Page 61 of Just One Little Bargain

“BY ACCIDENT.”

“Still counts, contractually speaking.”

“Oh, does it? Is that supposed to make me feel better? That the infernal bureaucracy recognizes my cat’s contribution to the summoning process?”

“I’m just stating the technical framework.”

“Well, the technical framework can . . .” I run out of words, heat burning from my collarbones to my hairline with the particular fury reserved for someone being unreasonable and also correct. Because I can’t find a single argument that solves the actual problem: how to run the Foxglove alone on one foot.

He looks up at me through his glasses, hopeful and infuriatingly patient while he waits for me to finish being angry.

Then, a throat clears in the hallway and we both freeze.

Chapter 17

Evie

My mother stands in the kitchen doorway, a cardigan draped over her shoulders and a grocery tote hanging from her arm. Her hazel eyes, so much like my own, widen at the sight of us.

“Mom.”

“Evie, sweetheart.” She steps fully into the kitchen, attention bouncing between me and Milo, who’s still kneeling at my feet with a face the color of a ripe strawberry. “Doctor Devereaux said you were fine, but I needed to see for myself. And apparently, I should’ve called first.”

Heat floods my face. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Really?” Mom tilts her head. “Because from where I’m standing, you have a very cute guy on his knees in your kitchen. Which, for the record, is exactly the kind of thing a mother dreams about walking in on.”

“Mom.”

“What?”

Milo scrambles upright so fast the ice pack slips from his grip and hits the tile with a wet smack.

“Milo.” He thrusts out his free hand, realizes it’s damp from the cold compress, yanks it back, wipes it on his jacket, and extends it again. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” She laughs, delighted. “Oh, honey, no. That makes me sound ancient. Just Rose.”

“Rose. Sorry.” His flush deepens as he looks at me, desperate for help.

“Don’t apologize. Polite is good.” She turns to me with barely suppressed glee. “Where have you been hiding him?”

“I haven’t been hiding anyone.”

“Then why is this the first I’m hearing about him?” She sets the grocery bag on the counter with a decisive thud. “I brought food. Figured you wouldn’t want to cook.”

Relief loosens the knot between my shoulder blades. “Thanks. That’s really helpful.”

“Of course. That’s what moms do.” She glances at Milo. “So you and Evie . . .”

Panic spikes through me, and I glance at him to find the same desperation reflected in his pale eyes.

“We’re friends,” I blurt out. “Thanks for coming by, but it’s a sprained ankle. There was absolutely no reason for Doctor Devereaux to call you.”

She scoffs. “He said I should check on you. Make sure you were doing okay.”

“Of course he did,” Milo says under his breath.

“There’s zero reason for anyone to check in on me,” I press on. “Iced, wrapped, elevated. I’m doing exactly what I was told.”