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With more courage than she actually felt, she wiggled her fingers, trying spin a tiny bit of sorcery, took a deep breath, and leapt into the opening to the kitchen hollering, “Wazzah!”

She wasn’t sure why she thoughtwazzahwas appropriate in this circumstance, but once it was out, she went with it, and brandished her broom like a weapon.

But what she saw dispelled all feelings of fright, and replaced it with brimming vexation, and whatever sparkle of magic her fingers aroused, it was gone now.

“You!” she snarled.

There, standing in front of the sink, washing her dishes, was a man with a neat handlebar mustache, a crisp waistcoat, and eyes the brilliance and color of bioluminescent foxfire.

“Indeed,” he replied with a lazy smile, his gaze catching on the broom. “Are you planning on using that thing or is it just for show?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, returning to the dishes as though this was all perfectly normal.

Willow, so incredulous at the audacity of this man, stuttered as she pointed to the door. “G-g-get out!”

Montgomery paused in the middle of sudsy-sponging a highball glass, tilted his head without even looking at Willow, and simply said, “No.”

“I’m serious,” Willow cried. “Get out or I’ll call the cops.”

A humorless half-laugh escaped Montgomery’s lips. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea.”

“Why not?”

Then, setting the glass down in the sink, he gave her a hard stare over his shoulder. “Because they’ll think you’re out of your mind, and I’ll still be here, watching you try to convince them that someone they can’t see washed your dirty dishes and mopped the floor.”

“It was you?Youmopped my floor?”

“Myfloor, but let’s not get caught up in the minutiae.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you mop the floor? And why are you washing the dishes? Are you some kind of… cleaning bandit?”

He laughed, this time genuinely amused. If he wasn’t so infuriating (and hadn’t broken into her shop), the deep timbre of his laughter, and the hint of a dimple hiding behind that mustache, would have made Willow swoon a little.

“No, not a cleaning bandit,” he said.

“Then why are you cleaning my dishes?”

“Because you are a slob. And frankly, it’s driving me nuts.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Willow sensed Montgomery didn’t seem to care much for the trajectory of this conversation and was given further confirmation of this when he merely shook his head and resumed his work without saying another word.

“Wait. Back up a little. What did you mean when you said I’d‘be trying to convince the police that someone they can’t see washed my dishes?’Do you have some creepy hiding place I don’t know about? Because I will smoke you out, sir.”

He chuckled at that, rinsing off the glass, placing it on the drying rack, and shutting off the faucet. Then, he turned to face her with smug confidence. “I’m afraid that would be an exercise in futility, Miss Ravensong. No matter how hard you try, your efforts to get rid of me will prove to be a disappointment at best.”

“Oh? We’ll see about that.”

“I suppose we will.”

“I have resources. If you lay one finger on me, mister—”

For some reason, that made Montgomery laugh the hardest.