“Beautiful, Blossom,” Mayor Nightson offers, tracing a finger over my image, and I can hear the sincerity in her voice.
Witches call out compliments, and I drop my eyes and fiddle with my ring, feeling exposed yet pleased.
“Pumpkin Prince,” Papa prompts, “if you could show us yours.”
Manny nods.
“I call itHome,” he says, and I roll my eyes at his taunt.
Then, the wolf turns his creation to face the crowd.
His pumpkin is covered in flowers.
11
BLOSSOM
As my papaplaces the crown on my head, I can’t help the silly grin that overtakes my face or the way my eyes seek out the Pumpkin Prince.
Manny is off to the side, clapping like everyone else. The wolf even has on a smile.
But his gaze catches mine, and I spy the regret in them.
We both know what this win means.
He lost the wager. I don’t have to move to Folk Haven.
And I never have to kiss him good-bye again.
Last night could be a onetime deal. I could shrug it off as a hate fuck and move on. Forget the way he touched me. Stroked me. Lay beneath me with my name on his lips and awe in his eyes.
It was one night. One night can’t rewrite years of animosity.
Still, after accepting congratulations from what seems like hundreds of witches, I gravitate toward a shadowy space between two trees, where he waits.
“You wear it well.” Manny tilts his head toward mine, and I reach up to finger the delicate metal construction.
“Told you I’d win.”
“That you did.” He stares at me. Into me.
I shiver under the weight of his attention. “Victory would have been sweeter if you’d tried harder on that last one. What even was that design?”
The smirk he gives me has a secretive edge. “You’ll figure it out.”
I squint my eyes at him, but then shrug. If the wolf wants to be elusive, then that’s his prerogative.
Manny reaches forward and hooks a single finger in the belt loop of my jeans. He uses his hold to tug me closer, into the shadows with him until we can hear the gathering, but not see anyone. Effectively alone, he cages me against the trunk of an oak tree, leaves crunching under the thick soles of his boot.
“What’s your plan, Pumpkin Queen?”
“My plan?”
He leans in to drag his nose up the column of my neck. “Now that you have the crown, will you conquer Folk Haven? Make this town yours?”
Having him this close, his heat surrounding me, makes my body tight and my voice hoarse. The tree at my back hums with life and encourages me closer to the man.
But my mouth sticks to old habits. “That wasn’t the bet.”
