Oracle: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 1), Carissa Andrews [read my book .txt] 📗

going to flip a lid. I’m sure he had no idea helping on this case would actually mean leaving the country.

“Yeah, okay. Good point,” I nod. “Good luck with Ted and Lacy.”

“Thanks,” he says, his eyes searching mine for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it again; his tongue briefly sweeping across his lower lip. It’s a somewhat distracting motion—and I have to look away to break free from its intensity.

“Hey Aiden,” I call, “thanks for your help. See you when we get back.”

Aiden’s head pops into the hallway. He eyes the two of us, standing less than a foot apart, then extends his arm into the hall. My purse dangles from his wrist.

“Don’t forget your purse … and no problem, Diana. Wish I could go, too, but I don’t think my professors would understand. Or my bank account,” he chuckles.

“At least you have our backs from here, right?” I say, smiling.

“Always,” he says, with a single nod of agreement.

12

RENALDO’S JAW slacks open, “You’re going where?”

“Italy,” I say for the fourth time.

“And why is that again?” his eyebrow arcs.

“Oh, for Godsake, you already know why. Hell, you’re the one who practically pushed me into it.”

Ren feigns surprise, his hand pressing delicately against his chest. “I most certainly did not. I said to show the man what you can do and help him with the case—but I most certainly didn’t say run halfway around the world with him. I mean, what am I meant to tell your clientele? A couple of days, I can handle. Sure. No problem. But an open-ended question mark without their favorite psychic? They’re gonna freak. Oh my God, what about Mrs. Kaminski?” His eyes widen and he fans himself.

“What about her?” I chuckle under my breath.

“Don’t you give me that, Diana Hawthorne. You know damn well if that woman doesn’t find a way to connect with her cat every damn week she’ll be haunting my stoop daily until she can. She smells like kitty litter and dawn dish soap. This is not a position I want to be put in.”

“I’m sorry, Ren. I don’t know what to say. Unless we can find these guys quickly—and I’m hoping we can—we could end up being there a while. I don’t want to lie and say it will be quick. We’re not going all that way only to turn around empty handed. Who knows where they are right now. It’s going to take us at least a day just to get our bearings. By that point, they could be in a different country, for all I know.”

Renaldo shifts to his other foot and crosses his arms.

I sigh, “Okay, look. If Mrs. Kaminski gives you any trouble, let me know. I can see if Blake will help me set up one of those computer telecommunication program thingies. What’s the one called? Snipe?”

“Skype,” Ren says, running his hand over his face.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I meant. That way, I can still do a reading for her if she gets out of control. Sound good?”

“Oh my God, yes. Bless you,” Ren says, breathlessly as he drops his hands and grabs hold of both my arms.

My back goes rigid and I glance down at his hands. Too many images of him arguing with Brody flood my mind, mixed with long nights holding hands and making up.

He smiles awkwardly, then pretends to brush something off my sleeve, before letting go altogether.

“Great. Now that’s settled. I do have to discuss the matter of payroll…” I begin.

“Oh, here we go,” Renaldo says, taking a step back.

“Don’t worry. It’s no big deal. I’m going to be shooting you cash while I’m gone. But since I’m not here to look over time cards and whatnot—you’ll have to take what you get. It’ll be comparable to what your typical week is, though. We can work out any overages or shortfalls when I get back.”

Heaving a big sigh, Renaldo nods. “Works for me. For a moment there, I thought you were going to expect me to do all this from the goodness of my little black heart.”

“No—but I do expect you to be on time. Every day. We have to keep up the shop—especially with me gone. So, step up your game and make this place a hub for … what did you call them? Lust bunnies?”

I can’t help but chuckle. Renaldo does come up with the best names. He really does.

“Can you remind me what you consider … on time?” Ren says, shooting me a sideways glance.

“C’mon, man. We’ve been over this a bazillion times. 8am sharp. You need time to prep the shop before you open at nine. Feel free to open the doors early, if you’re ready.”

“Really? Eight in the morning? Has it always been that early?” he says, scrunching his nose.

“Yes. For the love of God, yes.” I reach up, tugging at the roots of my hair.

This is my ultimate battle. All the crazy people, the nonsense with my own life and amnesia from way back in the day—whatever, I’ll take it. But this … one day—I swear, I’ll get back at the universe for this.

“Huh. Wouldn’t it make more sense if I showed up at 8:30?”

I glare at him, knowing anything I say is pretty much wasted breath.

“Whatever,” I mumble, dropping my hands and reaching for my purse. “I gotta go pack.”

“Ooooh—oooh—it just occurred to me. Where are you staying? Are you guys, like, staying in a hotel together?” Ren’s eyes are wide and his lips curve upward.

I widen my stance, taking my best pot-head approach. “No, I figure we’ll hit the streets. Wander aimlessly. Maybe sleep in the piazza when we get tired,” I roll my eyes. “Of course, we’ll be in a hotel together. But no—before you get excited—not in the same room. We each have our own spaces, thank you very much.”

Ren’s face falls slightly. “Pity. I was about to break out the pom poms and send you off with a good luck cheer. Maybe