When I was younger, their love felt stifling. Like a too-tight life jacket when I wanted to swim unencumbered.
But now that I’m free to float on my own, I long to enfold myself in their caring orbit again.
And if being here means I get to defeat an annoying,too handsome for his own goodwerewolf, then that’s just a sweet bonus.
“Write down your guesses. Reveal your answers in ten seconds.”
Papa begins a dramatic countdown, and the crowd joins him. Meanwhile, I concentrate on the height and width of the pumpkin while also taking in the strain of Heath’s biceps.
Confident with my answer, I write out my guess.
510.
Manny is the type to write 501, in hopes that I’d choose a whole number. But he knows thatIknow he would do that, so I bet he expects me to write 502 or 505.
I figure 510 is safe.
“Time’s up! Show us your boards!”
I hold mine aloft and glance over to see the werewolf’s guess.
403.
I snort. Knew it. Only I’m sure he’s wildly underestimated.
Then, Heath sets the pumpkin down on a scale, and half the crowd groans when the number pops up on the digital display.
“Five hundred six pounds!” Papa roars, throwing me an apologetic smile.
It’s all I can do not to snap my whiteboard in half. When I see the triumphant grin on Manny’s face, I can’t help twisting my hand in the well-used gesture to tug on my magic.
And as if sensing my intent, the wolf’s hand flies up in time to catch the apple hurtling toward his head.
The arrogant asshole sinks his teeth into the crimson flesh as he saunters my way.
And I recall how I dug my own teeth into his lip only a week ago. Manny’s blood should have tasted metallic, but instead, it was full-bodied, like an expensive, dry red wine. I licked the droplets with relish and wanted more.
Then, I reminded myself that I was a witch, not a bloodthirsty beast, and admitting I liked anything about this wolf would only lead to disaster and mockery.
“If it had been closest guess, I would’ve had it,” I snarl at him.
“But it wasn’t.” Manny holds the half-eaten apple out to me, as if I might want a bite. As if I might be tempted to put my mouth where his just was.
Iamtempted, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“The next challenge starts in a half hour in the east field,” my dad calls out. Then, he throws Manny and me an eager grin before trotting off.
“Hear that?” I cross my arms over my chest and glare up at the aggravatingly attractive werewolf. “You have a whole thirty minutes to pretend like you’re smarter than me.”
Manny slips closer without seeming to move his feet. “Hmm,” he rumbles deep in his throat. “Then, what?”
“Then,” I hiss, pressing up on my toes to shove my face into his, “I will destroy you.”
Instead of being cowed by my very frightening threat, Manny keeps on smirking. The expression only fades when his stare drops to my mouth, then lower to my heaving chest.
Wait, why is my chest heaving?
“You get so worked up,” he mutters, his slate eyes finding mine again. “It’s adorable.”
