Page 116

The unlocking click grants me access inside.

Is there some weird secret society training I have to go through?!

That happened in a book I read.

It wasn’t one of Sloan’s, but she wrote the foreword for it, which is why I picked it up to begin with.

It was pretty good.

Hers are – of course – better.

My lack of being greeted is somewhat expected considering I’ve never spent the entire night out since I got Noodle. Part of me wasn’t sure if I was going to be completely shunned – like I am – or if he was going to be at the door, at the ready to give me the mow lecture of a lifetime.

I place my keys on their hook, my helmet on the floor beneath them, and gingerly call out, “Noooooddleeeee…”

No response.

Don’t love it.

“Don’t be mad at me,” trickles out during my slow stroll for the kitchen. “Let’s go to the kitchen and I’ll tell you all about where I was over chocolate bacon and eggssssss…”

Knowing those magic words will get him out from wherever he’s pouting is what leads me to make sure I too go straight there; unfortunately, the instant I turn into the area, I gasp at the sight of an unknown, sepia skinned, shadow bearded figure who immediately slaps a damp cloth over my mouth and nose while using the other to slam my face forward into the material, guaranteeing, I breathe in whatever chemicals are clearly on it.

“Night, night, Owens.”

I’m not sure if it’s three breaths or thirteen that I take.

I’m also not sure if it’s my howling or my cats that’s reverberating around the space.

And I’m damn sure I have no idea if the thud I hear as everything goes black is my body hitting the ground or theirs.

Chapter 20

Hogan

“Dock”

I don’t hate my job.

In general.

I just happen to hate it today.

When I wanna be balls deep in my Old Lady instead of paperwork.

“Forfuckssake,” I grumble under my breath between bites of a bear claw, thumb scrolling upward on the work tablet screen, “didn’t we just replace a fucking canoe?” Crumbs land on top of my flops. “How the fuck do these touries keep fuckin’ shit up?”

“Yo Boss,” Aporia Yoon greets as she enters my back office that allows me to see the lake from it, “I need some siggies.” She waggles around the tablet her vanilla beige hands are clutching. “Like seven.”

“Seven?” Dropping my device back onto my white office desk precedes me shoving the rest of the pastry into my mouth. “That’s kinda fucking high, Ap.”

“Well,” she sassily begins, crossing over the space to reach me, “there’s food and beverage and then equipment and outerwear which is different than suvvy wear, plus there’s the two new hire paperwork – that will theoretically give you more time off in the future – and the property liability form regarding us – employees – not being held responsible for damage that may happen during the end of summer luau.”

Her offering occurs in tandem with me grousing, “A fucking luau?”

“That’s what they voted for.”

The eye roll that’s executed can’t be stopped.