She pressed a hand to her heart. “You’re standing there like this is normal.”
“It’s a bat, not a chainsaw.”
He sounded like they were discussing rain instead of a flying nightmare that had dive-bombed her.
She blinked at him. “ A bat?”
He didn’t answer.
Because… fair.
“I told you this place wasn’t ready,” he said.
“You did not say it had bats.”
“I said it wasn’t ready.”
“You implied plumbing. Maybe a broken cabinet. Not—” she gestured upward “—this.”
His mouth twitched.
“Do not,” she said sharply, pointing at him, “find this funny.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Behind him, the bat rustled under the blanket.
He glanced up again, listening.
Then back to her.
“Get your things.”
She blinked. “What?”
“You’re not staying here tonight.”
Her shoulders dropped, relief flashing across her face.
“Good.”
He nodded toward the bedroom. “Pack what you need. I’ll deal with this one and come back tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving them up there?”
He gave her a look. “You want me to handle all of them right now?”
She exhaled. “Two minutes.”
She turned?—
—and he caught her wrist.
Not hard.
Enough to stop her.
