At her rather insistent headbutt, I giggle. “I’m getting it. Just a minute.”
When I set the dish on the floor, she pounces on it, continuing to purr as she eats. I stroke her back, her long fur silky soft, her coat made up of a beautiful patchwork of orange, white, and black. Her bushy tail rises happily into the air as I give her one last pat.
I bypass my coffee maker—my tummy’s too anxious this morning for that much caffeine—and fill my kettle and set it on the stove. Pulling out one of Devina’s yummy homemade chai blends, I pop a tea bag into a mug and get ready to doctor it with milk and sugar. In no time at all, I hold a little cup of heaven, sweet and warm and flavored with the perfect blend of cinnamon, cardamom, and ginger.
Princess Buttercup trots over to where a square of morning sunlight warms the wooden floor and starts herafter-breakfast bath, while I sip my tea.
The last snow of winter sparkles over the wooded landscape outside, dusting the pine trees like decoration. A pair of cardinals hops into view, the crimson male catching my eye first, exactly as nature intends. His mate follows, her tawny brown color pretty in a softer, more subtle way. A smile tugs at my lips. They could be me and Luke, the gorgeous weredragon with his scarlet wings and tail commanding everyone’s attention.
Then I snort and murmur, “Don’t be silly, Skye. We’ll never be a couple.” At this point, I don’t even know if I have a job with him, let alone any kind of romantic interest.
Princess Buttercup makes an inquisitive noise.
“It’s nothing, sweetie. Just Mommy daydreaming.” Yep, that’s me, the single woman living alone who talks to her cat as if she can understand me. I take another sip of tea, the milky cinnamon sweetness rolling across my tongue.
She winds around my calves again, as if knowing I need comfort.
Magic shoots through me in a sizzle of electricity. Golden sparkles fill the air, flashing and growing until they blot out everything. I hear one last confused meow from my cat before being whirled away…
I land on the grassy lawn of my cute little backyard in springtime. White flowers cover my apple tree, and a gentle breeze carries their sweet scent. Then, over the chirping of happy birds, I hear my cat meow again, long and low and upset.
“Princess Buttercup!” I dart forward, my feather-covered slippers more pretty than practical, the soles a little slickon the grass. I half step, half fall the final foot to the tree, catching myself on the trunk.
My cat stares down at me from the highest branch and yowls for attention. I could swear it sounds exactly like a drawn-out cry of “Mommm!”
“How did you get up there?” Or maybe the real question should be: how did she getinhere, because I must be back inside the book.
I glance at the house behind me to confirm that this is indeed my backyard. Yep, that’s my little pink cottage, all right. All of this is really odd. Sure, the heroine in the book has a cat. Sure, she lives in a little house. But why am I seeing my cat andmyhouse? Is the spell using things from my mind to create the book’s settings?
More importantly, is this the real Princess Buttercup or just a facsimile? She was touching me when the spell sucked me into the book, so I better assume she’s real to be on the safe side.
“Skye! What’s wrong?”
I turn to find Luke hopping the low wooden fence that separates my yard from next door. Looking human again, he wears fireman pants held up by suspenders and nothing else.
My mouth falls open. Fudge me, his chest… his abs…
Hiseverything.
I swallow. Luke looks like a master sculptor carved his body, all wide shoulders and firm pecs and a six-pack so defined my fingers tingle to trace their lines. He’s got those indentations on his hips, the ones only really fit guys get, the ones I want to lick.
He’s staring at me with a similar intensity, his goldeneyes blazing with heat, making me glance down and realize I’m wearing the same lingerie I have on in the real world.
My cheeks flare with mortification. Oh, no, no, no. Can another book open up and swallow me whole? I’d even be willing to visit a non-fiction book, if it would get me away from here. I might adore reading about whoops-we’re-almost-naked encounters in romance books, but that doesn’t mean I want to live one!
“Wow, Skye. You look amazing.”
I giggle, but it’s notmedoing it—something has control of my body. My eyelashes flutter a mile a minute in a way I’ve never been able to perfect in real life. Then my mouth says, “I was so worried about Princess Buttercup I forgot I’m in my pajamas.”
“I never knew pajamas looked like that.” Luke’s tone is playful, and he hits me with a megawatt smile I’ve never seen on him before. It makes himdevastatinglyhandsome, and my heart flips and flutters as a million fireworks go off inside my chest.
“Yeah, well, I never knew this was the new firefighter uniform.” I flick a finger toward his shirtless torso. “Gotta say I approve.”
My stomach twists. Am I flirting? I don’t flirt! And withLuke? Snickerdoodle! Even if I did decide to flirt, someone I like is the absolutelastguy I’d be able to flirt with.
The feeling of being puppeted fades for a moment, and I gasp, “This isn’t me acting like this, I promise!”
Luke’s somewhat vapid smile quickly melts into his familiar scowl. “Yourbook is making us do these things.” His emphasis on the word “your” leaves no doubtas to what he thinks of my reading material.
