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“Oh, dang,” I continue. “Maybe they are moving in.”
I watch as the man carries a few pieces of luggage up the rickety steps. His leg falls through the final board, and the contents of one of the bags spills out.
“Did that man pack his kitchen into a duffel bag?” Marcel sounds equal parts curious and impressed.
“I think so.”
I watch as the burly man pulls himself up while his attractive girlfriend chases after a collection of whisks that have unraveled from the sweater they were wrapped in. Something about the sight makes me almost immediately start second-guessing my assumption that they are a couple.
Maybe they’re brother and sister? They certainly don’t look related, though. If they’re family, she got all the looks.
A smile tugs on my lips as Marcel laughs, no doubt just as intrigued as I am at the scene before us.
“Just get the door, the door!” I hear the man say, thankful my hearing is superior to even most vampires.
Careful not to fall into his own hole again, the man collects the remaining pieces of kitchenware before looking over his shoulders and darting after the girl.
“I’ll tell you what,” I try again.
“You already said that.”
I raise my glass to make a toast. “Did I say this? If that place isn’t occupied by the time I get back, we’ll grab it and flip it.”
He clinks his drink with mine, though his eyes are dull.
“You only say that because it looks like you have a new neighbor. So much for my dream reno.”
I try to look sad as Marcel drinks away his mock sorrow. But on the inside, I can’t stop thinking about the pretty girl next door and just who the man with her might be.
I wonder if she’ll be staying around for a while.
3
CLARISSA
“You think you’ll be able to handle the rest without me?”
I know Marshal Todd is just being nice. His legs must burn from where the broken porch ripped his cargo shorts, but I can’t think about that and this dump at the same time. I look around the dusty cottage and cough, then grab hold of the nearest sheet in sight.
“I think I can manage to pull off a few sheets from a few pieces of furniture.” I force a shaky smile just as a rickety lamp tips in my direction.
Before I know it, Marshal Todd’s meaty hands are on my shoulders. I step back and let the federal agent take the hit. Surprisingly, he snatches the hand-carved stand with one hand, while flicking on the lampshade with another. I stare at him nonplussed, still clinging to the sheet I’d tried pulling off with my non-dominant hand.
“Sorry about that,” I offer, trying to come up with something both truthful and kind. “This place is…”
“Perfect? I know. It’s a friend of the agency’s,” Marshal Todd informs me, plopping down into an oversized chair still draped in a powder-blue sheet. “Checked the place out already, and the beds are comfortable. The wallpaper in the second bedroom won’t bother you if you don’t bother it.”
“I have no idea what that means,” I begin, then follow his gaze over my shoulder and down the hall.
The wood floor creaks as I make my way to the room in question. Instantly, I understand his cryptic message.
“Why do the flowers all have faces?” I ask, not sure if I should look away from the cacophony of daisies, oleanders, and what I think are begonias with too many eyelashes.
“It was a special commission,” he replies as if that answers my question.
“That just means I have more questions now,” I tell him, pulling the door shut without breaking my gaze.
Let’s just say I found where I won’t be sleeping tonight or any other night while I’m laying low.
