Page 10

I found Horst standing in front of the rat cage when I returned to the café.

“Glory O’Bryan,” he said, flashing me a “I can even make a woman forget she’s got a metric ton of baby rats squirming around” grin. “You seem to have more rats than I remember you having.”

“Apparently, Cupcake was pregnant.”

“Ah.” He propped one elbow on top of the cage and leaned his head against his fist. “What an interesting development.”

“That’s one word for it.” I joined him in front of the cage, looking in at the bundles of joy. “Go ahead and say it.”

“Say what?”

“‘I told you so.’”

“First, I don’t remember warning you that you were acquiring a pregnant rat. And second, that hardly seems productive right now.”

I studied him out of the corner of my eye. He could be so flippant that I usually assumed he was teasing me. But at the moment, he seemed nothing but sincere.

“Hey,” he said softly, tugging on a lavender lock of hair. “It’s going to be okay. This isn’t the worst thing that could happen.”

“I have a birthday party in less than three weeks,” I said. “And now I’m going to have a cage full of rats. And I still need to find a Princess Palollipop, and I need to find myself a more professional apron than my bedazzled cat one, and I need to plan my baking, and...”

“Okay, first of all,” he said, “consider the rats a birthday party bonus. Are you charging for the extra furry creatures that will be on display during this party? No. So that’s a freebie. It’s like a hundred extra fuzzy things.”

“Value added,” I muttered, even though I was pretty sure no business blog I’d read would classify a passel of naked baby rats as added value in most ventures.

But a dimple flickered in Horst’s cheek. “Sure, sure. Value added. As for the rest of it...look, I’m going to admit that some of those words made no sense to me. You need a lollipop?”

“Princess Palollipop.” When he said nothing, I added, “She’s a cartoon princess. I promised I could get the real Princess Palollipop to come to the party.”

I waited for him to tell me that had been a terrible decision, that you should never promise a princess who didn’t, you know, actually exist. But instead he simply placed one hand under my chin and tipped it up gently so he could meet my gaze. “You know where we find princesses?”

I really, really hoped the answer wasn’t some sort of sleazy line designed to get me into bed.

Okay—it wouldn’t have been the worst thing if it was.

But it wasn’t. “The Enchanted Forest,” he said.

“I didn’t think they had princesses there.”

He waved one hand. “Not usually, but they do throw parties, and sometimes their guests request princesses, and you know what that means? They know all the best local princesses.”

Well, that made sense. “I guess I could call Cass...”

Horst shook his head. “We’ll just head over there and pay her a visit. She’d love for you to see the place. You know...officially.”

I supposed that sneaking into the park after hours, “borrowing” the park’s giant goose vehicle, and seeing an enchanting light show courtesy of Horst, his kobolds, and some bioluminescent algae wasn’t quite the same as visiting the park legally.

“Sounds good. I’ll grab my purse.”

“Maybe we can see if they want to adopt a couple rats. Or maybe a dozen.”

Somehow I doubted they would.