Page 25 of Just One Little Bargain

Maddie’s eyebrows achieve new heights. “Okay, that’s significantly worse than anticipated. Most guys come in here moaning about a forgotten anniversary. You went straight to potential felony charges.”

“It was accidental.”

“You accidentally showed up at someone’s house uninvited? At night?” She doesn’t sound convinced.

“The circumstances were . . .” What’s a word that means a cat used a novelty spirit board and accidentally summoned me from another dimension? “Unusual.”

“I bet they were.” She’s studying me again with sharp hazel eyes. “You’re not actually dangerous though, right?”

“No.” I consider this. “Not really. I can’t even pull off intimidating.”

“Good.” She nods once, decisively. “Because if you were, we’d be having a very different conversation involving the aluminum bat I keep beneath the register.” Her easy smile resurfaces. “Okay. Here’s what you do. Apologize. Actually explain what happened, even if it sounds weird. Give her room to process without crowding her. And whatever else you do, don’t show up unannounced again. That one’s non-negotiable.”

“That’s good advice.”

“I’m full of those. It’s my primary marketable skill.” She grabs another glass to polish. “What sort of work are you in, anyway?”

Contract negotiation. Soul acquisition. Demonic bargains through accidental feline summoning. How do I phrase this without sounding unhinged?

“It’s complicated.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it keeps being true.”

“Fair enough.” She shrugs, and the silver-white pieces framing her face shift against the dark waves, revealing the pale underlayer beneath. “Well, good luck with your complicated business transaction.” She shakes her head and walks over to help another customer, who’s waving an empty glass.

Every drink in this room is beer, whiskey, or some brown liquor served without ceremony in a short glass. I glance down at my Cosmopolitan. It practically glows against the scarred wood of the bar.

At least everyone here is dressed more or less exactly the way I chose to dress when I was trying to pass as human and approachable. Worn denim, work boots, sun-cracked hands, faded baseball caps, and flannels dulled from countless washes.

This town seems to exist in a comfortable time pocket where my outdated fashion sense reads as normal instead of fifteen years behind. If I’d chosen the suit and tie from the field manual, which demons wear for formal contract negotiations, I would’ve gotten strange looks before I even reached the bar.

Still. The Cosmo situation is not ideal.

I wrap both hands around the stem of the glass in a doomed attempt to make it less visible, which only succeeds in making me appear deeply protective of it.

The man next to me has forearms the size of my thighs and has been stealing glances at my drink for the past minute. I prepare myself for whatever comment is coming.

“That a Cosmo?”

“Yes.” I make myself look him in the eye.

He considers this, rubbing a rough hand over his jaw. “My wife makes those at home sometimes. I always drink hers when she’s not looking.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Never been brave enough to order one. I figured Maddie would engrave it on my headstone.”

My shoulders relax. “It’s great.”

“Good for you, though. Someone had to go first.” He sounds wistful about it. Then he catches himself and takes a very masculine swig of his beer, as if to compensate. “Anyway. Welcome to town.”

He clinks his pint against my martini glass without me asking, then goes back to watching the pool game.

When Maddie swings around, she glances between us, her eyes narrowing. “Are you corrupting my regulars?”

“No, ma’am.” I shake my head hard enough to knock my glasses crooked.

Why did I say ma’am? She’s roughly my age. The guy next to me coughs into his fist in a way that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

Maddie mercifully moves on. “While I was pouring the world’s most boring beer order, I had a thought about your girl problem.”