Page 70 of Fresh Old Bounties

Without another word, he bent over the sink, cupped water into his hands, and returned to washing his face and neck. He had grown some stubble overnight, and it looked good on him. It accentuated the harshness of his features, turning him from someone you’d better we wary of to straight cross the street if you see him coming material.

“Coffee?” I croaked.

He dried himself with my hand towel and I decided then and there not to wash it ever again. “Please.”

I dragged myself into the kitchen, unconcerned by the fact that I was still in my oversized sleeping tee. This was how I’d met Ian for the first time, after all—the ship of him seeing me at my worst had long sailed.

Fluffy greeted me eagerly with small, short barks as if aware we might have neighbors. Rufus let out one of his customary woofs and stared dejectedly at the floor and his nonexistent bowl of food.

Obediently, I filled two bowls with dog food and got started on Ian’s coffee.

As I waited for the coffee to brew, I approached the sink.

“Good morning, Kraken.”

Gurgling sounds reverberated through the drain.

“Do you really have an octopus ghost in your pipes?” Ian asked from the doorway, startling me. He had put his black sweater back on but still walked barefoot.

He looked good like this. In my kitchen. Cozy. Nice. Sexy.

My thoughts must have been obvious on my face, because he walked up to me and gave me a chaste, lingering kiss.

“Good morning,” he repeated against my lips.

I grinned. “Good morning.”

“Your ghost?”

“Oh, that’s right.” I patted the faucet. “Kraken, come out, meet Ian.”

A dark drop formed at the end of the faucet. It grew and grew until a blob the size of my fist hung from the end. Two small white eyes blinked up at us. A ridiculously cute small tentacle popped out of the blob and extended tentatively.

Oh, my goodness. “It’s a tiny kraken,” I choked out, extending my finger toward it.

“Hope,” Ian warned.

I waved his concern aside. If the ghost had wanted to hurt me, it could’ve at any time before now.

The tiny kraken poked my finger once—a strangely solid push—then it retreated inside the faucet. Thumping echoed from the pipes.

I turned to Ian with a triumphant smile. “See? Harmless.”

Ian had a very strange expression on his face. With a sigh, he grabbed his coffee and muttered, “Not for the thief yesterday.”

“That’s because he was a bad man.” I looked down at the dogs. “Always feel free to maim the bad guys.”

They responded with sharp barks.

“Your dogs approve.”

“My dogs will do anything for food.”

I washed and dressed while he drank his coffee, then accompanied him downstairs and into the shop.

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay for breakfast?” I asked, disappointed our cozy time together was coming to an end.

“I need to get back before the strays come in.” He gave me a pointed look. “All three of them.”

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