Page 26 of Last Call at the Doghouse

Mitch followed Armi down the stairs. He hadn’t noticed it so much before, but after she mentioned how everything squeaked and squealed, he did. More steps squeaked than not. The banister was loose and had a distinctive rattle. The straight-back chair Armi took in the main room made a soft cracking sound as she took it.

When she’d sat on the mattress it had made an ungodly noise.

With the equinox coming, the B&B was filled to capacity with Springers returning for the festival, or to cast a spell or two with the power of the equinox behind them. Molly was in her element, laying out dessert plates and mismatched china cups, chatting with her customers. He had to wonder, what had she done to earn the wrath of Helen Benedict? Armi’s Aunt Helen seemed like a sweet enough old woman. What would make her, and apparently many other town residents, judge Molly so harshly?

It wasn’t the pie, which was better than he’d anticipated. She was friendly with her guests; a perfect hostess. At times it seemed like she was too friendly, but maybe that was just part of the job. Unless her failings had something to do with Armi, he didn’t care what they were.

But like Armi, he was curious.

One of her guests, Nelson Lovell, seemed to be closer to her than the others. He scurried to the kitchen when she ran out of silverware, and when dirty dishes needed to be taken to the sink and Molly was busy chatting with a woman from out of town who had a question about an antique chair. Was Lovell a regular tenant? A boyfriend?

A lover?

He didn’t really want to know. Again, unless it affected Armi it wasn’t his business.

Armi. Dammit, he didn’t want to be any more involved than he had to be. This job—a calling his dad had said—wasn’t exactly a choice he’d made. He had to protect her. He had to protect her until the war with evil was over or until one or both of them was dead.

Would the war with evil ever be over? Seemed to him as if there was always some evil in the world. That left…

Until death do us part.

“What?” Armi asked.

He looked at her, somehow surprised that she’d spoken. “What?”

She smiled. Dammit, she did have a nice smile. “You snorted.”

“Did I?” Of course he had. His last experience with ’til death do us part hadn’t ended so well. He’d never felt a punch in the gut like he had when that phone call had come. It had taken him years to recover, to stop dreaming about Laura. For far too long he’d awakened in the morning and for a split second believed she was still beside him. The moments that followed that lapse were torture, like losing her all over again.

He wouldn’t put himself through that again. He wouldn’t survive losing another woman he loved. Better to be alone, to keep his distance, and to reject all temptation of more. Emotions sucked.

Armi’s pie was almost gone. Just as well. He was thinking of taking a run tonight after she went to sleep. He’d slip out, taking the key Molly gave all her guests with him, since she said she locked the doors at nine. He’d change, run through town, see what he might sniff out.

Literally.

Maybe running would wear him out and he’d be able to sleep afterward, even though Armi would be right there.

Right there.

Her gasp caught him by surprise. So did the whispered, filthy words that followed that gasp. Armi might look like a proper lady, but she could curse like a sailor. He followed her gaze to the man who’d just entered the room. If he wasn’t more in control, he’d use some of her words himself. He had not expected this.

“Sonny,” Armi whispered. “That asshole.”

That asshole was the man he’d seen leaving Mary’s room last night.

CHAPTER 8

The man had no shame! Sonny walked right to her, smiled, and offered his hand not for a shake but to pull her to her feet and attempt to hug her. She saw the hug coming by the slant of his arm and the curl of his fingers, so she stepped aside and did not take him up on his offer. Their shoulders bumped briefly. She turned her head away and twisted her body. At that, he took a step back.

Sonny hadn’t changed much; she would’ve recognized him anywhere. Yes, there were a few wrinkles around his eyes, his hair was entirely gray, and he’d put on a few pounds that looked good on him. His hair wasn’t really gray, she conceded. It was an attractive silver that suited him. Sonny Camden was polished, suave, and as much of a snake as he’d ever been.

“What a lovely surprise,” he said. He sounded sincere, but she didn’t buy it. “When did you get in?”

“We haven’t been in town long,” she said. “You?”

“I’ve been here since Friday afternoon.” His eyebrows lifted a touch. “You said we?”

Duncan stepped closer, put an arm over her shoulder, and offered his right hand for a shake. “Mitch Duncan. And you are?”