“Okay, sorry my mom sometimes takes over like that.”
His dark gaze fell on me, reminding me of what he’d said earlier about making my own choices.
To hide my pink cheeks, I rummaged through the fridge, looking for the rest of the meal. “You hungry?”
“Always.”
“Then why don’t I dish this up while you carry two pumpkins to the table?”
“On it.”
The food filled the air with the faint smell of nutmeg and cinnamon, and I ladled it into two bowls before bringing everything to the table where a fire crackled in the dining room hearth.
“Did you light that?” I chose a spot near the fire, soaking in its warmth.
“I’m good at turning up the heat.” He claimed the seat next to mine with a wink. “Plus, you don’t seem to enjoy being cold.”
My cheeks heated, and I looked down at my soup. I hadn’t expected him to notice… or care. But Riley was just being thoughtful because of the potion. That seemed to be my new mantra. I glanced at him a few times as we ate, taking advantage of the fact that his focus was on his food instead of me for once. His features were strong and prominent, as if someone had carved him out of stone, from his straight nose and dark eyes to his full lips that were almost perpetually raised in a knowing smirk. A hint ofhis tattoo peeked from his sleeve again—a serpentine tail, slender but powerful, like Riley.
Once we finished eating, we cleared the dishes, then sat to carve the pumpkins.
Riley held a knife in his hand as if testing the weight. “I haven’t carved a pumpkin in years.”
“Really?” I raised both eyebrows and started sketching, not even totally sure what shape I was going for yet. “We do it every year. Mom can’t stand the idea of losing to Mrs. Long so she always goes all out with decorating.”
“And Mrs. Long is…?”
“The woman who owns a boutique a few shops down. She’s my mom’s long-time enemy and even longer-time friend,” I said. “I think they were besties back in the day, but apparently Mrs. Long tried to steal my mom’s pumpkin chocolate chip cheesecake recipe for the annual bake-off, and they’ve been rivals ever since.”
“And that’s your friend Elaine’s aunt, right?”
“Yeah.” Rain lashed against the windows, and I jumped. “I guess you were right about the weather.”
“I usually am about these things.” Riley smiled an I-told-you-so grin. “So I take it your family has never lost the Spooktacular Showdown then?”
“Oh, no. We’ve lost plenty of times. Mom just hates it every time.” I added a few wings to the shape on my pumpkin, drawing from the memory of his tattoo and letting it take shape from there.
Riley laughed, a comforting sound as smooth as melted chocolate, and switched his knife for a permanent marker. “I see. Well, I guess I better do a good job with this then. I’d hate to disappoint your mother.”
“Join the club,” I muttered softly enough that the relentless drumming of the rain covered it.
Riley finished his sketch with a flourish. “What do you think?”
I studied the crooked smile with a few gaping teeth and the triangle eyes, then shrugged. “It’s okay for a beginner.”
“And what are you working on?” He looked over my shoulder at the dragon shape that had blossomed to life, and his smile widened. “Excellent choice.”
“Thanks.” Although most anything might seem like a good choice when compared to Riley’s simple design.
Between the rain’s steady beat on the roof and the crackle of the fire, it almost felt like a normal night carving pumpkins—except that Riley was here to talk about a murder investigation. And I didn’t usually carve pumpkins with a hot guy.
Riley went back to work. “Was Graham a big tea drinker?”
“Not particularly.”
“Which makes me wonder who that to-go drink was for.”
“Maybe Jaxon.” I chewed on my lip, thinking through the details. “It would make sense since it sounds like Graham went straight home after leaving the Tea and Tarot.”
