Unlikely. Glasses-guy was giving Holly bedroom eyes and she…
She leaned closer to him. Her arm brushed against his and I was no expert, but I was pretty sure that meant she was into him. “She seems happy enough with that guy.”
“Ugh,” Dahlia groaned dramatically. “Trust me, that won’t last more than five minutes. But you two… You could be great—if you know the rules.”
I tore my gaze away from Holly to fix Dahlia with a skeptical look. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s playing a game,” Dahlia said pointedly. She waited for me to put the pieces she’d laid out together, but they made no sense. When I didn’t respond, she added, “Tell her a secret, and she’ll grant you a wish. That man is almost to the end of his game, but you could outsmart her. Wish to spend the night together—no sex, no tricks. Just a night of fun.”
Her game. Right. I was surprised Holly was still doing that after all these years. Then again, back in college, she always said this was her favorite holiday. I had the chance to play once and blew it. Holly rejected my wish for a date, before even hearing my secret. “And why would she agree to that? She doesn’t know me.”
Dahlia’s grin widened. “Because I know my sister. Holly won’t be able to resist.”
“Sister?” I said, frowning, the single word enough to pull me away from the temptation of crossing the bar. My gaze flickedfrom Holly to Dahlia and then back again. “You two look nothing alike.”
“Half-sister, but that’s not important,” Dahlia said, her tone turning serious for the first time. “Trust me, she’ll love you.”
I shook my head, smirking faintly. Now, things were making sense. Dahlia was playing matchmaker. It was flattering, if not a little odd. If only she knew I’d already tried once, during freshman year, and struck out. “And here I thought you were trying to hook up with me.” I touched my chest and pretended to be sad. “I’m heartbroken.”
“You’ll be heartbroken if you don’t act fast.” Dahlia plucked the mug of warm beer from my hand and shoved me forward. “Now, go!”
HOLLY
O'Malley's buzzed with life—the clink of glasses, bursts of raucous laughter, and the hum of a hundred conversations merging into a single, chaotic melody. Yet, somehow, it all faded into the background when this man touched me. It was just him and me, standing there in the thick haze of fryer grease and stale beer.
My pulse thundered in my ears as his hand closed over mine, warm and steady, like it belonged there. I stepped closer to the high-top table behind me, and the sticky floor tugged at my heels. It grounded me in a way my spiraling thoughts couldn’t. I glanced up at him, catching the way the dim, flickering neon lights played off his green eyes.
This had to be Dahlia’s doing. My sister loved meddling and this situation screamed of her handiwork. But why tonight? Why him?
I wanted to look around, to search the room for her telltale smirk, but I couldn’t tear my gaze fromhim. A flash of heat surged through me. His presence was thrilling, almost intoxicating.
And terrifying.
So, so terrifying.
“I really should go,” I said, the words weak and unconvincing, even to my own ears.
“Wait!” he said quickly, his voice low but insistent. His grip on my hand didn’t tighten, but it was firm enough to keep me rooted. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw something vulnerable flicker there.
“I promised my brothers I’d find a wife before the end of summer,” he said, his tone calm but tinged with something darker. “If I don’t, I lose the only thing I’ve ever cared about.”
I blinked, startled. “Why are you telling me this?”
My voice barely rose above the background noise, but it didn’t matter. His words had already triggered the familiar stir of my magic. It coiled in my chest, threading through my veins like a living thing. My breath caught at the realization that the binding was happening—my power responded to his confession, wrapped itself around his words, and tethered me to his secret before I’d even heard his wish.
No! My thoughts raced, trying to understand what was happening. My magic had never betrayed me before—never acted of its own accord. It always obeyed me, like an extension of my will. But tonight, the rules we’d followed for years had somehow changed.
He smiled faintly with a practiced sort of ease that didn’t reach his eyes. “Those are still the rules, aren’t they? I tell you a secret, and you grant me a wish. That’s how this works.”
I forced a laugh, though panic simmered beneath the surface. “Let me guess—you wish for me to be your wife?”
His laugh was genuine this time, a soft, rich sound that caught me off guard because I’d heard it before. I just couldn’t remember where. “You’re beautiful, but no. That’d be weird and it would break the rules.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To spend the night with you,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Oh!” I said, stunned again. This was a first. I was used to people wishing for money, cars, or bigger body parts—frivolous, superficial things.
