“Adorable?” I grit my teeth when he goes to take another bite of the apple.
I can’t handle seeing his perfect white teeth dig into that crisp skin again. Can’t watch the sweet juice coat his lips. Can’t listen to the pleased hum he makes after every taste.
I snatch the fruit out of his grasp and wing it into the pumpkin patch, watching the Red Delicious soar an impressive distance.
Maybe apple chucking will be one of the challenges. Looks like I’d dominate.
“I wasn’t done with that,” Manny says, his expression disgruntled.
“Good.” Now, I’m the one smirking, enjoying seeing the grown man pout about his lost snack.
No need to dwell on my level of maturity. I will be an adult come Monday, when I have to go back to work as a college professor.
“That was quite a throw. Love this spirit of competition.” The delighted comment comes from Owen as he strolls up to us with a collection of other people.
Everyone wears relaxed smiles, and most hold steaming mugs of cider. For them, this is a fun outing.
But they don’t have a werewolf to conquer and a bet to win.
“Blossom is all about intimidation.” Manny gives his boss a one-armed hug hello. Then, the wolf turns to me and points people out. “You know Griffith, right? He bartends at Local Brew. Then, this is Jack, newest member of the pack, and Ame Shelly, one of the witches who opened the library on the lake. Jack, Ame, this is Blossom Fernmore.”
I’m thrown off-balance by Manny introducing me in his easy way. I was in verbal sparring mode, notmeet the new townsfolkmode.
“Hello.” I give them a jerky wave. “Welcome to The Patch.”
Technically, it’s called The Fernmore Pumpkin Patch, but everyone just calls this field of orange gourds The Patch. Papa loves the fact that his place has a nickname.
Manny slips up beside me and drapes an arm over my shoulders. As if this is the most normal thing in the world. As if I didn’t recently try to assault him with fruit and make him bleed after kissing him.
“Nice to meet you.” Ame returns my wave with a small smile of her own. “That was a good guess.”
I try not to grimace, knowing she’s just being nice.
“Yeah, but not the winning one, huh? Like to think I hire the best brains in town.” Owen taps his knuckles on Manny’s shoulder and puffs up his chest.
I’m tempted to poke the selkie right in his stomach to deflate him, but I tend to keep my physical assaults aimed at Manny.
Speaking of, I pinch his side in an attempt to extricate myself from his hold.
But the infuriating wolf only winces, then tugs me closer. And damn him, he smells good. The same way he tasted. Like a rich red wine that gets me drunk too fast.
“Just in case it wasn’t clear”—Griffith, the bartending werewolf, offers me an apologetic smile—“Owen and I are Team Wolf.”
And that’s when I notice their custom orange T-shirts that read, All hail the Pumpkin Prince!
Now that I acknowledge the design, I realize a decent portion of the crowd has them on.
“And I would like to make it clear,” Manny says, “I specifically requested younotmake shirts this year.”
Owen shrugs, grin unrepentant. “I had to. If I ordered more than fifty, they gave me a discount.”
“That’s terrible logic.”
Ignoring his Pumpkin Prince, the selkie turns his attention on Ame and Jack, the witch and the werewolf couple.
“What about you, newbies?” he asks. “Who are you rooting for?”
Jack fixes his dark eyes on the redhead whose hand he holds. “Who are we rooting for?”
