Chapter 4 #2
Quoth chews another handful of bird food.
“I’ve got it. Lancelot, the king has another important quest for you.
As you know, the king is responsible for setting the standards for weights and measures across the kingdom.
Well, unfortunately, the king’s long weight has been stolen.
He needs you to go out and find him a new one. Are you up to the task?”
“I am. I am. I shall search high and low for the long weight, and bring it back to the king in no time at all.” Lancelot leaps onto the back of the horse, and with a final, defiant neigh, they clatter back down the stairs and out the door of the shop.
The three of us regard each other over the poop mountain.
Quoth crunches his bird candy.
“The long weight!” Heathcliff rumbles. “That fool is going to ask every person in the village if they can help him find a long weight!”
“If I recall, you sent Quoth out to procure a long weight his first day in the shop,” I point out.
“Yes, because I thought he’d get tired of waiting and leave! But we all see how that worked out.” Heathcliff glares at Quoth.
“I don’t see a problem.” Quoth brushes tangled hair from his eyes as he digs out another handful of bird treats.
“He’ll find the hardware store, ask for the long weight, they’ll make him sit in the corner for an hour, then send him to the Grimdale store, where the process will repeat itself.
I got rid of him for at least all of today, you’ll see… omg, these are delicious.”
He wanders off to the bathroom, still crunching.
“Get rid of this rug!” Heathcliff yells after him.
The bathroom door slams shut.
‘Don’t look at me,” I slink back into my room, pulling my silken robe even tighter over my chest. “I don’t do faeces. Besides, someone told me I wasn’t to be home today, so I need to get ready for work.”
“Mina will be here any moment.” Heathcliff bends down, folds the corners of the rug into the centre, and picks up the whole thing. “I’m in no state to meet her, and there is horse dung on the floor. You have to distract her.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want me anywhere near her?”
“Just do it for me, or I’ll—”
“Mr Earnshaw, open up!” A female voice with a musical quality calls from the street.
Heathcliff’s face goes positively pale. He drops the rug, spilling horse manure all over his new pair of trousers. Oh, this is delightful. He shoves me towards the kitchen and races for my window.
“Can’t you read the sign?” he yells down at the street. “We’re closed.”
“Mr Earnshaw, it’s me, Mina Wilde. You hired me yesterday? You said I needed to show up at eight-thirty on the dot, no earlier, no later.”
“Fine. Go buy coffee while I find some trousers.” Heathcliff slams down the window and glares at me. “Go. Now. I’ve brought you ten minutes. I got to get cleaned up.”
Leaving Heathcliff to sort of the horse shit, I quickly pull on my most flattering suit, spritz myself with a bit of Versace Eros for men, and wander downstairs, casting my eye around the dusty, crowded shop with its friendly spider colonies, mismatched charity shop furniture, and signs warning people that if they’re caught taking photos of books to search on The-Store-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named later, they’ll be stuffed and mounted on the wall. A really friendly atmosphere.
If Mina Wilde doesn’t run a mile from this place, she’s already braver than most people.
I flick on the lights in the main room and peer out the window.
The village is already in full swing – people sit at the tables outside Greta’s bakery, sipping coffee and eating scones fresh from the oven.
A bus rumbles around the green, taking commuters and shoppers to the nearby villages of Grimdale and Crookshollow.
And a girl stomps up Butcher Street towards Nevermore Bookshop in a pair of bright red boots.
Hello, Mina Wilde.
I take the opportunity to study her, making my deductions the way my ex taught me.
She doesn’t have a lot of money. Her clothes are stylish, and she wears them well, but the tag sticking out of the back of her skirt has a village op shop sticker on it.
She wants to impress Heathcliff – not only is she carrying two steaming takeaway coffee cups, but she also has a pile of fresh scones.
She’s worried about something. She keeps looking over her shoulder as if she expects someone to be following her.
She’s intriguing.
She’s also strikingly beautiful.
To be fair, I find most people to be beautiful in their own way. Beauty to me is more about what will occupy my considerable intellect and deviant desires. But Mina Wilde has a pair of sparkling emerald eyes and a long mane of tangled dark hair that I long to wrap around my fist and…
Mmmmm.
No. Bad Moriarty.
I shouldn’t be thinking these things. Heathcliff and Quoth are already smitten with her. A good friend wouldn’t swoop in and take her for himself.
Fortunately for me, I’ve never claimed to be a good friend.
Mina grips the railing as she takes the steps up to the shop two at a time. She tries the door, glaring at it in puzzlement when she realises it’s locked. I race through the shop, my heart thudding in my chest in a surprisingly light way.
I grab my laptop case, as though I’m heading out to work, and throw open the door. Mina staggers backwards, her eyes widening in shock. One of the scones teeters dangerously on the top of her stack. I swipe it before it spills all over her. I may be a villain, but I’m also a hero.
“Why, you shouldn’t have.”
“Hey, that was for Mr Earnshaw.” She narrows her eyes at me.
“He doesn’t need it. Sugar makes him cranky.
” I take a big bite, aware that I’m blocking her entry into the shop, but she doesn’t exactly look like she minds.
Those dazzling eyes sweep over me, and she must still have some vision because the way she purses her lips indicates that she likes what she sees.
“Trust me, I’ve just saved you from a torturous morning.
No need to thank me. I’m James Moriarty, at your service. Everyone calls me Morrie.”
I offer her my hand. Mina reaches out tentatively and shakes it. Her fingers are soft, and there are a couple of interesting calluses. Either she recently had a job in taxidermy, or she spent a lot of time at a sewing machine.
Definitely the sewing machine. I note the bright orange stitching on her bag and the patches on her blazer. She works in fashion.
Worked in fashion.
Mina makes an adorable laugh-snort noise. “Your name is James Moriarty, like the villain from Sherlock Holmes? No wonder everyone calls you something else.”
“I can assure you, the association is a coincidence. James Moriarty the character fell off a cliff, and since I abhor the great outdoors, that’s unlikely to happen to me.
As is the nature of nicknames, I had no choice in the matter.
If I had, I’d make everyone call me ‘Your Highness.’ Or perhaps, ‘Oh well-endowed one.’” I wink at her, and she swallows hard, drawing my attention to her slender neck and that little place on her collarbone that makes many women writhe when I lick it.
A faint blush colours her cheeks, and I find I have to place my laptop case strategically to cover my arousal.
“You must be the new shop assistant. You won me a bet, so I like you already.”
“Bet?”
“Yes. I’ve been bugging His Royal Surliness to get an assistant for several months now.
He was convinced no one would want to work for him.
I bet him a hundred quid that if he put an ad on the app, he’d get at least one applicant.
He agreed to the bet on the condition that he wrote the ad and I uploaded it, since he doesn’t know what an app is.
And here you are, which is fascinating.” More than fascinating.
Mina’s presence is downright delightful.
I step back to let her into the shop when I hear a thud and someone shouting ‘Huzzah!’ from upstairs. Is Lancelot back already? I search for something to distract Mina, and what I came up with is the one game I used to play with my ex that never failed to impress someone we fancied.
I lean in close to her, so close that I catch a whiff of her orange blossom and smoky cedar scent, and I briefly find myself disoriented before composing myself once more.
You’ve got this, Moriarty. “You grew up in the village, but you’ve recently returned from overseas.
America, if I may be so bold? Perhaps New York? ”
She looks stunned. “How’d you know?”
“It was a series of simple deductions. I heard you speaking to Mrs Ellis, and from her words and her previous occupation as a teacher, I concluded you must have known each other from your youth. Even if you hadn’t yelled it in the street, I guessed New York because of the slight accent you’ve acquired.
That you’ve been away some time is evidenced by the fact that everyone in this village knows not to knock on this door before nine, if they know what’s good for them.
Especially if they’re carrying the wrong kind of coffee.
” I swipe one of the two lattes on the tray and took a sip. “He prefers his black.”
“And how do you know that?” she fumes. Her gaze flies to her purse. Ah, so she is broke and desperate. That alone I should have guessed by her determination to work for Heathcliff.
Intriguing.
Just then, Quoth’s voice lands in my ears. The knight situation is under control. You can let her in now.
“Ah, but that should be easy for you to deduce. No time to talk. The game is afoot.” I hop down the steps, my laptop case banging against my legs.
Mina opens her mouth to say something, but I’m already halfway down the street when I glance back.
A little trick – always leave them wanting more of you.
I smile at her and am rewarded by her biting her lower lip in a way that makes my body flush with warmth.
“If you ever get bored of trying to wrest an intelligent conversation out of your friend Earnshaw, go upstairs and wait for me. Oh, the fun we’ll have, Miss—”
“She’s not going upstairs.” Heathcliff appears in the doorway, his dark eyes burning with annoyance. He strides down the steps (curse that majestic frame of his), whips the remainder of the scone out of my hand, and stomps back into the shop.
“You’d better get inside within the next thirty seconds,” he yells to Mina from the other side of the door,” or I’m giving your job to the bird.”
Mina glances back at me, her shocked expression screaming, ‘Help me.’ And as much as I love a damsel in distress, it’s probably time for her to learn who she’s dealing with.
Besides, despite what I told Heathcliff and Quoth, I did actually have to get to the office.
“He’s a little precious about his personal space.
Honestly, I’m surprised he even lets customers into the shop.
I’m his flatmate, and he won’t even let me cook him dinner. And I’m a fantastic chef.”
“So you live upstairs, too? Do you also work in the shop?” Those soft fingers of hers grip the doorknob. With her other hand, she nervously plays with a strand of her hair. Was this because she doesn’t want to go after Heathcliff, or because she wants to stay and talk to me?
I note with interest how much I wish that it’s the latter.
“Not bloody likely. I have a real job.” At least, until they uncover my little game I’ve been playing with the accounts. I check my watch. “Which I should probably be getting to. But I’ll stick around for a few more minutes if you like, make sure he actually lets you touch the books.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Mina beams. At the sight of that smile, my dark heart thuds in my chest. I know I’m utterly lost.