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“You haven’t stopped grinning.”
“Shut up,” I said, and grinned harder.
Victor Albacore lived in Squirrel Hill, in a brick American foursquare with a tiny hedge lining a dozen concrete steps to the porch.
No rail in sight, I helped Hunter up again, noting his slight unease. Maybe twice in one day was too much.
“Thought you said you didn’t mind people helping?” I murmured.
His shoulders tensed.
“Am I doing it wrong?”
The grin he gave was pure plastic and it hurt to witness it. “It’s fine.”
I rang the doorbell, muttering. “Whatever.”
Hunter opened his mouth to reply, but the door opening had him slamming his mouth shut. Or maybe it was the familiar dark-haired woman in yoga pants and tank top.
I blinked. “Hannah?”
Her expression mirrored ours: total surprise with some hard wtf brow creases.
A notable scowl twitched at her lips when she saw me. The last time she’d seen me, I’d been tossing wine over Hunter.
I ignored a guilty pull at my gut. “What are you doing here?”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Me? What are you doing at my uncle’s house?”
Hunter scrubbed his jaw and laughed. “May we come in? We’ll explain everything.”
We explained that we wanted to interview Victor Albacore for an article. He wasn’t in.
We sat in a bright room surrounded by antique furniture and porcelain vases, muffins resting on floral plates. It would be warm and cozy if Hannah stopped frowning at me.
“You’re really friends?” she asked Hunter again, as if his first answer had been given under duress.
“Yeah.” Hunter pried off the top of his lemon muffin while I tried drilling a hole into mine with my gaze.
She glanced my way and I cracked, foot jiggling under the table. “We met anonymously online. He saved my ass from a Kalvaleth demon’s poison and has been saving me ever since.”
Hannah sank deeper into her cushion-backed chair. “Huh—”
“He’s funny, he makes me laugh. He calls me out on my shit.”
Hunter gave my thigh a comforting squeeze under the table. I stopped jiggling.
Hannah nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ve tried to figure out what’s wrong with him. Something gross or fucked up, but he’s never once stuck his finger up his nose or smiled crookedly while holding a sharp knife. The only thing he lacks is common sense.” I tapped my chest. “He seems to like me back.”
Hunter rubbed my thigh and met Hannah’s eye. “It’s like this: I don’t mind holding his baggage, and so far, he doesn’t mind holding mine.”
I stared at Hunter’s soft smile and . . . felt itchy inside. Kind of pissed off, too, because if he meant that, surely he wouldn’t have thrown up that fake grin outside?
Hannah bowed her head. “God, sorry I’m being so rude.”
I cleared my throat. Moving on. “How well do you know your uncle?”
“Pretty well. Actually, he’s my great uncle and he helped raising my mum. I come here every second weekend.” She paused. “What do you want to interview him about?”
“We think he used to be in a relationship with Kyle Gable Green in the seventies.”
Her chair skated over tile as she stood sharply. “How do you know that?” She flushed and resumed her seat, hard, gaze darting away from us. “I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
So. Victor Albacore was definitely our V.A., and Hannah was a terrible actress.
Squirrelly excitement had me bouncing my foot again.
“Look,” Hannah said tightly, giving in, “all I know is that they had a past and their friendship broke apart.”
“It was more than friendship,” I said. We’d left the letters in the van, unsure whether it was our place to pass them on to Victor.
Hannah’s breath hopped on a sigh. “That’s why you crashed the alumni party?”
“Pretty much,” I said.
“He’s not here until tomorrow. I’m house sitting.” She glanced at her phone. “Actually, I have to hurry to my yoga class, so . . .”
I peered down the hall as she ushered us toward the door. “Uh, could I use your bathroom?”
Hannah gestured around the corner. “Two doors on the right.”
Hunter engaged Hannah in jovial-sounding conversation while I peeked around. The study held particular interest, especially the framed picture of our gazebo.
My gaze snagged on a second photo of Victor and Hannah. I recognized the man as the one I’d plowed into exiting the gallery at the alumni party.
He and Kyle had been in close proximity.
I rejoined Hunter and Hannah, who both looked at me like they knew I’d been up to no good. “Nice place. Seriously nice.”
“Yeah,” Hannah agreed, squinting at me. “Super nice, and super cheap.”
I ignored her knowing look, grinned, and continued to bullshit.
Back in the van, Hunter wore an amused, disbelieving look. “What did you find out?”
“Was my sleuthing really that obvious?”
He started the engine. “At least you flushed the toilet for appearance’s sake.”
“Oh, I actually had to go.”
He shook his head, smiling. “And the chit-chat on rentals?”
