the house. And stealing all the nuts from our pecan tree.”
Heather planted her hands on her hips. “Haven’t I told you a million times to keep the locks on?”
Fidelia hung her head, looking properly remorseful. “I’ll be more careful.” She switched on the safety, then shot Jean-Luc a pointed look. “I know how to deal with a scumbag with nuts.”
His mouth twitched. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
At that moment, Emma burst onto the porch, a stake in her hand. “Is he here?”
“No,” Jean-Luc answered. “False alarm.”
Emma looked around. “But I heard a gunshot.”
“Yes.” Jean-Luc motioned toward the front yard. “We suffered a casualty.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “We were attacked by a squirrel?”
“Damned right,” Fidelia said. “And I took care of it.”
“Oh my God, Heather,” Sasha whispered. “You’re dealing drugs?”
“What?” Heather turned to her. “No!”
“Oh.” Sasha looked disappointed. “Then what’s the deal with all the weapons?”
Heather sighed. “I can explain. Later.”
“Since everything’s fine, I’ll go back to my post.” Emma slanted Jean-Luc an amused glance as she headed back into the foyer. “And you thought you’d be bored in Texas.”
He nodded. Life had become much more interesting lately.
“I’ve had enough excitement for one day,” Fidelia announced and waddled after Emma. “I’m taking a long hot bath and going to bed.”
“Good night.” Heather set her shotgun down on the porch. “Great. Now I get to deal with the squirrel.”
“There is nothing to deal with,” Jean-Luc assured her. “The squirrel is dead.”
“I can’t leave it lying there. Bethany will see it, and she thinks it’s SpongeBob’s friend Sandy.”
Jean-Luc had no idea what she was talking about. “I could bury it. Even say the Last Rites.” He knew them by heart after hearing Roman perform them more than a hundred times for their fallen comrades during the Great Vampire War.
Heather’s pretty mouth tilted up at the corners. “I didn’t realize our squirrel was Catholic.”
Was she laughing at him? “If you rather I didn’t—”
“No, please. I want you to.” She gifted him with a brilliant smile. “I think you’re very sweet.”
His heart expanded. Mon Dieu, a man could grow addicted to this feeling. “You have a shovel?”
“Yes, in the garage.” She motioned to her left.
He hurried down the porch steps and took a left turn toward the driveway. He kept his sword with him, just in case Lui was hiding in the shadows. Or the garage.
Sasha Saladine watched him as he passed by, then hissed at Heather. “You big liar! You told me you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Heather whispered.
Jean-Luc continued to pick up their conversation as he strode toward the detached garage.
“Where on earth did you find him?” Sasha whispered.
“I met him last night at the grand opening.”
“You’re kidding! That handsome hunk was there? Damn, I screwed the wrong guy.”
“Sasha!”
“Have you slept with him yet?”
“Of course not,” Heather huffed. “I just met him yesterday.”
Her indignation made Jean-Luc smile. He paused at the garage’s side door to hear more.
“If you don’t want him, I’ll take him,” Sasha continued. “Alberto was kinda disappointing. But he did promise me more turns on the runway. So, what do you say?”
“Uh, congratulations?”
“No, I’m talking about the hunky guy with the sword. Can I make a move on him or not? Do you want him?”
He strained to hear a response.
“Jean!” Heather called. “Is the door locked?”
He twisted the doorknob, and the door creaked open. “It’s fine!” He slipped inside, but left the door ajar so he could hear. He glanced around. The garage was empty.
“John?” Sasha asked. “John who?”
“Jean Echarpe,” Heather replied. “He’s Jean-Luc Echarpe’s son.”
Sasha gasped. “You’re kidding! Oh,
Heather planted her hands on her hips. “Haven’t I told you a million times to keep the locks on?”
Fidelia hung her head, looking properly remorseful. “I’ll be more careful.” She switched on the safety, then shot Jean-Luc a pointed look. “I know how to deal with a scumbag with nuts.”
His mouth twitched. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
At that moment, Emma burst onto the porch, a stake in her hand. “Is he here?”
“No,” Jean-Luc answered. “False alarm.”
Emma looked around. “But I heard a gunshot.”
“Yes.” Jean-Luc motioned toward the front yard. “We suffered a casualty.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “We were attacked by a squirrel?”
“Damned right,” Fidelia said. “And I took care of it.”
“Oh my God, Heather,” Sasha whispered. “You’re dealing drugs?”
“What?” Heather turned to her. “No!”
“Oh.” Sasha looked disappointed. “Then what’s the deal with all the weapons?”
Heather sighed. “I can explain. Later.”
“Since everything’s fine, I’ll go back to my post.” Emma slanted Jean-Luc an amused glance as she headed back into the foyer. “And you thought you’d be bored in Texas.”
He nodded. Life had become much more interesting lately.
“I’ve had enough excitement for one day,” Fidelia announced and waddled after Emma. “I’m taking a long hot bath and going to bed.”
“Good night.” Heather set her shotgun down on the porch. “Great. Now I get to deal with the squirrel.”
“There is nothing to deal with,” Jean-Luc assured her. “The squirrel is dead.”
“I can’t leave it lying there. Bethany will see it, and she thinks it’s SpongeBob’s friend Sandy.”
Jean-Luc had no idea what she was talking about. “I could bury it. Even say the Last Rites.” He knew them by heart after hearing Roman perform them more than a hundred times for their fallen comrades during the Great Vampire War.
Heather’s pretty mouth tilted up at the corners. “I didn’t realize our squirrel was Catholic.”
Was she laughing at him? “If you rather I didn’t—”
“No, please. I want you to.” She gifted him with a brilliant smile. “I think you’re very sweet.”
His heart expanded. Mon Dieu, a man could grow addicted to this feeling. “You have a shovel?”
“Yes, in the garage.” She motioned to her left.
He hurried down the porch steps and took a left turn toward the driveway. He kept his sword with him, just in case Lui was hiding in the shadows. Or the garage.
Sasha Saladine watched him as he passed by, then hissed at Heather. “You big liar! You told me you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Heather whispered.
Jean-Luc continued to pick up their conversation as he strode toward the detached garage.
“Where on earth did you find him?” Sasha whispered.
“I met him last night at the grand opening.”
“You’re kidding! That handsome hunk was there? Damn, I screwed the wrong guy.”
“Sasha!”
“Have you slept with him yet?”
“Of course not,” Heather huffed. “I just met him yesterday.”
Her indignation made Jean-Luc smile. He paused at the garage’s side door to hear more.
“If you don’t want him, I’ll take him,” Sasha continued. “Alberto was kinda disappointing. But he did promise me more turns on the runway. So, what do you say?”
“Uh, congratulations?”
“No, I’m talking about the hunky guy with the sword. Can I make a move on him or not? Do you want him?”
He strained to hear a response.
“Jean!” Heather called. “Is the door locked?”
He twisted the doorknob, and the door creaked open. “It’s fine!” He slipped inside, but left the door ajar so he could hear. He glanced around. The garage was empty.
“John?” Sasha asked. “John who?”
“Jean Echarpe,” Heather replied. “He’s Jean-Luc Echarpe’s son.”
Sasha gasped. “You’re kidding! Oh,
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