Aden picked up Amelia and spun her around, laughing like a loon when her entire bun slid out of its pins and landed on her shoulders, her curls bouncing. “You’re amazing, finding that hidden door in the cellar. I say we call that one a complete success.” “I think we do.” Amelia put her hands on his chest and pushed. “You can put me down now.” “Sorry.” He set her on her feet, careful to make sure she hadn’t lost a shoe. “Where do you want to do for a late supper? We should celebrate.” His euphoric mood crashed when Amelia stepped back, smoothing her dress down her body and frowning repressively at him. “I don’t.” “Don’t what?” Aden asked, dread building in the pit of his belly. “I don’t want to go to supper. Thank you for the party. And the dress. It was lovely, and the hunt was a hoot, as always.” She blinked rapidly, moistening her lips. “But I think this is our last case, Aden.” The dread ball turned into a lead balloon.
