Page 89 of When I Accidentally Snagged a Serial Killer

Maisie nudges her elbow against mine. “You are so whipped.”

“Concur.”

Across the room, Jubilee has moved to a café table. She catches me watching and points at me. Then at the coaster beneath her drink.

I squint. The mug sits perfectly centered on top.

My heart does a humiliating flip. I press one hand over my chest. Jubilee laughs so hard, she nearly dislodges Marzipan.

Maisie mutters, “Jesus Christ. I take it back.”

I turn toward her. She keeps her eyes on Jubilee.

“You’re not whipped. You’re fucking doomed.”

I stare at the woman across the room. Burgundy bow, autumn-leaf stockings, a Persian on her lap, surrounded by strangers who already adore her. And I feel absolutely no instinct to argue.

“Concur.”

CHAPTER 23

Jubilee

By the time we get home, I should be dead. Instead, I’m dancing through Gage’s kitchen at eleven-thirty at night, half a cherry-jubilee cupcake in one hand with six cats weaving around our ankles like furry backup dancers.

Gage kneads his heavy eyes. “It is too late for this.”

I spin beneath the pendant lights. “It’s never too late for joy, Cannon.”

“You spent six hours meeting strangers.”

I raise a finger. “Very nice strangers.”

“You must have talked to seven hundred people.”

“I’m charming.”

His gaze roams to the cupcake, then lower, to the frosting smeared across the front of my sweater. “Ahh. Yeah, it makes sense now. Sugar rush.”

I wag the cupcake at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll crash soon.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Just be sure to catch me.”

His expression softens, but it’s also dangerous enough to rearrange my organs. “Always.”

He makes good on that promise. One minute I’m explaining to Tartlet why biting electrical cords is unacceptable, and the next, I’m being carried upstairs.

“I can walk,” I slur.

“You’re half-asleep. Adrenaline surge, sugar crash.”

I can’t argue. By the time he gets my boots off, I have maybe three functioning brain cells left.

“The comments want us to have our own channel,” Gage says.

“Okay.” I yawn. He pulls the blankets over me, and my eyes pop open. “Wait. What? Our own channel?”