Can't Buy Me Love (Sinclair Sisters 3)

“Oh, yeah.” Even more so than before. Call him a masochist, but Agnes’ take-no-prisoners attitude did it for him.

“Let’s do upstairs first, and then there’s just the kitchen to cover.” She picked up the box of cameras.

And that’s when they heard it. A little doggy yip followed by a deep rumble.

Dougal was back.

“I thought you said he’d gone home,” Logan hissed as he grabbed the ladder and ran for the storage cupboard.

“He had,” Agnes snapped behind him.

Heavy footfalls on the stairs signaled that Dougal was very much there and heading their way.

Logan thrust the ladder into the closet as silently as he could, then stepped inside. Agnes came barreling in after him and pulled the door tight behind them. Her phone light came on, and she slowly inserted her key in the lock and turned it, securing them inside, just as Dougal’s footsteps arrived on the first floor.

Chapter 5

It was a good thing Logan didn’t suffer from claustrophobia, or he’d have been going out of his mind. Much like a pantry, the closet was narrow but deep, with shelving on three sides filled with bedding, soaps, coffee sachets, and assorted other things the housekeepers needed to stock their carts. It would have been plenty big enough for one person to move around, but with two people and a large metal ladder, it was a tight fit.

Agnes lifted her phone, typed a message and held it up to him. I think we should just come clean. Hiding in here is ridiculous.

But fun. Logan grinned before whispering against her ear, “I thought you didn’t want to have this conversation with him? There’s a good chance we can get this whole case solved without him having to know anything.”

They stood pressed against each other, her back to his front. He could feel the tension in her body as she weighed up the different options before typing again. If he catches us in here, I’ll get fired.

Logan didn’t think so—Dougal might be loud, but he was all bluster. He wouldn’t fire her for this. “We’ll just tell him we’re on a stakeout,” he whispered.

They heard a scraping at the door, and Agnes pressed back against him. He wrapped an arm around her, turning her to face him as he slowly angled her away from the door, wanting to put his body between her and Dougal. His behavior was more instinct than any worry her boss would strike out if he found them.

There was whining, followed by a yip and more scratching. The dog knew they were in there. Logan tried to swallow a chuckle, but it forced its way out. Quick as lightning, Agnes slapped a hand over his mouth and held on tight. Her disapproval was so loud he could almost hear her frown.

“What is it, boy?” Dougal whispered. Well, it was a whisper for him. For normal people, it was their usual voice. The man had volume-control issues and a deep need to hear himself talk. “Is something in there?”

The door handle rattled, and Logan tightened his arm around Agnes’ waist, pressing their chests together, making him painfully aware of all her soft curves against his firm muscle. His mouth watered, and his fingers itched to explore. If this temptation was some sort of test, he was worried he’d fail.

“It’s locked, boy,” Dougal said. “There’s nothing in there but soap and sheets. Now, come away. Let’s get this over with, so I can get some sleep.”

The dog kept scratching and whining.

“Arnold,” Dougal snapped. “Come here.”

There was another yip and then silence, making Logan hope the dog had done as it was told. They heard a knock and a door opening.

“I’m sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour, Mrs. Edwards, but Arnold left his favorite toy here, and he won’t go to sleep without it.”

“I totally understand,” the woman said. “I can’t get to sleep without my favorite Josh pillow.”

That set Logan off again. Covering his mouth tight with her hand, Agnes kicked him in the shin to stop him. Unfortunately, the kick must have attracted the dog’s attention, and it started scratching at the door all over again.

“Arnold,” Dougal called. “Get over here. I have your toy. Look, here it is.”

“That’s an interesting toy,” Mrs. Edwards said. “It’s an eggplant, isn’t it?”

“Aye, although we call it an aubergine here in Scotland. It’s one of them emoji things the kids like. One of the teens gave it to me, and Arnold fair enjoys chewing on it. They also gave him one of those poop emojis, but I don’t let him have that one in public. Kids today, there’s no accounting for what goes

on in their heads.”

It was too much. Logan tore his mouth from Agnes’ hand and buried his face in the crook of her neck, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. He would bet she wanted to hit him again but didn’t want to lure the dog back to the door.