“Like three. I’m good. Don’t believe me?”
“No, I do.”
He caught my hand. “I am fine. It’s a little stiff. That’s it. Want to tell me why you didn’t have enough time for lunch?”
“Who says I didn’t have lunch?” I said through a mouthful of cheese.
He leveled me a flat look.
“Okay, I didn’t have lunch. It took forever to process the crime scene, arrange to have the bodies reburied, make sure the leprechaun wasn’t live streaming the whole thing, and work out a plan to go on the offense against the king of hell.”
“I still can’t believe this town sometimes,” he said. “Bring me up to speed?”
“You cooking?”
“I already cooked. Dinner’s in the oven. Chicken and dumplings. Salad in the fridge.”
“Have I told you how much I love you?”
“Not for a very, very long time.” He leaned across the island.
“I love you,” I said, meeting him in the middle for a kiss.
“I need your help.”
The dragon-pig was rooting around in the huge pile of stuffies near the fireplace, its head buried.
“It’s about the demons that have been getting through our protections and into Ordinary. The ones that got through and hurt Ryder. The ones that sent those people to attack me.”
It popped its head out of the toys and growled.
“I know. I know. But I’m fine. So is he.”
The dragon-pig narrowed its eyes at Ryder, who was looking through one of his three-ring binders that contained the notes, samples, numbers, and everything else that was going into our wedding.
“I’m good,” he said, holding up his bandaged arm, but not looking at us. “You didn’t get a package recently did you, babe?”
“How big?”
“Bigger than a breadbox. Smaller than a car.” He flashed me a grin. “You could just say no instead of digging for hints.”
“Digging?”
“You like that it’s going to be a surprise.”
He’d really leaned into the idea that this was a surprise for me, a secret, a gift he was giving me that I wouldn’t open until I walked down the aisle. I loved him for that, so didn’t remind him that he was having to deal with all this on his own because I sucked at this stuff.
“You remember that the rehearsal is tomorrow afternoon, right?”
“One o’clock,” I dutifully repeated.
“Right. And you remember it’s at the community center.”
“Yes. Bertie has been cackling about us holding it in the old gymnasium for months. She likes to think she won the bid for where we were going to hold our wedding, but you gave her the rehearsal to keep her off the trail of where we’re having the real ceremony, didn’t you?”
“I will neither confirm nor deny. Wear something comfortable.”
“Why? Are we doing jumping jacks? Climbing the rope?”
