Page 43 of The Curse of Indy Moore (The Cursed Duology #1)

Where Indy Can't Deny

The summoning circle took us to the transit hall, where Mr. Hawthorne bid his good wishes.

We departed in less than a minute; I counted and would have joked about being impressed if I believed my voice could work.

The sensation of my arm in his held more weight than ever.

Being by his side, having his full attention so that he would even ignore his adoring fans made my heart flutter in ways it shouldn’t.

Mr. Hawthorne called for a carriage while Slate took off to further torment the city with his thievery, no doubt.

Mr. Hawthorne opened the door, playing the perfect gentleman, one I never had.

Baxter never offered a hand to guide me into a carriage.

He didn’t bow when opening a door or offer a charming smile.

All of that had been so ridiculous in my mind when I watched others, but as I sat in the carriage beside Mr. Hawthorne, I couldn’t deny that I was excited for the day to come.

“Please, tell me we aren’t shopping all day,” I still said, if only to hold on to a sense of normalcy .

“Would that be so bad?” he countered.

“I have acquired more clothes and jewelry these past few weeks than I have in my lifetime.”

“And that is such a sad admittance.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “We are making amends in more ways than shopping. First, we will find a place to grab a quick snack, a new experience for you, and you will not look at the menu.”

“How will I know what I want?”

“I will read it to you.”

“You are trying to hide the prices from me.”

His wink could make anyone swoon. “You catch on quick.”

The confines of the carriage made it impossible to avoid contact.

When the wheels jolted, our sides pressed firmly together, and a flare ignited in my chest. I gazed out the window to distract myself, but nothing could truly prevent my breath from catching after every caress of his arm against my shoulder.

The autumn day, neither hot nor cool, became sweltering in that little box fit for two.

When the carriage came to a halt, we arrived at a quaint diner, where a carved star on the sign fluttered about the name. Constellations twinkled in the windows containing various displays of space-themed confections. Peering in that window, however, put a damper on my mood.

I pivoted away and tripped over Mr. Hawthorne’s shoe.

He made a surprised remark, soon silenced by my body falling against his.

We stumbled before his elbows fell on either side of me, trapping me against the storefront, then enveloping me in his scent that overpowered all else.

These damn senses of mine would be the death of me, causing my heart to palpitate in a most obscene manner.

“I would like to apologize and emphasize that I am not making any advances toward you, Miss Moore. I was merely catching you, us,” he said, and the words were a punch when they shouldn’t have been.

“Yes, of course, I know that,” I muttered with my eyes firmly focused on his chest, although I wasn’t entirely sure that was a better place to look than his face.

We were practically touching, and I pressed myself harder against the glass, lest I do something foolish like reach out and touch him just to know what it would feel like.

“What troubled you?” he countered but didn’t move.

I didn’t want him to move, even if I really needed him to. “Huh?”

“Do you not wish to dine here?”

The door opened, and what I sought to avoid exited.

Poppy clung to the arm of a stranger, her eyes the same dazzling hazel hue I remembered and black hair combed into a viciously curled ponytail.

She wore a wide-skirted dress as blue as water and enchanted to move like one too.

If one stared long enough, they would be memorized, as I had been when we were teenagers.

Her smile had me at a loss for words, and when she braided her hair, I couldn’t stop myself from admiring how her fingers moved.

Now, she stunned me in a far less pleasant manner.

“Indy?” Poppy’s confusion morphed into elation. “Oh, my, it is you!”

Poppy and her companion approached. The woman on her arm wore a pinstripe suit fitted to her thin frame. Her blonde hair was beautifully braided, draped over her shoulder to her waist. Though they both smiled, my stomach wretched.

“What are you doing here? I never thought you’d leave Westshire, let alone make it all the way to the capital!

Have you finally decided to expand your horizons?

” Poppy laid her head on her partner’s arm.

“My ex-girlfriend from Westshire that I mentioned before.” She took a longer look at me and went slightly pink. “Oh, are we interrupting?”

“No. I tripped, that’s all.” I abruptly stood, nearly hitting Mr. Hawthorne’s chin in the process. He stumbled away. “My partner and I were about to head inside.”

Mr. Hawthorne stared. Poppy stared. Her partner smiled.

Why did I say that?

It’s not technically wrong. We were partners in the sense that we’re colleagues, but Poppy took it the other way, and now Mr. Hawthorne was going to correct and humiliate—

Mr. Hawthorne’s arm draped over my shoulders. He held me closer and set his head to the side to gently knock against my own. My entire body went obscenely hot. Earlier couldn’t compare to this moment when my mind shattered.

“Yes, I’ve been showing…” He caught himself before calling me Miss Moore. “My partner around town after she agreed to come to the city with me. I’m sorry, though, she has never mentioned you.”

My heart threatened to give out at any moment. He was too warm, too close.

“Poppy Harolds.” Poppy released her partner to give a short curtsy. “It is a pleasure to meet you…?”

“Mr. Rooke Hawthorne,” Poppy’s partner replied while removing her hat. She held out a hand for Mr. Hawthorne to shake. The two of them shared a knowing smile. “It has been so long. Since the LAA test, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Ms. Rachelle Welsh, correct? We attended Trinity Schoolhouse together, too,” he replied.

Rachelle stood taller, her smile more proud than gleeful. “We did, though I was a year above you.” Rachelle turned her attention to Poppy. She explained, “This is the artificer I told you about. Thanks to him, artificers like me are getting a better rep.”

He gave a pleasant laugh. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, although I am performing to the best of my abilities in hopes of tipping the scales, so to speak.”

“How incredible,” said Poppy, her eyes taking on a curious hue that typically meant she would spout off a thousand questions. However, Rachelle beat her to it.

“You do not give yourself the credit. Forgive me for gossiping, but I heard you’ve received an invitation to the Moonlit Ball yet again this year. That’s unheard of for those coming from Trinity Schoolhouse.” Rachelle certainly meant her compliments, though her eyes took on a darker hue, somber.

Mr. Hawthorne’s did as well. “Yes, I’m honored to have been invited once more. The two of us have been, actually.”

He gave my arm a playful squeeze, where his fingers gently rubbed my goosebump-covered skin. I needed him to stop, and I wanted more .

“We’ll have to put on a proper show for the noble houses with a dance, don’t you agree?” Mr. Hawthorne smiled at me, and I nodded because that’s all I could manage.

“And drink enough for all of us.” Rachelle tipped her hat while putting it back on. “Is it also true that you are working toward opening another school? Trinity Schoolhouse did wonders for me, but I know many young artificers still cannot attend.”

“I fear I cannot share many details concerning my ventures. However, I am hopeful to share very good news soon.”

Rachelle released a satisfied laugh, like someone lifted the greatest weight from her shoulders. “That is wonderful to hear. I’ll keep my ears open for this good news and, should you ever need help with anything, feel free to ask. I only wish I could do more.”

“Any help is appreciated.” Mr. Hawthorne rubbed my arm, but he suddenly stopped, his wide eyes on me, like he hadn’t realized his own motions.

Ever the actor, he recovered by offering an affable smile.

“While I am remiss to cut our conversation so short, we must head off. Good day to the both of you.”

“And you.” Rachelle offered her hand to shake.

Poppy looked dejected, but forced a smile while taking Rachelle's arm. “It was nice seeing you again, Indy,” she said.

“You too,” I muttered. Then Mr. Hawthorne guided us to the door.

Though he released me, his touch lingered, as if he had left a piece of him to take root in the garden I swore wouldn’t grow for him.

The door shut, and I stepped further into the interior, where every surface was painted black, though enchanted to look like the night sky.

We walked through the heavens themselves.

Silver tables sat about the room beneath chandeliers that bled starlight.

The food had been made to resemble the night, too, galaxy-colored and star-shaped.

I would have appreciated the beauty more had I not been so focused on Mr. Hawthorne.

He laid a gentle hand on the small of my back, encouraging further warmth that didn’t relent even as we took our seats. There, I waited for the inevitable .

“Partners. I was not informed of the sudden advancement of our relationship.” He sat an elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, eyes half-mast and dark, daring even. What that dare may be, I did not risk questioning or acting upon.

“I didn’t mean partners in a romantic capacity. We are partners, work partners, but they… You played along,” I argued. A server handed us menus. I reached for mine that he snatched away and read over, not bothering to hide his impish grin.

“Did you want me to correct you?”

“No, but you have no right to tease me.”

“I have every right as I did an excellent job playing your boyfriend.”