Page 111 of Joker in the Pack

A simple, uncluttered life. That was my new dream. Forget opening a bakery, just the ability to open a door all the way without it jamming against a mound of junk would do.

But Nye was serious, and he was also waiting. I procrastinated for five minutes longer by making coffee. I was tempted to add a slug of brandy to mine, but I didn’t want Nye to think I was a lush.

“Which room do you want to start with?” I asked, desperately hoping he’d change his mind and suggest a nice ride on his motorcycle instead.

No such luck.

“Statistically, women tend to hide most things in the kitchen. So I vote we search in here first.”

Over the next six hours, we pulled the room apart. Every cupboard got emptied, and we checked the bottoms and backs for hidden compartments. I inspected every can and bottle left from the days of Aunt Ellie in case it contained something other than food, and Nye even sifted the old bags of sugar. Apart from a brand-new hand mixer stuffed at the back of one cupboard, which I got tragically excited about, and a rather disgusting desiccated mouse, we found nothing.

“Lunch break?” I suggested, even though I still felt slightly queasy from the dead rodent. Perhaps I could suggest we head out for a bite to eat in, say, Scotland?

Nye nodded and sat back in a chair. “This is harder than I thought. How could one woman own so much shit?”

“I don’t know. I’ll admit, the untidiness offends me.”

He laughed. “Babe, you sounded so prim when you said that.”

“What’s the problem with liking things neat?”

“There isn’t a problem. You’re adorable when you get all indignant.”

I tried to look peeved, but it proved impossible when Nye leaned forward and captured my lips with his. He wound his hand around my ponytail and tilted my head back to give himself better access, and for a few blissful minutes, the worries of my life disappeared. Kissing Nye consumed me.

I longed to stay there for the rest of the day, but storm clouds hovered on the fringes of my mind, threatening to burst if we didn’t get on with the task at hand.

Nye groaned as I pulled back. “Do we have to keep looking through this crap?”

“I don’t want to either.”

“I could take you upstairs and make you forget it existed.”

My nether regions heated at the mere thought. If only I could give in to temptation. “We have to carry on searching. And isn’t Spike still outside?”

“Yeah. Fuck it, you’re right. Let’s get this mystery solved. Then I can lock you in my bedroom for a week.”

“Are you serious?”

He waggled his eyebrows and glanced at his lap. “Don’t worry—I’ll feed you.”

“Stop it, or we’ll never get this done.” One of us had to act like the grown-up. “Which room’s next?”

“Your bedroom. It’s Eleanor’s old room, right?”

I nodded.

“I had more ideas while we were looking this morning, and I want to bring in help tomorrow when we tackle the other rooms.”

“What kind of help?”

“Extra manpower and a truck to put some of the crap in. Otherwise, it’ll be like one of those plastic puzzles where you’ve got one free space and you have to keep slotting other pieces into the gap.”

He wasn’t wrong. Even in the kitchen, which was arguably the tidiest room in the house, we’d struggled for places to put things while we emptied out the cupboards. I had visions of getting stuck in the middle of a pile of junk with no escape if we tried the same tactic in the other rooms.

Although if Nye was with me, I could see the advantages.

“What other ideas did you have?” I asked.

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