Page 16 of Just One Little Bargain

“No more talking! Leave my house. I’m calling the police.” I wave my phone.

“Okay.” For once, he stops arguing. “I’ll go. But the summoning still stands. I can’t undo it because you want me to.”

“Don’t come back.”

“I’m not sure I have a choice in that.”

“Out.”

He backs toward the door, and Marmalade follows at his heels, purring and rubbing against his legs until the retreat becomes absurdly awkward.

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching for the doorknob.

“Goodbye.”

“Right. Leaving.” He opens the door, then pauses. The night air rushes in, raising goosebumps along my arms. “Your place is really nice. The alphabetized spice rack is very impressive.”

I slam the door in his face.

The lock catches with a solid click. I lean against the door and press my forehead to the cool wood. The rolling pin slips from my fingers and hits the floor with a hollow thud.

Marmalade sits by the door and meows, looking up at me with accusation in his green eyes. I dial the police.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I need to report a break-in.” My voice cracks on the last word and I hate it. I sink onto the sofa, pulling Marmalade into my lap. He presses against my collarbone and purrs, and I cling to that sound, because it’s the only thing in this room that makes sense right now. “A man was in my house. He left, but . . . can you send someone?”

She confirms my address and that I’m safe, then moves into the details. I answer while staring at the spot on my floor where the stranger had sat cross-legged, petting my cat.

“Is there any sign of forced entry?”

“Of course,” I say, sharp and automatic. Then the certainty falters. “Let me check.”

I go from room to room. Kitchen window. Locked. Bathroom. Locked. Bedroom. Locked. Back door with the chain still drawn across it, the way I left it. I stand in my small hallway with all the locks accounted for and no answer for how this man appeared in the middle of my living room.

“I can’t find anything,” I tell the dispatcher. “Everything’s locked.”

“That’s alright. Officers are on their way, okay? Stay on the line. I have a couple more questions.”

I sit back on the couch and pull my knees up as Marmalade rearranges himself against my shins.

He was a man. That’s all. A tall, unhinged man, with bad boundaries . . . and a conviction that my cat summoned him from Hell. People believe stranger things. Alien abductions. Government chips planted in their fillings. Mercury retrograde crashing their car. He was one of those people. Harmless and delusional.

Years from now, this will be funny. I’ll turn it into a story with a punchline and good timing. Everyone will lose it at the rolling pin part.

The dispatcher asks me to walk her through everything again, and by the time I finish, I can’t tell which one of us thinks I’ve lost my mind more.

Chapter 6

Evie

The police lights are going to ruin my Yelp rating.

The thought arrives while I’m still pressed into the couch with Marmalade vibrating against my ribs. Red and blue strobes cut through my cottage windows, screaming crime scene or drug bust while my brain races through the damage. The cruisers are parked where the stone path connects to the inn. Which means the lights are currently washing over my herb garden, the rear porch, and worst of all, the Sunrise Room.

Someone in that room paid a hundred and forty dollars for a peaceful weekend in a charming Victorian bed and breakfast. Police lights don’t really capture that tranquil vibe.

The whole town will know by the morning. Because Brindlewood runs on gossip the way other towns run on tax revenue, and I just handed them enough material to last through Thanksgiving. Three thousand people, and not a single one of them knows how to mind their own business.