Page 124 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

Milo crouched beside him. “So it took the bait without setting off the trap?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Grievance examined the cage. “I don’t know.”

Milo narrowed his eyes. “You built these.”

“With your design.”

Milo gasped at the accusation. “Are you blaming my design? I’ll have you know I’m a master craftsman.”

Grievance snorted and ignored his mock offense. “I’m saying perhaps the creature is clever.”

Milo poked his shoulder. “You’re no fun.”

Grievance fixed him with an exasperated look.

“Your body is currently paying the price of my fun side. So let’s keep things tame for today. Sound good, my darling?”

Milo knew he only said it to tease him, but he couldn’t help the warmth that bloomed in his chest at the sweet endearment.

The second trap was exactly the same. Empty cage. Missing bait. Untouched trigger.

Milo threw his hands into the air.

“How is this thing getting past our traps?”

“Perhaps it has very long arms.”

Milo looked at the trap, then at the ground around it. There were no tracks, though that hardly meant anything when the snow responsible for making them melted away almost as quickly as it appeared.

“You think?” Milo crouched, trying to picture it. “I suppose that might work. If it stuck a hand through from this angle and…” He tilted his head, studying the mechanism. He arched his arm over his head, contorting. “It would have to have thumbs to—” He stopped.

Milo slowly looked over his shoulder. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Never.”

He totally is.

Milo narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you really think? The long arms? Or are you messing with me?”

“I would never do such a thing.”

Yes, he fucking would.

Milo rose and stalked closer, stopping when they were nearly chest to chest. Grievance still insisted on wearing that damn black vest, which did nothing to hide his thick, tattooed arms.

“You know, this is a very important mission. Hobbs is counting on us. The very fate of Pumpkin Hollow rests in our hands.” Milo delivered this proclamation with all the solemn gravity of a witch announcing the end of days.

“Of course.” Grievance nodded, barely holding back a grin. “Very serious.”

“Extremely.”

“Whatever would become of us without the annual butchery of Toil & Trouble?”

Milo’s mouth fell open. “Butchery?”