Page 16 of The Vampire in the Potting Shed

“I hang around with Mercer a lot,” he admitted, crunching away. “I’ve gained five pounds in lollipop.”

“You too?” I clucked my tongue. “And here I thought I was special.”

“Tai says he was a chain-smoker for decades. Candy was his replacement addiction.”

“Huh.” I thought about the oral-fixation angle. “Makes sense.” I waited for him to get to the point. “Can we help you?”

“Just making the rounds.” He flashed me a grin. “I didn’t expect to walk in on such juicy gossip.”

“The great thing aboutroundsare they’re essentially circles. They begin and end in the same place. And your place—” I shoved him toward the front door, “—is out there somewhere.”

Snacking away, he ambled out of the building, and I breathed a sigh of relief to be rid of him.

“Do you think we should have told him those chips are a year out of date?”

“No.” I didn’t have to think about it. “He stole them, so he gets what he gets.”

“He stole them from the basket where we put chip flavors we don’t eat but also don’t get rid of because it makes it look like we have more options than we really do as long as they’re in there.”

“Fiiine.” I flipped my wrist. “We’ll warn him about the chip basket the next time he passes through.”

“Hey.” She lingered on the threshold. “Did you find what you were looking for last night?”

Warm metal pooled in my hand where I held the chain and the charm. “I’m not sure.”

That she didn’t push for more made me double down on the urge to tell her everything. But not here. As much as I wanted to believe there were lines Dad wouldn’t cross, I couldn’t help wondering what else he had monitoring me.

Screwing up my courage, I tightened my fist, grateful Bowie was out on his rounds. “Do you have plans for lunch?”

“Just the usual. Sandwich from home. Maybe some expired chips…”

“Do you want to grab something out with me?” I kept my expectations low. “My treat.”

A delicate flare of her nostrils betrayed her instinct to check my emotional barometer.

“Yeah.” A genuine smile crinkled her eyes. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” I saluted her, like a dork. “See you at noon.”

Back at the register, Myrtle regarded me with pity, but she had deigned to use the subpar dog bed.

“You don’t have any room to talk,” I grumbled at her. “You’re not great with people either.”

As I was grabbing the tablet where I kept my to-do list for the pups here for makeovers, the phone rang, and I gave myself a cheer injection. “Gwinnett Street Groomers. This is Ana. How can I help you?”

The lineclick, click, clickedbefore disconnecting, which wasn’t creepy at all.

“Everything okay?” Sloane set aside the towels she was folding. “You’re all flush.”

I checked the caller ID log, but it was blank and hitting redial didn’t get me anywhere either.

“How serious were you about the friendship thing?”

“Ididrun interference for you last night and cover for you this morning.”

“What if I said that was only the beginning?”

“Are you asking me to be your friend or your partner in crime?”

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