Page 34 of Boats, Moats, & Root Beer Floats

“Fix what, exactly?” she asked softly.

Like she expected to be hurt. Fucked over.

By someone she trusted. Someone she loved.

I didn’t have an answer ready as I pulled her in for a quick kiss, the apologetic sort. She still watched me and it was unnerving as I left the room on long strides and found Erasmus searching rooms and wandering randomly in the halls.

The science nerd—there was literally no better description for the paunch bellied man with frazzled hair that stuck out at more angles than any mathematical equation or gravity allowed for—stood before me wearing one pair of glasses on his nose and two more perched on top of his head. His stained tee beneath his flannel sheepskin lined jacket read:

WTF - the element of surprise. Fucks = 42.

I huffed. “The answer to everything, right?” I held out a hand and he clasped it clammily.

“Of course,” he muttered, his eyes enlarged by lenses that could have been replaced by tech of this century but Erasmus loved his antiques. Which was why we were here.

“I was wrong–” I started.

“You?” He snorted. “Fuck off. Loved the pictures. Great stack. Show me where. You bought it yet?”

“No.” He startled the answer from me with his run on list of questions.

“Shit.” He rubbed a finger under his nose. “Damn weather makes everything run.”

I produced a tissue. “It’s not a boomerang.”

“Ha. Good to know.” He pocketed the offering and followed me away from the bedrooms and toward the kitchen. “Still got the tins?”

“Gave them away to workmen,” I said shortly, waving to the trees and garlands overpopulating the halls.

“Dammit, Cov. You know how I work,” he whined. “We need evidence.”

“We?” I halted and raised both my eyebrows. “Listen, Ras. I made a mistake. There’s no ghost in Witnot Castle. Nothing you need to see here, and I’ve got a little situation that I'm working on right now, so why don’t you head back to London and I’ll just see myself through the rest of the holiday period and back to—”Californiawas on the tip of my tongue, but my home state never made it past my lips as I turned the corner into the hallway leading into the kitchen.

A group of underfed scientists I knew Ras had pulled from the university’s grant program lined the hallway, stuffed between trees, each dressed in a white coat that didn’t fit him or her, each wearing an assortment of headgear and holding a gadget whose purpose I could only guess at.

And each face held a hungry expression I instantly hated. All because of the woman I’d already fallen for who stood between them, her hands on her hips glaring at me. Or rather, around the three identical stacks of root beer placed perfectly in the middle of the corridor.

Apparently Al had chosen today to develop a sense of humor.

Ras smirked when I glanced his way. “No human stacks bottles like that.”

I would have groaned aloud at the mangled movie quote if not for the seriousness of the situation.

Lindy’s glare and silence ate at me.

I have to fix this. Now.

“New puzzle habit. I told you I had a little relationship issue I was working on.” I forced a jovial note into my voice I didn’t feel, sending a warning glance over my shoulder at Lindy who hadn’t moved an inch.

She sent me one right back.

Ras slapped my shoulder in an effort I’m sure he thought stung.

This was such a mistake.

“No shit,” Lindy mouthed.

“I’m glad you’re over Sarah. At least this one is hot,” Ras snickered

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