“Aw, that’s sweet. I can’t blame you for keeping him with you.” Lydia looked her over and cocked her head to the side. “How’s the unpacking going?”
“I pulled out my pj’s for tonight, but I haven’t gotten any further yet.” She could have explained about the hours she’d spent pouring over the Shadow-Dweller books but decided against it. Becka didn’t want to pull Lydia into that world.
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Hey, you busy?”
“Only sort of,” Becka replied. Those books weren’t going anywhere, and besides, she’d missed hanging out with Lydia.
“Then let me tempt you with bingeing episodes of the latest season of Baking Wars. I hear the hosts actually swear once this season and the bakers all walked out in protest over the incivility.”
“No!” Becka shouted. What could have happened to drive the hosts to swearing? “Oh my gods I’ve missed that show! It’s the best!”
“Yes! Or, there’s also new episodes of that old-timey human show where they reenact how royalty used to live in an old manor house?”
“Hmm, no. As in, never again am I watching that tripe.” If Becka wanted to see an old manor house, she’d go back to House Rowan to visit.
“But you used to love it.”
“You know, that was before I had to live day in and day out in proper, cultured fae fashion. It’s only entertaining when it’s on television.”
Lydia wobbled her head back and forth. “So, it’s the baking show, then?”
Becka nodded. “But only if you have Oreos.”
“What do you think I emergency shopped for at two a.m. this morning after Queen Maura’s phone call?”
Becka laughed. “Be careful, she might just show up here someday.”
“Let’s hope not.” Lydia held out her hand, and after a pause, Becka took it, and Lydia hauled her up off of the bed.
“I forget, are we allowed to binge-watch before dark?”
“Girl, you have been gone far too long if you can’t remember the house rules.”
Becka laughed along with Lydia, who seemed to know just how to break her out of her funk. She curled up under her favorite fuzzy pink blanket, ate Oreos, and laughed at episode after episode of great bakes that invariably went horribly, awfully wrong.
At eight o’clock, there was a knock at the door.
Lydia set aside her tin of chocolate sandwich cookies and paused the show.
“Are you expecting someone?” Becka asked.
“No, but you are,” Lydia replied, sashaying her way to the front door.
“My lady, I’m afraid you must be mistaken.” Becka stuffed another Oreo into her mouth. “Gods, how I missed this creamy, crunchy, chocolatey goodness!” Becka mumbled around the cookie.
There was a second knock just as Lydia got to the door. “Hold up, I’m here.”
She opened the door while Becka watched from the couch. Somehow she managed to stuff a fresh Oreo into her mouth at the moment Quinn walked through the front door.
“Hey,” she said around a mouthful of cookie, smiling reflexively at his arrival. She’d expected him to check in on her, but she hadn’t even had a full day back to herself to enjoy. Nonetheless, it was good to see him.
“Good evening,” he said, dropping a large duffel bag to the floor.
“Good evening,” Lydia replied, and then closed the door and returned to her perch on the couch.
Quinn walked up behind the couch, taking in the empty Oreo tins and fluffy bunny slippers. “Are you busy?”
“Yeah, sorry, I’m catching up with this season’s Baking Wars. It’s macaron week.”
“Macaroon?”
“No, macaron. Super important. Perhaps let’s catch up on the case some other time?” Becka raised another cookie to her lips. Quinn raised an eyebrow at her, so she bit into the cookie extra slow.
He shook his head. “Where’s the room?” he asked Lydia.
“First floor, down the hall and all the way to the back.” Lydia pointed, helpful as always.
Becka ate another cookie, watching him closely.
“Cool, thanks.” He grabbed his bag and walked down the hall out of sight.
Becka turned to Lydia. “What’s going on?” she asked, muffled by the cookie in her mouth.
“He’s renting one of the guest bedrooms,” Lydia replied. “And he’s not the only one.”
“What?” Becka shot to her feet. “Since when do you actually rent out rooms?”
“Since Duke Vott ordered it. Or it might have been Chief Elowen. Maybe both.” Lydia shrugged.
Becka sucked in a breath around another cookie, feeling her heart rate spiking. Oh my… he’s going to be living here?
“He gonna be a problem?” Lydia asked, brow arched.
“Yeah, he’s trouble.” The temptation of not just working with Quinn, but also living with him day in, day out?
Lydia pinned her with her glare-stare. “You need me to handle it?”
Who is this woman, and what is she planning?
“No, no.” Becka waved her off. “He’s my trouble.”
Lydia’s tense stare softened, and she raised a curious brow as a smile tugged at her lips. “Your trouble?”
“I mean, I’ve got it.”
The doorbell rang again.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Becka exclaimed, then moved to open the door.
Saige, suitcase in hand, stood on her stoop. “Fair evening, Becka.” She walked in, glancing around the space. “Room’s at the end of the hall?” she asked Lydia.
“On the right,” Lydia called back.
Saige turned to Becka and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m here to help you hunt down Luce’s killer. My cub-mate died being true to her own skin, and I’m here to be true to mine.”
Becka’s eyes teared up. “I never said…”
“You didn’t have to,” Saige interrupted her. “I’m going to unpack.” She gave Becka a quick squeeze and then headed off down the hall.
Becka wiped her hands free of crumbs, took a deep breath to dispel the sudden heaviness in her heart, and stomped down the hall. When she reached the first guest room, she stepped in.
Quinn stood unloading clothes into the dresser. “How’s the reentry been so far?”
“It’s been a quiet day, until now. I was liking the quiet.”
He let that pass without comment. “I see Saige has arrived.”
“Did you two coordinate this invasion?”
He shrugged and then looked at her side-eyed. “You’re upset I’m here?”
She shrugged back.
