Page 25 of Boats, Moats, & Root Beer Floats

Before Covin noticed, or at least admitted to noticing, I managed a quick shopping trip into the village to stock up on supplies. By the time I returned to Witnot, the blue sky had grayed outcompletely, and the air was icy enough to suggest my trip was about to end one way or another.

I ducked inside the stone archway covered in garlands, hidden by trees decorated in deep scarlet baubles and gold tinsel just as the first snowflake landed on my nose.

“Good timing,” one of the last remaining workmen from this morning shot out of the castle as I entered it. “Sky’s about to let down, I’d say.”

“Probably, I agreed. “Did he feed you?”

“Oh yes,” the man rubbed his stomach enthusiastically. “Salmon croquettes and fresh bread for lunch. Couldn’t be happier.”

I rolled my eyes internally.Yep, that sounded like Covin.Al wouldn’t be happy without his tins to stack if Covin used the lot like I suspected he had. “That’s great, thank you so much for the enormous amount of work you’ve done.”

“No worries. Merry, Christmas,” he called, skidding his way along the path on the lightly iced stone. “You and your husband, though he’s an odd duck.”

“No, he’s not my husband,” I protested, but the man was already off and moving faster than he should have been for the increasingly snowy conditions.

I held my breath until he made it to the remaining truck parked outside and waved him goodbye though I doubted he could see me a mere five minutes later. Giving it up as a bad job I headed into the kitchen to put my goodies away before they melted.

Covin sat in front of the oven that looked like it was full of— somethings. A giant leather bound tome sat open in front of him and he took notes at a speed that astonished me.

“Is this what you were doing before I arrived?” I placed my bags on the ground and stared, open mouthed. “You’re not just a professor, are you?”

“Associate,” he muttered, jogging far too nimbly around the edge of the table to slide his arms around me. “I missed you.”

“I’ve barely been gone,” I protested.

“Long enough.” His mouth descended on mine in the sort of kiss that curled my toes inside my boots.

“Whoa,” I whispered, flushing head to hips in Christmas bauble red. “I need to put some things away.”

“I’ve got it.” Covin grabbed my bag and started unpacking. “Ice cream? Isn’t it?—”

“Snowing. Yep.” I bit my lip, reaching for the tub. “It’s for dessert.”

“Ah.” His gaze coasted over my form, but he let me unpack, unaccosted, and closed his leather bound book, buckling the thing shut.

What sort of book has to be buckled up to keep what’s inside out of the world?

“What other sorts of jobs did you do, Covin? The ones you said you…gave up?” I didn’t want to go there with him but now that he had started it, I kind of couldn’t stop.

The curse of being nosy AF in all respects.

He looked at me for the longest time. I shuffled my feet, a hundred apologies leaping to my tongue but none of them made it out of my mouth. We paused in a complete impasse another wanted to break.

Finally, Covin fessed up. “I was a spy.”

That was not like anything I ever expected him to say. “Like Mission…improbable, or whatever?”

Covin snorted. “Yeah, sure. Like that.”

I wrinkled my nose. “With…your brown suits, and tie and … Rocking the Dustman look? No way.”

He grinned like he was privy to an in-joke I missed. “You don’t see it, huh?”

“What?” I raised an eyebrow. “I feel like I’m too stupid to be part of this conversation.”

Al jiggled the oven door in agreement.

Covin was by my side in an instant, his arms locked around me, leaving me breathless with the speed he moved at, the possession written across his face. “Hardly, sweetheart. Your mind works just fine. Damn sexiest thing about you.”

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