Page 11 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

I picked out a giant star that had little treat compartments for hiding treats. Then I grabbed a set of wooden boxes that had little drawers and openings they had to figure out if they wanted to find the hidden treats. There was also a new style of ball, with an opening that dispensed small morsels if they pushed it around. After looking over everything, my arms were full when I reached the register.

Agnes, with her dark curly hair, bronze skin, and the best smile, laughed when she saw my haul. Apparently she and Frank had been running this shop for nearly thirty years. A dream of theirs when they first moved to Redding.

“Those cuties are going to have some fun this weekend.”

“You better believe it! I’ve got so much grading to do, I’ll need to keep them occupied.”

“Well, this will definitely do it.” She began ringing me up. I pulled a couple canvas totes from the side pocket of my messenger bag. By the time we were finished, I had my arms full.

Instead of dropping by The Roost, I went straight home. I was too excited to hold back my gifts.

I let my buns out of their enclosure. Then set both bags on the floor and began unpacking. Curious things that they were, the buns started sniffing everything.

Once I got them set up with the puzzle star, I set my stuff out on the dining table and got to work grading, hoping I wouldn’t hear from Ambrose again for a good long while.

I was wrong.

The first text from an unknown number hit my phone Saturday morning.

This time, I was sitting in The Roost at my favorite table.

Unknown Number

Ignoring me won’t make this go away, Rebecca.

My heart spiked and I promptly blocked the number. But an hour later, a text from a different number arrived.

Unknown Number

Your parents want you home. You’re being irresponsible.

I blocked that number too. And then the next, and the next, as I grew more agitated. His messages swung between aggressive and placating.

Unknown Number

There’s still time to accept the post doc position at WU. I pulled some strings.

I slammed my phone on the table facedown. An entire morning wasted. How was I supposed to concentrate on my grading?

It was infuriating.

Iris was cleaning the table next to mine. She looked up at the sound of my phone. “Everything okay?”

“Just dealing with…” I hesitated. It was on the tip of my tongue to brush things off. But I wasn’t sure I should be closed off to people when I was trying to make friends. Iris had been nothing but kind. “An ex—sort of.”

“Ugh. Been there. Well, I can’t say what yours is like. But mine was just awful—my most recent, I mean.”

“Oh?” My brows pulled together.

“Yeah. I dated this guy I met on a dating app. He lives down in Ashton. The commute was annoying, and he turned out to be such a spoiled, pretentious dick.”

I groaned. “Yeah, I can kinda relate to that.”

“You know…” She hesitated. “I’m free later if you want to come by and hang out. We can open a bottle of wine. Bemoan our exes. All that.”

I wanted to accept. It sounded like the perfect medicine after fending off Ambrose. Then I glanced down at the stack of papers on the table and winced. “If I didn’t have like fifty-gazillion assignments to grade, I would absolutely take you up on that.”

“Already elbows deep, huh?”