still visible across his forehead.

He steps inside and unzips his coat to reveal his standard outfit—an unbuttoned flannel shirt over a T-shirt. This one is red and black and looks as cozy as a blanket. I bet it’s soft flannel too. My fingers twitch to feel it and I want to kick myself.

“Hey, Quinn.”

“You remembered to come.”

“Of course I did.” He tilts his head. “Were you hoping I wouldn’t?”

Luckily Grandma comes down the hall then, so I don’t have to answer. “There he is!” she exclaims.

“Happy to help.” He hands her a brown paper bag I hadn’t noticed.

“You brought me sherbet?” she cries in delight as she looks inside. “What a gentleman!”

“Did you bring me ice cream too?”

“Sorry, but I only bring ice cream to people who are happy to see me,” he replies quietly. “I wasn’t convinced you would be, and it looks like my suspicions were right.”

“All right, let me show you where the attic entrance is,” Grandma says, and leads us through the house.

Logan walks slowly, taking in the rooms as we pass through them. There’s a lot to see. Grandpa died before I was born, and ever since, Grandma has traveled all over Europe, Asia, and South Africa, usually by herself. Mom and Dad were never exactly sure how she could afford it, but Grandma has a way of making friends with people who have extra bedrooms where she can stay. Now her house is chock-full of collectibles. If my parents actually get her to downsize, it’s going to be a herculean effort to pack all this up.

Unfortunately, I notice that her movements are slower and less steady than they were when we’d come for visits the last few years. All this clutter means more places where she could trip and fall. She heads up the stairs, gripping the hand railing tightly. This is one of the biggest problems Dad has with the house—Grandma has to go up and down a flight of stairs throughout the day to go to the bedrooms or to use the bathroom. Plus there are basement stairs if she wants to do laundry or get something from her deep freezer. Her house is beautiful, but it was built for younger people.

“Your house is amazing,” Logan says as if he’s reading my thoughts. “Where did you get all this?”

“From everywhere. None of it is worth much, but I had fun collecting it. Henry—that was my husband—called me his dragon because I always liked adding to my hoard.”

“He wasn’t wrong,” I say faintly.

“All of the boxes are up there.” She points to a pull-down ladder that’s recessed into the ceiling. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been up there, so I’m not sure what you’ll find, but why don’t you start by bringing down anything valuable.”

“Valuable?” Logan repeats with apprehension.

“There must be antiques shops or thrift shops that would buy some of it. Just sort through it and put aside anything that might be worth something. And you better behave yourselves up there. Although if you don’t, no one will know since I can’t climb that ladder.” She raises her eyebrows in a suggestive way and my cheeks flush with heat.

Logan shoves his hands in his pockets after Grandma has made it back safely to the first floor. “Your grandma is something else.”

“You can say that again,” I mumble. “We should get started or this will take all night.”

I let Logan climb up first because I’m wearing one of my long skirts like usual and there’s no way I’m letting him watch me climb that ladder from below. He waits for me with his arms crossed. The stance only helps to show off his chest and arms, which leaves me feeling more distracted. I’d love to get through this afternoon without embarrassing myself, but I’m not sure that’s possible.

The attic is dusty and disorganized. I turn in a slow circle, taking in the chaos. The house has a pitched roof, so we can only stand up straight in the center of the space. Boxes have been pushed to the edges, along with old Halloween and Christmas decorations, lamps, and side tables.

Logan says what I’m thinking. “This is impossible.”

“Could anything up here be valuable at all?”

“No idea.” He gingerly lifts the flap of the closest box. “Looks like that’s filled with dishes.”

“Well, we have to start somewhere. Let’s see if anything is sellable.”

“To be fair, people can sell their own saliva.”

I give him a disgusted look. “I don’t know how you know that, and I don’t want you to tell me. Just look for the coolest stuff. And maybe we should organize too?”