I opened the door to the freezer and pushed aside the half-empty cartons of ice cream to find the frozen waffles. The box hit the counter with a hard clunk. Yum, yum. Ivy gave me a raised eyebrow look when I struggled to open the damp cardboard. “So-o-o-o,” she drawled as I dug my red nails into the top and tore it completely off when the handy-dandy pull-tab broke. “When are they coming to get the fish?”

My eyes darted to Mr. Fish swimming in his brandy snifter on the kitchen windowsill.

“The one in my bathtub?” she added.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, flushing. “Well…”

Her chair creaked as she leaned back. “Rachel, Rachel, Rachel,” she lectured. “I’ve told you before. You have to get the money up front. Before the run.”

Angry that she was right, I jammed two waffles into the toaster and shoved them down. They popped back up, and I smacked them down again. “It wasn’t my fault,” I said. “The stupid fish was never missing and no one bothered to tell me. But I’ll have the rent by Monday. Promise.”

“It’s due Sunday.”

There was a distant pounding at the front door. “There’s Glenn,” I said, striding out of the kitchen before she could say anything more. Boots clattering, I went down the hall and into the empty sanctuary. “Come on in, Glenn!” I shouted, voice echoing against the distant ceiling. The door remained shut, so I pushed it open, stopping short in surprise. “Nick!”

“Hey. Hi,” he said, his lanky height looking awkward on the wide stoop. His long face was slack in question, and his thin eyebrows were high. Tossing his black, enviably straight bangs from his eyes, he asked, “Who’s Glenn?”

A smile quirked the corners of my mouth at his hint of jealousy. “Edden’s son.”

Nick’s face went empty, and I grinned, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside. “He’s an FIB detective. We’re working together.”

“Oh.”

The volume of emotion behind that one word was better than a year’s worth of dates. Nick edged past me, his sneakers hushed on the wooden floor. His blue plaid shirt was tucked into his jeans, and I caught him before he made it to the sanctuary, pulling him back into the dark foyer. The skin about his neck almost seemed to glow in the dusk, nicely tanned and so smooth it begged for my fingers to trace the outline of his shoulders. “Where’s my kiss?” I complained.

The worried look pinching his eyes vanished. Giving me a lopsided smile, he put his long hands about my waist. “Sorry,” he said. “You kind of threw me there.”

“Aw,” I gently kidded him. “What’re you worried about?”