Page 198 of Just One Little Bargain

She almost smiles, then thinks better of it. “I want that story later.”

“Later?” I hate how hopeful I sound. I take the last careful step between us. I could reach for her now, but don’t. My hands remain at my sides even though every instinct I have is begging me to touch her. “Does that mean I can stay? I’d like the chance to start again without contracts or clocks.”

“I did miss you,” she says, so quietly I almost think I imagined it. “A lot, actually, which is inconvenient because I’m still really pissed at you.”

Relief hits hard enough that I have to remind myself not to pull her into my arms. “Both can be true.”

“I know.” She glances toward the inn, where light spills from the kitchen windows. “That doesn’t mean I’m suddenly fine with you deciding for me. We have a lot to sort out.”

“That’s more than okay with me.”

“And I want to see if this works without all the supernatural drama attached to it.”

“I can do normal. I’m excellent at normal now. Aggressively, inconveniently normal.”

Her lips twitch, and she doesn’t quite manage to hide it. “I mean actual dates, Milo. Figuring out whether this works when neither of us is under time pressure.”

“I would like that very much.”

“Good. Because I want it too.”

“There is one small practical issue.”

Her eyes narrow. “How small?”

“Depending on your definition, potentially several. I have no money, identification, bank account, legal address, and professional qualifications.”

Evie stares at me.

“I also need a job.”

She laughs, warm and incredulous, and for the first time since I left Hell, I stop bracing for her to send me away.

“You’re unbelievable.”

I’m more nervous about this question than I was when I asked the Tribunal to remove my immortality. “If you still need help at Foxglove, I’d like to work here. Properly this time. For money. I understand that’s generally how employment functions.”

“Good start.”

“I’m also going to need somewhere to stay until I can afford something of my own.”

One eyebrow rises. “Anything else?”

“Probably quite a lot. I’ve spent less than a month functioning as anything close to a normal adult human, and most of that time you were stopping me from putting metal in the microwave and explaining why I couldn’t reorganize guest records by emotional impression.”

“Because that was insane.”

“I still think it had merit.”

“It didn’t.”

“Regardless, I’m going to need someone to explain taxes, health insurance, identification, banking, employment forms, and apparently several kinds of laundry detergent.” I grin. “You’re, unfortunately for you, the most competent person I know.”

Evie chuckles. “So your grand plan after leaving Hell is to make me your life administrator?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a trusted mortal consultant.”

“That sounds worse.”