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“Careful,” I tell him. “A man holding a kitten is basically a weapon around here. Half the crowd just went weak in the knees. You’ve already taken out the front row.”

“Collateral damage.” His eyes lock on mine. “I was aiming for you.”

I’m being used as ammunition, Fish says flatly. This is a workplace violation.

This is a workplace romance! Chip squeals. Kiss her! Then feed me! Not necessarily in that order!

Put me down before the mushy stuff starts, Fish warns. I molt when I’m disgusted. Besides, it’s break time.

You know what that means, Chip yowls with delight. That means SNACKS!

Fish sniffs the air. I smell hooman drama, she observes. It’s always entertaining, so of course I approve.

“Have you been stress-eating again?” I whisper as I hoist Chip into my arms with a grunt—all fluffy bazillion pounds of him. The cat feels as if he’s lined with lead, and the extra treats I give him don’t help the cause. I dust the crumbs off his whiskers, and the crowd murmurs with delight all around us.

It’s not stress if I enjoy it, Chip says defensively.

“You’ve got a point there.” I land a quick kiss on the tip of his ear.

The party kicks back into gear as “Monster Mash” blares through the speakers, and guests start dancing near the buffet tables. The fog machines work overtime, and the twinkle lights cast everything in an eerie orange and purple glow, festive and creepy at the same time, which is exactly the mood I was going for. My marketing team calls it atmosphere. The accountant in me calls it the electric bill.

Belladonna descends from the stage, and Delora immediately waves her over as if she’s flagging down a taxi.

“Belladonna!” Delora gushes. “I’d like you to meet some very special people.”

“This should be good,” I mutter. I have a feeling I’m about to be demoted severely at my own amusement park. And perhaps in life.

Delora motions to Ree first. “This is Ree Baker, one of your biggest fans!”

“I’ve read every single one of your books!” Ree blurts out. “The twist in book seven made me scream my head off!”

Georgie nods. “And not a man alive could attest she did the same for them.”

Ree shoots her a look that could strip the paint off the carousel.

Regardless, Belladonna smiles graciously. “That’s so wonderful to hear.”

Seeing her up close and personal, the woman really does have a Cruella de Vil appeal, and considering it’s spooky season, I can appreciate that. Come November, we may need to revisit the safety of all puppies in the state of Maine.

Delora gestures to Georgie. “And this is Georgie Conner⁠—”

“Nice to meet you, toots.” Georgie plasters on an eerie grin. “Quick question. If the cats get the covers, what happens to all the shirtless men? Because I’m willing to open my home. As a rescue.”

Georgie is a predator of the highest caliber, Fish mewls approvingly. She’s already established the trap. Now she waits.

Can we rescue someone who makes tacos instead? Chip asks. Just spitballing here.

Fish tips her furry little head. And that one, she adds, her ears flattening in Belladonna’s direction, has the energy of a cat toying with a mouse it plans to eat later. I know firsthand. I’m usually the cat.

Leave it to Fish to size someone up in under a minute. Her track record is better than most background checks, which means Belladonna is a walking red flag.

Delora clears her throat. “And this handsome young man is my son, Detective Dexter Drake.”

Dexter is well into his fifties, and he’s looking mighty fine. Gen X has never been prouder of one of their own.

Belladonna’s eyes light up. “A detective! How thrilling.”

Dexter gives a polite nod, then gestures to me. “And this is Josie Janglewood. She’s one of the other park owners.”