Kiss the Girl (Naughty Princess Club 3)

It’s strange having someone so interested in what I’m telling them and taking part by interacting with the booth owners as we move down the row. My family, as much as I love them, just didn’t get my obsession with antiques or why in the world I would ever want a store filled with, as Eric put it, someone else’s junk. And I purposely kept this part of myself hidden from Sebastian because I knew he would find a way to ruin it.

With Eric, I find it hard to keep my mouth shut and my excitement to a minimum, because he actually cares. He’s actually paying attention to the things I tell him, and even though it’s not his thing, he’s listening, because he knows it’s important to me. When we get to a booth filled with jewelry, he doesn’t even ask, he just digs into my purse, grabs the loupe out of the bag, and goes to work studying everything on the table, letting out a frustrated breath when he doesn’t find anything with the correct markings.

It’s adorable. It’s endearing. And it’s making me think I could really love this man if I let my guard down enough.

“Why you filthy, filthy liar!” Eric suddenly shouts, pulling me out of my thoughts to find him holding up the magnet with a silver necklace dangling down from it. “My magnet says this isn’t silver. My magnet never lies!”

The poor elderly man sitting in a chair behind the table of the booth, next to a sign that advertises antique Victorian silver cameo necklaces from the 1800s, looks at Eric like he’s insane, and I can’t help but laugh.

“This man is a fraud! Do not buy his silver jewelry! It’s not really silver! THE MAGNET HAS SPOKEN!” Eric shouts, holding up the little magnet in his hand with the necklace swinging from it, turning around to show the crowd of people walking by who are also looking at him like he’s crazy.

“Put it on the chain,” I tell him, trying really hard to keep in my laughter.

“Sorry, I’m busy right now, Ariel. I’m ridding the world of a flea market fraud!”

Reaching up, I grab his arm and yank it down, pulling the magnet and necklace out of his hand.

“You have to use it on the chain,” I tell him again, turning around to the table and gently laying the necklace on top of it.

I press the magnet to the chain part of the necklace and it doesn’t stick. Then, I slide the magnet up until it gets to the clasp, and it jumps up from the table and attaches itself to the magnet.

“What kind of sorcery is this?” Eric whispers loudly, his body pressed right up against my back as he looks over my shoulder.

“You were using the magnet on the clasp, not the actual silver. Clasps are susceptible to corrosion and breakage, especially something like this, from so long ago. Dealers will usually have the clasp replaced so the necklace can still be worn, therefore making it worth more money,” I explain to him, shoving the magnet back into my purse.

“Well, this is awkward,” Eric mutters, looking at the man behind the table apologetically. “Sorry about that. I’m new at this. Also, I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I might be a little hangry.”

Moving away from the booth, we head over to the food section of the flea market, which is also another reason I love this place. The food area is nothing but row after row of food trucks, serving everything you could imagine.

We quickly agree on the taco truck, and when we get up to the counter and I ask for two, Eric tells the man running the truck I’ll have five, orders ten for himself, along with four orders of chips and salsa. If I were here with Sebastian right now, he would have told the man I’d have one and turned down the chips and salsa, listing the fat content while reminding me I’d need to go to the gym to work off that one taco.

I hate that I’m still comparing everything Eric does to Sebastian, but it’s hard not to. Especially since Sebastian has already sent me three texts so far today, two since I’ve been here.

“You’re amazing,” Eric tells me around a mouthful of taco when we’re seated across from each other at a picnic table by the food trucks.

“Because I just inhaled two tacos before you even finished one?”

He laughs, shoveling the rest of the taco into his mouth in one huge bite and then quickly tearing into another. He chews for a few seconds and then speaks again.

“Because you’re so passionate about all this stuff,” he replies, sweeping his arm out in the direction of the tents. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that passionate about anything in my entire life. Present company excluded.”