Nicky chuckled. “That’s just his front. You’ll see.”
The shop was small and cozy, but the glass display cases were filled with a stunning collection of baubles that made my eyes go wide. Even with my decent FMA salary, I couldn’t imagine there was anything in the store that fell within my budget. The people who shopped there were the elite of Chicago.
“Well, smack my ass!”
I turned toward the voice and blinked at the Tale behind the counter. He was movie star handsome, his golden brown hair falling in carefully styled, perfectly highlighted waves around his beautiful face. He came out from around the counter, moving with surprising grace. His silk shirt looked custom made, and, considering the way his slacks hugged his athletic build, they most likely were as well. The man’s warm blue eyes took us in at a glance and a slow smile curved his lips.
“Hel-lo, gorgeous!”
“Um . . . hi,” I stammered, glancing at Nicky, a little taken off guard by the enthusiastic compliment.
The man flashed a smooth, swoon-worthy grin. “Well, you are an adorable little dish, sweetie,” he said, “but I was actually talking to Nicky. How the hell are you, you tasty hunk of man?”
Oh. Got it.
My face flooded with warmth at my gaffe.
Nicky just chuckled and shook the man’s hand. “I’m hangin’ in there, my friend. How’s business?”
The man rolled his eyes and sagged, exaggerating each motion. “Oh, honey—I am so over Valentine’s Day! No one has any imagination these days. Hearts and diamonds—how appallingly passe!”
“You said it, girlfriend,” piped up a tall, slender man whose neon pink silk button-down was a striking contrast to his java skin. He leaned across the counter and gave Nicky a flirty grin. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Little Boy Blue. Did you finally decide to come blow my horn?”
“Stop being such a man-whore,” Nicky’s friend scolded. “You know Nicky doesn’t play that way.”
The man sighed dramatically. “A boy can dream.”
“Hey, Truman,” Nicky chuckled, jerking his chin in greeting. “How’s it hangin’?”
“To the left, honey, always to the left,” he said with a wink.
“Nicky, are you going to introduce us to your lovely companion?” the man before me prompted.
Nicky’s hand pressed the small of my back, sending a little jolt of happiness through me. “Trish Muffet, this is Ulrich Rumpelstiltskin and his partner, Truman. They’re friends of mine.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rumpelstiltskin,” I said, extending my hand.
“Just call me Rick,” he gushed, shaking my hand in both of his. “And I should’ve known who you were by the ringlets. I’ve heard all about you, sweetie!”
“Well, I haven’t,” Truman grumped, coming out from behind the counter to shake my hand as well. He tottered a little in his neon pink platform sandals—or it might’ve been the skin-tight hot pants. Tough call. “Nobody ever tells me anything. And by nobody, I mean Ulrich. He’s such a power-tripping bitch kitty.”
“I know one queen who needs to hold the drama,” Rick drawled, rolling his eyes. “Don’t mind Truman, Trish. He’s getting his period. Now, what brings you by?” Rick gave Nicky a sly look. “Are we ring shopping?”
Nicky’s cheeks went a little red, and he sent a quick glance my way. “No, no. Nothing like that. I, uh, I need a favor.”
Rick’s blue eyes widened with interest. “Oh, I like the sound of this already.” He grabbed my hands in his and said in a stage whisper, “Did you know I’ve been waiting to do Nicky a favor since he helped clear me of the kidnapping charge?”
“Kidnapping charge?” I echoed.
“Yes! Can you believe it? You try to take one baby in Make Believe and suddenly you’re the FMA’s prime suspect every time a kid goes missing. Puh-lease! As if I would’ve taken that Lindbergh baby!”
“The Lindbergh baby?” I gaped. “You were a suspect in the Lindbergh baby case?”
“Only for a few days,” Rick assured me. “I mean, seriously? He was an Ordinary! What would I have done with an Ordinary child? Such a sad affair, too. Just heartbreaking. Luckily, Nicky knew it wasn’t me and pulled a few strings to get everything cleared up.”
“So, what happened in Make Believe?” I asked, familiar with Rumpel—Rick’s story but knowing, like so many other Tales, stories had a way of being only partially true.
Truman made a whimpering noise and made his way back behind the jewelry counter where Rick joined him, draping his arm around Truman’s shoulders and giving him a comforting squeeze. “Just because Truman and I can’t have a baby of our own doesn’t mean we don’t want to be fathers,” Rick explained. “So, I made a deal with that stupid girl that I’d make her a queen, but you can see what a little jackass her son turned out to be!”
“She never even paid attention to little James,” Truman sighed, shaking his head.
“James?” I said, frowning. “James Charming?”
Rick sighed. “One and the same.”
“He would’ve been a hell of a lot better off with us,” Truman assured me, patting Rick’s hand.
“And he definitely would’ve had better taste in fashion,” Rick added, appalled.
“Oh, you know that’s right,” Truman said, snapping his fingers with a flourish.
“Did you see what he was wearing during his trial for fraud?” Rick asked me, clearly horrified. “Oh, honey, it was a pale blue catastrophe. Whoever let him dress himself should be convicted of being an accessory to a crime.”
I giggled, and now it was my turn to lean in, anxious to share more gossip with the two imps. “You think that was bad,” I whispered, “you should’ve seen him the night Lavender Seelie accidentally burned down the Charmings’ mansion last fall.” When they huddled up with me, I broke the news. “Gold lame bikini briefs with a smoking jacket.”
Truman gasped. “Oh, girl, he did not!”
I nodded. “And that’s not all—”
Nicky cut me off by taking my hand and pulling me to him. “I’ll let you gossip all you want later,” he said with an amused grin, “but right now I need to chat with Rick about that favor I mentioned.”
Rick gave me a wink. “Back to business, I guess,” he said, grimacing comically. “Come on up to the office, you two. Truman, mind the store.”
“Oh, I mind, trust me,” Truman called as we followed Rick to a set of stairs.
“Don’t be a bitch, honey,” Rick called over his shoulder. “It gives you frown lines.”
The second-floor was more an upscale loft apartment than an office and boasted a modern art collection that I guessed was worth millions of dollars. “The jewelry business must be treating you well,” Nicky said, his thoughts apparently in synch with my own.
Rick waved his words away. “Puh-lease! The jewelry business is a hobby. Who needs money when I can spin straw into gold? Do you have any idea what gold’s going for per ounce these days?”
“So that part of your story is true?” I asked. “You can really spin straw into gold?”
Rick shrugged as he eased down onto a plush white sofa. “Straw, leaves, grass . . . take your pick, sweetie.” To demonstrate, he picked up a flower in the vase on the glass table beside him and popped off the bud, then ran his fingertips down the stem, creating a delicate white gold chain.
“That’s gorgeous!” I told him.
Nicky shook his head in dismay. “Haven’t lost your touch, Rick.”
“Oh, I’m not finished yet,” Rick told him. He then picked up the flower and removed each of the petals, which he twisted and bent, fusing them together in an intricate design. Finally, he created a little loop and slid the pendant down the chain. When he finished, he held it aloft before my eyes. “What do you think?”
To my astonishment, it was an exact replica of Nicky’s spider tattoo. My eyes went wide. “How did you . . . ?” My words trailed off. His talent was beyond anything I’d ever seen.
Rick grinned. “A gift for you, sweetie.” But instead of giving it to me, he handed it to Nicky. “Care to do the honors?”
Nicky turned to me and fastened the necklace around my throat, his fingers tracing the delicate chain down its path to where the pendant rested at the V of my sweater just above my cleavage. “Beautiful,” he murmured, a hungry look coming into his eyes. He took my face in his hands and brushed a tender kiss to my mouth. Then he pressed his forehead to mine, closing his eyes for a moment.
When a polite cough reminded us that we weren’t alone, Nicky chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, putting his arm
