Page 17 of Once Upon a Curse for True Love (Paranormal Romance #2)

Andromeda groaned, hiding her face in the pillow. “I plead temporary insanity, residual comfort-food euphoria. He fed me Chinese food, Shelly. You know how I get around good dumplings.”

“Orgasmic,” Sarah Michelle supplied helpfully. “But that doesn’t explain the kiss on our porch.”

“We didn’t kiss.”

Nox, who had jumped onto the coffee table, snickered. “Then why did you two jump apart like scalded cats when we opened the door? Were you comparing dental work?”

“Andromeda,” Quill began in his most prim voice, “might I remind you that engaging in romantic entanglements with the very individual overseeing your community service could constitute a conflict of interest? Not to mention, the man arrested you. He kicked in our door. He—”

“Yes, Quill, I’m aware,” Andromeda cut him off. “I was there.”

Sarah Michelle leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “Do you have a secret kink for handcuffs?”

“No, I don’t!” Andromeda shouted, then lowered her voice when she realized how defensive she sounded. “Look, it was… a moment. A weird, confusing blip that’s over, thanks to your impeccable timing.”

“Uh-huh.” Sarah Michelle looked unconvinced. “So your hormones didn’t go haywire when Detective Tall, Dark, and Dominant got up in your personal space?”

Andromeda let out a long, defeated sigh, slumping farther into the couch. “Fine. My lady parts are… not indifferent to him.”

“Your ‘lady parts?’” Sarah Michelle repeated, eyebrow high. “What are you, twelve?”

“Would you prefer I use more anatomically correct terminology?” Andromeda shot back. “Because I can go into explicit detail about which bits are reacting how if you’d like.”

“Please don’t,” Quill squeaked, his quills flattening in distress. “There are present parties with delicate sensibilities.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nox chimed in. “I’d love to hear what’s doing what. Does the detective know about this yet, or is he still in the dark about your lady garden’s enthusiasm?”

“Hex off,” Andromeda muttered, wondering if it was possible to die from embarrassment. “Can we please change the subject before I cast a silence spell on all of you?”

But Sarah Michelle wasn’t about to let her off the hook. “Not a chance, Andy.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Andromeda pointed out. “This is… I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s called attraction.” Sarah Michelle’s tone softened. “It happens to the best of us, even with insufferable men who introduce themselves by arresting us.”

“What else do you know about him? Beyond the whole ‘kicks down doors first, asks questions later’ approach to law enforcement.”

Sarah Michelle considered the question, tilting her head. “He’s a good detective. Thorough. Committed. He can be intense about cases.”

“And?” Andromeda prompted.

“And…” Shelly pursed her lips. “He’s decent.

Underneath the swagger, he cares about getting things right.

He’s been with SMPD for about five years now, worked his way to detective pretty fast. Has one of the highest closure rates in the department.

And when Chief King pulled me off Lorcan’s case last year, he didn’t gloat.

Malatesta let me still work on it, sharing the credit when we made the final arrest.”

“Anything else? Like, I don’t know, why he’s allergic to common courtesy and normal human interactions?”

Sarah Michelle laughed. “He’s a lone wolf. Doesn’t socialize much with the rest of the department. Keeps to himself.”

“Any specific red flags why?” Andromeda asked, curious.

At this, Sarah Michelle’s expression clouded. “Not sure. There are rumors, but…” She shrugged. “You know how departmental gossip can be. Mostly nonsense.”

“What rumors?” Andromeda pressed.

“The most common one is that before he transferred from Chicago, he had a partner who died in the line of duty,” Sarah Michelle mumbled. “But he never talks about it, and nobody asks.”

A small, uncomfortable knot tied Andromeda’s stomach. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Her friend nodded. “So cut him slack on the social graces front. He’s a decent guy who can be a cocky jerk sometimes, but aren’t we all?”

“You are,” Andromeda agreed, earning herself a playful swat from her roommate.

“Look who’s talking, Miss I-Turn-People’s-Hair-Purple.”

“He deserved it.” Andromeda went defensive. “And it looks good on him, anyway. The lilac works in his favor.”

“I bet you’d like to work him, too,” Nox muttered.

“Think of your professional obligations!” Quill persisted. “This arrangement is a legal sentence, not a dating opportunity! A dalliance is ill-advised.”

“I’m not planning a dalliance.” Andromeda sighed.

The hedgehog shot Shelly a pleading look. “Please explain to her how unwise this is.”

Sarah Michelle’s eyes crinkled. “You mean how it’d be reckless to get involved with someone she met during a murder investigation, who initially saw her as a suspect?” She tapped her chin. “I don’t know, Quill. I’ll have to think about that and get back to you.”

Andromeda snorted at her familiar. “She met Lorcan the same way.”

The two witches burst out laughing. Because Sarah Michelle had arrested her boyfriend for murder the previous Halloween. After proving his innocence, they’d fallen into a whirlwind romance that had been going strong ever since.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Sarah Michelle’s eyes lit up, and she was on her feet in an instant, overnight bag in hand.

“That’ll be Tall, Blond, and Magical,” she said, using Andromeda’s preferred nickname for Lorcan. “I’m off. Don’t curse anyone else’s hair while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Andromeda called after her as Sarah Michelle reached the door.

Lorcan’s voice echoed low in the entryway, followed by Sarah Michelle’s laugh. A moment later, her roommate was gone, and the house became uncomfortably quiet.

Nox had gone with Sarah Michelle, leaving Andromeda alone with Quill, who was still vibrating with disapproval on the coffee table.

“No lectures. I’m tired,” she warned.

“I would never presume to lecture.” Quill sniffed, even if his entire tiny body radiated judgment. “Merely to express concern for your welfare and choices.”

“Noted,” Andromeda conceded dryly. “Consider your concerns expressed.”

With a huff that contained at least three centuries worth of disapproval, Quill waddled off the table and out of the living room, presumably to go compose letters of complaint to whatever mystical entity governed familiar-witch relations.

Andromeda slumped, lying down with an arm covering her eyes.

The silence settled around her like a blanket—not a particularly comforting one.

She’d never minded being alone; in fact, she usually preferred it.

Dealing with people was not her strong suit, and solitude had always been a welcome refuge.

But tonight, the emptiness of the house felt strange, oppressive.

As if she were missing something—or someone.

Which was ridiculous. She’d only just met Donatello Malatesta, and most of their interactions so far had involved him accusing her of crimes she mostly hadn’t committed.

Hardly the foundation for… whatever this unsettled feeling was.

She was contemplating whether to drown her confusion in midnight ice cream or channel it into a late-night coding session when her phone rang.

An unknown number. A client with an emergency, most likely.

Not in the mood to work, she almost didn’t answer but then figured she could use the distraction.

She let it ring twice more before answering. “Hello?”

“Did Callidora give you grief?” Donatello’s deep voice poured through the phone, skipping past pleasantries. The sound sent an unwelcome warmth spreading low in her belly while something stupidly giddy bloomed behind Andromeda’s rib cage. “Grief about what?”

The other end of the line went silent, long enough that Andromeda thought he’d hung up. “That kiss on the porch.”

Her pulse jumped, a quicksilver flutter that raced from her chest to her fingertips. So Malatesta wasn’t one to beat around the bushes.

“Oh, that,” she said, aiming for casual and landing near breathless. “No, she didn’t give me grief. Just filled me in on some critical details about you.”

“Yeah?” His voice had the slightest edge to it now—curiosity mingled with caution and the usual cockiness. “Like what?”

“How you’re a decent guy but also a cocky jerk.”

Donatello low whistled. “High praise from Callidora. I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be. She mentioned your tendency to work alone, which suggests severe trust issues or the emotional availability of a brick wall. Neither makes for a great dating resume.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asked. Andromeda could picture him with that half-smirk on his face. “Dating?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, detective,” she said. “We haven’t even had that kiss yet.”

“Yet,” he repeated, and the word hung between them, charged with promise. “Optimistic of you.”

“Realistic,” she corrected. “We both know it’s going to happen if you keep looking at me like you did tonight.”

“How was that?” His voice had dropped lower, a rough edge to it that made her stomach flip.

“Like you’re deciding whether to arrest me again or push me up against the nearest wall.”

“Can it be both?”

“Mmm, I’ve had enough of your handcuffs for one week, detective.”

“Fair,” he conceded. “But you didn’t rule it out.”

“Let’s solve the case before we negotiate bedroom dynamics.”

“Boo-hoo,” Donatello disagreed, even if she could still hear the smile in his voice. “Speaking of our next steps…”

Just like that, they shifted from flirtatious banter to professional discussion, the transition smooth for two people who’d been at each other’s throats forty-eight hours ago.

The conversation flowed. Donatello confirmed a spyware had been found on Arcanet’s computer.

How the killer must’ve known when to send the email.

Andromeda asked to examine the code the next day.

Donatello told her they had to go see Professor Blackwood first, and before she knew it, an hour had passed.

“It’s getting late,” Donatello finally said, even if he sounded reluctant to end the call. “We should get some sleep. I’m going to knock early on your door again tomorrow, Swan.”

“As long as you knock, detective,” Andromeda agreed, surprised by how reluctant she was to hang up. “What time are you picking me up?”

“Seven.”

She groaned.

“And wear something professorial. We want to blend in at the university.”

“You don’t like my ripped jeans? I could pass for a student.”

“Maybe I like them too much,” he drawled. “I need to concentrate.”

Air went down the wrong pipe, and Andromeda coughed. “I’ll dust off my tweed and spectacles,” she promised dryly.

“Goodnight, Andromeda.” Hearing her name in his gravelly voice for the first time was like having defibrillator paddles slammed against her chest shocking her to life. Until now, she’d only ever been Swan or Miss Swan.

“Goodnight, detective,” she replied, unwilling to reciprocate the first-name basis yet.

After they hung up, Andromeda sat in the empty living room, her phone still warm in her hand.

The strange loneliness that had gripped her earlier had vanished, replaced by a humming anticipation for tomorrow, when she’d be reporting for duty to Detective Tall, Teasing, and So Much Trouble.