Paper Bride ✔️ (Book 4 - DP Series - COMPLETE)

40. Little Hands

I've already got the two end tables stuffed into the backseat of my car as I make my way to Steve's antique shop. It's the last thing I have to check off of my to-do list for today and I'm anxious to be done with it all. I just want to curl up on the couch as we watch "The Descent" alone in the dark while I chew on overly salted popcorn and guzzle endless pints of beer.

Scratch that. Let's make it whiskey. Now that my secret is out, there's no reason to hold back anymore. I can slurp back whiskey at any time I want. I'm not sure what kept me from doing so before. Maybe it was the pleasure of having a secret, something that only I knew about, but I don't have that privilege anymore and I plan to take full advantage of that fact. After a day like today, I'll definitely be needing something a hint stronger than just your average beer.

I parallel park like a true ten-year-old and then swing my door open. I peer up at the sign of Steve's shop and heave a tired sigh. Here we go.

I pull one end table from the backseat and waddle my way towards the entrance of the store. With much difficulty and much bumping around, I finally manage to get inside. Thankfully, the piece of furniture remains flawless when I finally present it to Steve.

He's crouched down at a small shelf using an old rag to dust off a collection of little wooden frogs. Those things have been around since before my great-grandma Harriet. They're ancient and they're only going to grow older as we watch them collect dust until the termites take over and eat out their insides. Sounds brutal, but I have no doubt that will be their fate. They're ugly little things and they deserve to be eaten...

Which is why I tap Steve on the shoulder, hand him a five, and adopt the little critters right then and there. I can't bear to watch them wither into dust. Now they're mine and I will love them as much as a person can love a useless object.

"Mercy!" Steve says as he hesitantly takes the money from my outstretched hand, surprised to find me in his shop. "What are you doing here?"

"Three reasons," I say, walking to the front counter to grab a bag and then returning to Steve's side to drop the small frogs inside. "Firstly, these are mine now." I indicate the small carved frogs with a wiggle of my eyebrows in their direction. "Secondly, I've delivered the side tables."

"Delivered them?" He stands as he says this, clearly shocked that I'd do such a thing. "Mercy, you didn't have to do that. I would have gladly come to collect them as normal."

"No biggie," I say, waving off his concern.

"Can I see them?"

I just nod, and then step to the side to give him a full view of the end table behind me. I watch his eyes scan the designs I've woven into the hard lumbar and wait for his response. As always, he's pleased. Very pleased. So pleased that he swivels around and grabs me up in his arms, giving me an extremely generous—if not inappropriate—hug. I just stand there in his hold, very much uncomfortable with this predicament. Touchy people bother me... a lot.

I have to hide a visible shiver when he finally releases me from his hold. I feel violated. To most that would have appeared to be the most grateful, platonic hug on the face of the earth. But to me, the girl who's allergic to all human contact—apart from a carefully selected few—it was like letting someone nibble on my earlobe. Inappropriate and disgusting. Steve should understand my repulsion to touchiness by now. I shy away from every friendly gesture he's ever attempted. It just so happens that today he caught me entirely off guard. I'll have to spend an extra twenty minutes in the shower tonight scrubbing him off my body.

I feel angry.

I'm too lazy to have to deal with Steve and his cooties.

Breathing out a sigh in order to conceal my irritation, I just motion with my hand for him to follow me. Without a word, I swivel on my heel and head toward the entrance. Steve trails behind me, muttering about work. While it appears that I'm not listening to a single word, I'm actually paying close attention to every word he says. Just because he annoys me doesn't mean he isn't a decent person. He doesn't deserve my rude behavior, but I just can't help it. When he invades my personal bubble, I get mad.