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Sneak Peek Sunday! (from Book 5 of the MB Files)

Harry put a glass of orange juice in front of me, patted my head, and reminded gently, “Your gruel is getting cold, dear. I cannot imagine a more cruel task to put before you, but please do eat your oatmeal.”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “You don’t have to twist my nipples about it.”

“Always a lady,” he remarked pleasantly. “And now I am afraid that it falls upon me to inquire: what tomfoolery might you be planning today, love?”

“None at all. Just being a good little DaySitter and staying here to guard you like I’m supposed to.”

“I hardly believe my ears,” he murmured, sweeping into the chair opposite me and giving me a knowing cluck of his tongue before snapping open the New York Times. “In fact, one cannot imagine that you plan on doing anything like it.”

I slopped my spoon around in the oatmeal with a sigh. “I might hit the gun range and show off my mad skills to Hood’s new chief deputy.”

One corner of the newspaper flipped down so that Harry could display his thrice-pierced eyebrow arching up. He made a drawn-out, contemplative mmhmmm. “Perhaps it is best he does not see your ludibrious quagswagging too soon.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, certain I’d just been insulted. “I think it’s only fair he gets a heads up on who’s Top Dog around here.”

“Try not to be perfectly absurd, darling,” Harry said.

“I do try,” I said. “Would you not describe my absurdity as imperfect?”

“I suppose this plan is better than last Tuesday’s lying about in your pajamas all day, drinking merlot and yelling at the TV meteorologist.”

“It was pinot noir,” I said, “and it wasn’t all day. You know Al Roker drives me crazy in the morning.”

“What utter rubbish. You have nothing but love for Mr. Roker when you are sober. How fickle is my pet’s heart on a bibesy,” Harry chided. “You kept me awake in my casket long past noon, what with your ill-tempered yowling like a red fox screaming in a trap.” His lips turned up in a private smile and he shook with a silent chuckle, proud of his comparison. I stared at him until he looked up from his newspaper inquiringly; then, I glared to impress upon him that the too-close-to-home comparison did not go unnoticed. His smile widened until he was damn near grinning across the table.

“Isn’t it time for you to rest, Harry?” I asked him. “I’m almost sure it is.”

He folded the paper and smiled. “If it pleases you, my cheeky one.” He came around to plant a cool kiss on my forehead and then went to the pantry, where the cellar stairs were. “Promise your companion now that you’ll spend some time on self-care. A visit to the salon. A nice massage?”

“We’ll see,” I said, thinking of a pedicure.

“See that you don’t cause the sheriff more collywobbles than is typically expected of you. He’ll be no good to us if he goes completely off his trolley,” Harry warned. “Only fire, folly, and mischief can come of that.”

I frowned after him, listening to the soft pad of his Oxfords on the stairs. I took my mostly uneaten oatmeal to the compost bin and scraped the bowl, bracing for the cold chill that snagged my belly whenever Harry fell to rest. It took him a few minutes of settling in, getting comfortable, and feeling me out through the Bond to make sure I was all right, and then he died. Everybody’s always dying on me, I thought bitterly.

Writing at the Canal

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One Response to Sneak Peek Sunday! (from Book 5 of the MB Files)

  1. Cindy says:

    CANNOT WAIT!! I love your books! They’re funny and very entertaining and I can’t put them down ’til they’re done. I’m so glad there’ll be more Marnie and Co.

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