Page 16 of A Little Bit More

“Um, okay, eh, wouldn’t it be easier if I just grabbed some Magnums from their freezer?”

Three sets of shoulders slumped.

Betty let her head rest on the back of the seat and her eyes close. “Whatever you can manage. We don’t want to be a bother, do we, girls? Don’t worry, though, if I feel a bit more with it tomorrow, I’ll get your cones then.”

“No, it’s fine,” the mouse hurried to say. “I’ll get them now. Just don’t touch anything until I get back.”

“Dinnae fash,” Betty said. “We’ll be very well behaved. Won’t we girls?”

There was a chorus of agreement before the door closed on Lake’s latest receptionist.

As soon as she was out of sight, Betty launched herself from her chair. Which took some doing. Those chairs weren’t designed for wee round women with short legs. One of these days, she’d get around to having an ejector button built in to give her a bit of momentum getting out of the damn thing.

“Satan,” Lexie said, “are you being naughty?”

“Shh,” Grace hissed. “Mummy says we’re not to call Gran that.”

“It’s okay.” Betty rounded the counter and nabbed the key to the back room before tottering off in that direction. “I’ve been called worse, and anyway, I feel I’ve grown into the title.”

“What are we doing?” Lexie followed close at Betty’s back; no doubt worried she’d miss out on something.

“Getting back my property,” Betty said. Although, she supposed that technically it was still Lake’s, seeing as she’d borrowed it from him to begin with. But that was semantics. A woman shouldn’t be without protection—from condoms to Tasers, it was her God-given right to be ready for anything.

“What property?” Lexie slipped her hand into Betty’s, and that wizened old heart of hers clenched tight.

“My favorite Tasers.” Aye, plural. The bampots had confiscated all of them after she’d used them on Grunt during her wake.

“What’s Tasers?” Lexie asked once Betty had entered the four-digit code into the panel beside the door and opened the storeroom using the key she’d pilfered. The mouse needed to hide the code better an’ all.

“People use them for defending themselves.” Or for knocking out huge Americans so they could take a peek under his kilt.

“Do you hit people with it? Mummy says we shouldn’t hit anybody. But Daddy’s teaching me how to fight.” Her little frown could melt even the iciest heart, and Betty made a mental note to teach her how to make the most of it in the future. A girl needed to use all the weapons in her arsenal if she wanted to get ahead in this world. “I asked Daddy how I can fight without hitting, and he said if somebody hurts me, I can hit back.” She looked so woeful Betty almost laughed. “I don’t want to get hit first.”

“Aye, I’ve always thought it was better to be the first one to strike.”

“With a toaster?”

“Taser. But a toaster’ll do in a pinch. Especially if it’s plugged in and there’s water involved. Although, I’m sure you could clobber somebody over the head with it an’ all.”

“When is Molly coming back with ice cream? I want my ice cream,” Grace said.

Molly! That was the name of the latest mouse. At least she was a step up from the last one. He’d taken one look at Betty, burst into tears, and run from the shop. Literally. As though his backside were on fire. He’d quit his job by sending a mobile phone message to Lake. The youth of today had no backbone whatsoever—something she planned to remedy in the two wee bairns beside her. Aye, there was nothing so satisfying as molding young minds.

“Where’s the ice cream?” Grace said. “It’s taking sooooooooo long.”

“She’ll be back soon enough,” Betty said. Which meant they had to get a wiggle on.

Waddling into the stockroom, she let out a stream of curses. That bloody Lake Benson. He’d moved all the new Tasers to the top shelf—well out of her reach. “We need a ladder,” she said in disgust.

When she turned back around to go find one, Grace and Lexie were staring at her with their mouths hanging open.

“What?” Betty demanded. She didn’t have time for this. It only took so long to buy ice cream.

Grace stretched out her arm and pointed at Betty. “You said bad words.”

“Lots of bad words,” Lexie agreed.

“Are you sure I wasn’t just talking French?” she asked hopefully.