Page 50 of Sparrow

I take a sip of the drink, and it’s surprisingly good. Better this time than it was the first time, though that might be because I’m actually expecting the alcohol now, rather than getting surprised by it when it tries to choke me. “Fair. So why poison, then?”

She sips her own drink and shrugs. “Easy. There’s no immediate outcome, so I’ll have plenty of time to get away. Can’t be traced back to me, because there are no fingerprints. No shell casings to be matched to my gun. No gun at all. No evidence.” She pauses, tipping her head back and forth as she thinks. “And you can make it yourself, so it’s not like there will be a purchase record. If that sort of thing even exists for purveyors of poisons.”

She watches me take all of this in and leans forward, elbows on the counter and eyes laughing. “Why? What’s your preferred weapon? Your mouth is hanging open, by the way.”

I snap it shut, not having realized that it was, and stare at the girl in front of me.

A girl I would have sworn had never considered the merits of murdering with poison rather than a gun.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into that,” I finally say.

She shrugs. “A girl’s gotta be prepared. How’s the cocoa?”

“Good,” I croak, wondering if we’re accidentally harboring a murderess under our roof.

Honestly, the thought makes her even sexier.

I turn away from that thought immediately and focus on less dangerous topics. “So is this a thing now? The whiskey in the cocoa?”

She smiles. “I guess so. Is that a problem?”

I smile back. “Not at all. Hot chocolate and whiskey is my favorite thing to do at 2 in the morning.”

Her smile gets even bigger. “Well you know what they say. The best things happen at 2 in the morning.”

She moves her mug toward mine and toasts me at this statement, like we’ve just made some sort of deal.

“That’s not actually what they say,” I reply. “They say nothing good happens after 2 in the morning.”

She thinks about this for a moment, then shakes her head. “I think they’re wrong. I’m changing it. Only good things. I mean whiskey and chocolate are good things. And it’s after 2. Obviously they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

I stare at the girl who has appeared twice now after 2 in the morning, hot chocolate and secrets in hand... and I have to agree with her.

And if we’re making a deal the way I thought earlier, then I’m all in.

“Porch?” she asks, one eyebrow lifted.

I glance at the window next to her and see that the summer storm is still in effect, rain pouring down outside. “Looks like it’s still raining out there.”

“Yeah but not on the porch,” she notes. “There’s that whole roof thing keeping it dry. Unless you’re scared of a little rain...”

Her expression tells me that I will never hear the end of it if I tell her I don’t want to go out there and subject myself to a little rain.

Which is lucky, because I wasn’t going to say that, anyhow.

“Last one in their seat has to get refills,” I whisper.

Then I dash through the house, running as quickly as I can while avoiding furniture and doors and not spilling hot chocolate all over my hand.

The little minx still beats me, and I have no idea how.

“That wasn’t fair,” I huff, dropping into my seat.

“Not fair?” she scoffs. “You set the rules and took off without giving me any warning, and you think it wasn’t fair? It’s not my fault I’m faster than you.”

“You’re not faster than me. You can just fit through smaller spaces.”

She gives me a pointed look. “Yes, because I managed to get through a very tiny tunnel to get here before you arrived. How did you know?”