Logically, I know the man behind me loves my sister like his own. They’ve been best friends since she found him sulking in Papa’s apple orchard a week after moving to our magical town. She asked him to stand up here as the only other member of her bridal party. He wouldn’t do anything to ruin her special day.
But another part of my brain panics.
If that bow comes undone, I’ll look ridiculous. He won’t be able to resist himself.
Trying not to draw attention to myself, I hold Heather’s bouquet with one hand and reach behind me with the other, seeking out the bow on my lower back. My touch brushes warm, rough fingers.
I grab them in a death grip and dig my manicured nails into the sensitive skin of his palm, wishing I’d gotten stiletto acrylics so I could do some real damage. Still, there’s the softest grunt behind me, and he lets go of my dress.
But I don’t trust him, so I keep his roaming fingers in mine as Selena calls for the blessing of The Dark One—the witch goddess we all pray to.
Luckily, Jenny comes from an open-minded family. She and her human parents accepted the knowledge that witches were real with excited curiosity rather than fear and disdain.
“Under her dark eyes,” the coven leader intones, “I declare you two mated.”
Heather whoops before lunging forward to wrap her non-ribbon-tied arm around Jenny’s neck to drag the blushing woman in for a heated kiss.
In the joy of the moment, I briefly forget the nuisance at my back and cheer with the rest of the crowd. Heather and Jenny break apart and hold their bound hands up for all to see as the clapping and celebrating continue. On the other side of the forest clearing waits a cluster of tables full of food, a live band, and a dance floor. Time for the fun to begin.
Heather’s cheeks might rupture from how wide she’s grinning when her eyes meet mine.
I love you, I mouth, once again overwhelmed with happiness that she’s found her life partner.
She blows me a kiss. Then, her gaze flits up and over my shoulder, and she sends another kiss through the air to the man at my back.
The one whose wandering hand I’m still clutching.
I drop it fast and whirl on him, allowing my fury forward now that the quiet part of the ceremony is over.
Much to my annoyance, I have to lift my chin to meet a set of slate-gray eyes. A stare that always seems hungry.
The eyes belong to Manuel Ramirez. Werewolf, Heather’s best friend, and my nemesis.
“I’m about to rip your twig and berries off and feed them to you,” I snarl, low enough so only he hears.
Manny tilts his head, smiling slow, the leisurely action pairing entirely too well with his crisp white shirt, dark dress pants, and ivy-patterned suspenders. His brown hair is neatly combed back from his tan face, showing off a strong jaw and dangerous cheekbones. He is all Southern gentleman in appearance and all Southern devil at heart.
And even after years of his subtle tormenting, my body still tingles, just standing near him. If only annoyance could eradicate attraction.
“You had a bee. On your back. Landed on that pretty little bow. I was protecting you, Blossom.”
The way he says my name, practically purring the word, should not be allowed. He saysBlossomlike the flowery moniker is an endearment rather than what’s printed on my birth certificate.
Product of having a wood witch father. Root Fernmore loves plants as names.
Couldn’t have given me something slightly more mainstream though, could he?
“I didn’t feel a bee,” I snap. “What I felt was a handsy werewolf trying to untie my dress in the middle of my sister’smating.” With a jerk, I wave toward the crowd that’s rising from their seats to meander over to the party area.
Manny’s brow dips. “I’m not about to strip you in front of an audience.” A smirk pulls at his mouth. “I prefer some privacy for that.” Then, he leans down, mouth next to my ear, warm breath teasing the short brown curls I’ve neatly arranged. “Maybe you should try to be less tempting to dangerous things. How’s a bee meant to ignore a flower that smells so good?”
Heat flushes through my body.
What is this? What is happening?
It’s almost like Manny is flirting with me. But that is impossible because we hate each other.
We have for years.
