Page 36 of Failure to Match

“The cat?”

Oh my god. Okay. “I thought you said you had less than zero interest in engaging in pleasantries with me over the next month.”

“I’d hardly call these pleasantries, seeing as neither of us finds them at all pleasant.”

I crossed my arms, waiting for him to get to the fucking point.

Instead, he said, “You didn’t answer my question about the mall sushi.”

I rolled my eyes, and I swear I saw his mouth quirk before I walked away.

“Is this your new plan?” I asked as he—once again—fell into step beside me. “You’re going to annoy me into quitting?”

He hadn’t said a word to me after lunch. Instead, he’d waited until I was off the clock.

“Perhaps,” he said. “Why? Would that work?”

My stomach growled when we reached the staff kitchens and the smell of garlic and savory spices hit my nose. I also needed to talk to Bensen about getting some fridge space and kitchen access. I couldn’t live off takeout for the next thirty days.

“There you are!” One of the Harrison twins (Molly, I guessed) popped out of the curved archway of the kitchen, a checkered oven mitt covering one hand. “What on heaven’s earth took you so long?”

“Sorry.” Jackson’s head ticked in my direction. “Our new guest is rather talkative.”

I blinked up at him. “I didn’t realize you had a sense of humor.”

“I don’t,” he deadpanned.

“Hello, dear,” Molly said to me. “Molly Harrison. Head housekeeper. We met a couple of weeks back.”

I took her outstretched hand with a smile. “How could I forget?”

“Yes, well, it was quite the memorable night, wasn’t it?”

“I’d say so.” Mabel appeared behind her sister. She was holding the other checkered oven mitt. “Hello again.”

“Hi. I’m Jamie, by the way,” I said. I couldn’t remember if I’d had a chance to introduce myself last time.

“Oh, yes, we’ve heard allabout you, Miss Paquin, haven’t we?”

“We have. It’s been quite the commotion around here since you turned up.”

“Mistress Minerva’s given us a couple of visits too.”

“She’s asked us to take good care of you. Talked to the whole staff.”

“Hard to please, Mistress Minerva.”

“She’s taken a liking to you though, so you must have done something right.”

Jackson snorted.

I ignored him.

“Would you like to join us for dinner, dear?” Molly asked kindly.

“Oh, she can’t,” Jackson cut in. He had a shoulder leaned against the wall, hands stuffed casually in the pockets of his slacks. He was still in his office attire, sans the suit jacket. “I’m afraid Miss Paquin doesn’t find me to be adequate dinner company.”

The sisters gaped up at me like I’d just spat on their whole ancestral tree.

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