Page 1 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

CHAPTER ONE

milo

Pumpkin Hollow belonged to October. The second the clock struck midnight on September 30th, the spirit of the town woke up and smiled like a Cheshire cat. Because October was the time for magic. For mischief. For ghosts and ghouls…

…and one very, very sexy Chimera.

“You’d better watch your step, or you’ll put your foot through another jack-o’-lantern,” Grievance said after catching Milo sneaking glances at him.

“I wouldn’t have to keep looking if you’d stop wearing that damn vest.”

Milo didn’t even pretend to be subtle as he admired the way the sleeveless black denim vest hugged Grievance’s broad shoulders, leaving powerful, sun-bronzed arms completely exposed to the crisp autumn air.

Several necklaces rested against his chest, layered chains of gold and darkened silver, each one a treasure Grievance had collected and grown ridiculously fond of. Rings adorned several of his fingers, while a mismatched collection of bracelets circled his wrists—leather, metal, beads, and charms all jostling softly together. Even his long hair was adorned, pulled back with a delicate golden chain, an opal dangling beside his ear.

All of it only accented the lean muscle that shifted effortlessly as he carried three heavy wooden crates tucked beneath one arm as though they weighed no more than a basket of apples.

The dark tattoos winding across his chest and shoulders had changed again today, taking on the diamond pattern of hydra scales that made him look as though he wore living armor. Combined with the scar that cut from the corner of his mouth toward his jaw, the look should have been intimidating. Monstrous.

Instead, it made Milo’s mouth water, his eyes continuing to dart appreciatively over Grievance instead of watching where the hells he was going.

Milo shook his head. “It’s officially cold enough for you to put on a real shirt. I’m hiding that vest until summer—aah!”

Milo went pitching forward as his shoe caught the edge of a loose cobblestone. Grievance’s free arm shot out on instinct, catching him around the waist without so much as wobbling the three crates balanced in his other arm.

“Thanks,” Milo muttered.

The words had barely left his mouth before something fuzzy repeatedly smacked him across the temple.

“Nestmaker walks like frightened gazelle!”

His hidden companion readjusted himself atop Milo’s head, eight little legs searching for purchase among his curls. Milo supposed most people would find the sensation of a spider nestling into their hair unnerving, but he was so used to it by now that he barely noticed.

One got used to a lot of things when they lived with a bright blue, grossly enlarged, talking jumping spider.

Pip poked his four-eyed head out from beneath Milo’s pointed hat just long enough to bap him squarely on the forehead with a fuzzy, indignant little leg.

“Walk normal! Use brain!”

Milo sighed, straightening his hat, which only earned another muffled protest from beneath the brim.

“I do not walk like a gazelle,” Milo mumbled.

“Nestmaker walks like baby goat that hasn’t found its legs. Old enough to know better.”

Milo grumbled low enough that the sassy little opinion-haver under his hat didn’t hear.

Milo Jean Pembrooke was twenty-seven and had long since accepted that his lean frame wasn’t suddenly going to sprout muscles. He was built for long hours bent over cauldrons and reading books by the fireplace, not hauling crates through town. And yeah, fine, he could admit that he had a less-than-smooth gait when he walked.

But he didn’t feel like the awkward, knobby-kneed Healer Witch he’d been just a year ago.

Today, Milo felt particularly sharp, dressed in his full healer’s uniform, which lent him an air of confidence he didn’t always feel.

The navy coat fit his lean frame, tailored neatly with polished brass clasps. Beneath it peeked the crisp collar of a cream shirt, while a pointed witch’s hat sat proudly atop copper-brown curls that refused to stay tucked beneath the brim. Freckles dusted the bridge of his nose, and his bright green eyes—usually focused on herbs, potions, or whoever needed healing—were once again hopelessly fixed on the impossibly sexy man walking beside him.

“Nestmaker dumb around handsome monster,” Pip argued from somewhere inside the hat. “Maybe monster put on shirt.”

“Yeah, how about it… monster?” Milo stretched the last word just to see what would happen.