Page 23 of Of Magic and Murder

Or has something brought him home for another reason?

And why am I suddenly terrified that it still has something to do with me?

I spent the rest of my afternoon working on shelving books and convincing myself that Riordan’s return to Moonburrow is one big coincidence. That it’s been days since I cast that spell for Honey, and if it really did something to yank his chain and call him home, he would’ve been scratching at the wards long before now.

Maybe it has everything to do with two recent murders in Moonburrow. Clutching at straws, I mention that to Roxy and Ash. The mated pair seem to think that makes the most amount of sense. Before, Max—as sheriff and Alpha—didn’t really need Riordan here for the supernatural town to function. But with not one, but two murders… especially when it seems the killer has to be a wolf shifter… it would probably be for the best if he came back to help Max investigate the crimes.

By the time Ash calls it for the day, telling me that he’s closing up the library, I’ve just about talked myself into believing that Riordan’s return has nothing to do with me at all. So Olivia is dead for real this time. Unless a witch can grow claws and fangs and leave no trace of his or herself behind, I didn’t do it. I’ve only been dragged into this murder because of my ability as a seer. Olivia wants me to figure out who killed her, but as far as I’m concerned, my involvement began and ended with me bringing the sheriff to her body. Now it’s up to the professionals to solve the crime while I focus on cleaning up the mess I made in the library.

See? No reason to fret about Riordan. My spell didn’t do anything to him, and if he’s interested in having me check out his curse and hopefully break it after the killer’s been caught, I can do that before I head on out for Salem.

And I cling to that belief until Riordan walks into Dough You Believe in Magic right before Honey is about to lock the front door for the evening.

That’s my fault. Following Roxy’s advice, I stopped at an apothecary located in the witchy side of Moonburrow. Despite how I gave my word to Olivia that I’d help her, I don’t agree that that means I’ve given up my right to privacy. So I bought a cutting of wormwood to add it to my indoor herb garden, and hope it’s enough to keep Olivia out of my personal space.

When I made it to the bakery, Honey was wiping down the pastry case. Max was leaning against the counter, drinking a cup of coffee and watching her with a small smile that didn’t hide the ferociousness in his golden gaze. Gus was sitting on the side counter, nibbling on an old-fashioned donut.

Since it was early enough, I’d gone through the front door. I planned on waving ‘hello’, checking to see if there were any leads that I could pass on to Olivia the next time I saw her, then hunkering down in my bedroom.

But then Honey noticed the wormwood cutting, and I got caught up in one of my long-winded explanations about herbology and its uses when it comes to witchcraft and spellcasting. I might’ve momentarily forgotten its properties earlier when I was talking to Roxy, but it all came rushing back after my trip to the apothecary.

Max nodded in begrudging approval, saying something about me warding my personal space while still keeping myself accessible in case his one true lead—our murder victim—comes back with reliable intel when his voice trailed to a close. He was watching the front window in that eagle-eye way that belongs to law enforcement, but even before the bell over the door jangled and Gus dropped his donut in excitement, I knew exactly who was walking through the door.

Riordan.

It’s Riordan.

And I’m standing in the space between the front door and Honey’s display case, clutching a potted plant to my chest and praying to the Goddess that my oversized cardigan would swallow me whole.

Two months later and he looks exactly the same as I remember.

Well, almost.

His dark hair is impeccably neat, slicked-back with either oil or hair gel. His expensive-looking clothes are perfectly tailored and pressed, from his silk shirt to his slacks. His sleeves are rolled to his forearms, showing off his muscular shape, his badge is clipped at his belt, and the familiar neon green wisps of his curse still curl faintly around him, visible to no one in this room other than me.

He’s model-handsome and too attractive for his own good, but there’s something else there. Unlike before, he looks tired. His face is a little leaner, and there’s a hard set to his jaw as he scopes out the bakery.

His gaze lands on his brother first. He nods before moving on, taking in Honey, then Gus as the opossum chitters in delight while racing right over to Riordan’s shiny black dress shoe. A small crack in his stony facade as he shoots a finger gun at Gus. The opossum goes up on his back legs, clutches his chest, and whirls around as though he was shot. Then, after doing a version of ‘playing dead’ that’s nowhere near as realistic as the time I scared the bejeezus out of him during one of his afternoon naps, Gus taps his deputy badge and bares his teeth at Riordan.

Riordan nods at him. “Heard Max made you a deputy for going after that witch. Good job, Gus.”

Gus preens.

Riordan’s attention goes to me. My hands shake and my stomach quivers. His expression becomes unreadable before his gaze glances off of me, returning to Max. “And I heard that the witch who gave us all this trouble is actually dead this time.”

My heart trips over itself. He might not be looking at me any longer, but there’s no way that it’s not a jab at what happened the last time we were in the same room. When he arrested me for killing Olivia because a few of my so-called sister witches accused me of a crime I didn’t commit, then he lost control of his temper and his curse.

Max sips his coffee. “Told you that yesterday morning when I called you.”

“You forgot to mention one little thing, though.”

“Did I? You were off-duty, Riordan. I gave you all the information I thought you needed to know since you weren’t acting as my chief deputy.”

Riordan thumbs the badge at this waist. “Well, I am now. And since you weren’t at the station for us to have this conversation, I thought I’d bring it here.” Another peek toward Honey. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. It’s time you two stop being hardheaded idiots.”

Max’s eyes flash, his wolf coming to the forefront. “Hardheaded? You want to talk about being hardheaded, Killer? I’m not the one who wasted any time. As soon as I knew that you⁠—”