Page 10 of Frosted and Sliced

“There’s an also?” Georgie interrupted.

“There’s always an also,” Burke said. He took a breath and looked her straight in the eye. “I saved your life.”

“Excuse me? What?”

“That first day, you almost fell down the stairs. I saved your life.”

“Okay,” she drawled. “First of all, you almost killed me. Did you forget that you’re the reason I almost tumbled down the stairs? You were lurking, and I pinged off you. Second, thank you? Please live in my dusty attic, for services rendered, is thatwhat I’m supposed to say?” What exactly did he want from her, in this scenario?

“No, see, it doesn’t work like that.”

“Like what?” Did everyone walk away from conversations with this man thoroughly confused?

“You owe me a life debt.”

Her eyes bugged. “You’re going to stick around here until I save your life?”

He actually laughed at that, though laughter for him consisted of saying, “Ha,” with zero inflection, and then standing perfectly still, not even blinking while the “ha” settled. “That’s not likely, and that’s not what it means.”

“Fill a girl in, won’t you? I’m afraid I’m not caught up on the life debt manual,” Georgie groused.

“When someone saves your life, that person becomes responsible for it.”

“Mr. Burke.”

He almost visibly shrank back. “It’s Burke.”

“Burke,” she amended, gathering the hem of his army-green t-shirt in her fist. She wadded it and gave it a hard tug. “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard, and I have an older brother who was once a teenage boy, so I’ve heard a lot of dumb stuff.”

He yanked his shirt free of her grip and smoothed it. “My culture takes umbrage at your derision.”

“What culture? The culture of Weird Burglars Who Owe Life Debts and Live in Attics?”

“Yes, we meet on Wednesdays. Sometimes we’ll meet here, I hope that’s okay.”

She laughed and gave him another ineffectual shove. “You cannot be this weird and live in my attic.”

“By definition, doesn’t one have to be a weirdo to live in an attic?” he asked.

She tipped her head, studying him. “How weird are you?”

“I guess you’re going to have to roll the dice, if you want to find out,” he said.

And just like that, Georgette had a weirdo in her attic.

CHAPTER 5

In all, it took Burke ten minutes to move into Georgette’s attic. He carried in three bags, two of which ended up being a sleeping bag and tent. Those he set up in the dusty-critter strewn attic while Georgette watched, feeling vaguely unsettled. Was this okay? Should she offer him an actual room?

“You’re not going to light a fire, are you?” she asked as he set up his tent and drew a spare trunk close enough to place his duffle on. The space now resembled a campsite; all that was missing was a metal fire ring.

“Are you nuts? It’s the dry season. I’ll have to wait until it rains, at least,” he said.

“Ha, ha, I can’t get enough arson jokes, in reference to my living space, especially.”

He ignored her, as he seemed to do most of the time. She watched curiously, wringing her hands in nervous anxiety. “You’re not a criminal, are you?”

He gave her a side eyed glance. “Do you think I could work for the United States government if I were? Although, scratch that, I’ve known some cons who are gainfully employed by Uncle Sam.”

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