“Oh, Luke.” I swat at his shoulder, sliding my hand down to squeeze his biceps, an appreciative sound purring from theback of my throat. “Why should I watch where I’m going if I have a big, strong man like you to catch me?”
Blink. Blink. Flutter. Blink. Flutter. Flutter.
I start to wonder if the book heroine’s eyelash action is actually some new form of Morse code, sending out a steady signal of: do me now, big boy.
“You here for ice cream, babe?”
“You know it.” Flutter. Blink.
Before the book can make either of us say another word, the weirdest thing happens.
The server hands a woman the ice cream cone her boyfriend ordered for her, and she screams, “Oh, my god! Jeremy!”
The guy drops to the floor, which gets his head out of the way enough that I can see the diamond engagement ring sitting on top of a scoop of strawberry ice cream like the blingiest sprinkleever. “I couldn’t wait another two weeks for Valentine’s. I love you too much. Marry me, Chastity.”
“Interesting name for a spicy romance book character,” I murmur, wondering if it’s supposed to be ironic.
Then the book heroine takes the driver’s seat, and I lose control of my body. “Oh, Luke.” Blink. Blink. Flutter. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
It immediately gets worse. All around us, men start dropping like flies. I’d be worried I accidentally stepped into a post-apocalyptic romance, where some new disease just took out half of humanity, except each guy lands on a knee and holds up a ring.
Luke’s the only man left standing, and he looks pleased as he takes in the mass proposal happening all around us.
I squeal and clap my hands. “Valentine’s is just the most romantic time ever!”
“It sure is.” Luke pulls me into his arms, his eyes warm with adoration.
We dance in the middle of the ice cream shop, surrounded by embracing couples, like something choreographed for a musical. I sigh at the romance of it all as the golden sparkles carry me up and away, depositing me back in Luke’s library.
With oneveryirritated dragon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Lukendevener
None of the romance books I’ve read so far help explain what occurred in the ice cream shop. A few of them end with the main couple getting engaged or married, yet none of them haveeightproposals at the same time.
“Was that an instance of mass hysteria?” I fling a hand toward the romance book hanging in midair, taunting me, as I pace back and forth across the reading room. My wings refuse to settle, remaining half open, as if ready to take flight. “I’ve read that humans are prone to it.”
“I don’t think so,” Skye says, but her tone sounds uncertain, her forget-me-not eyes shadowed with confusion.
“Why do I miss all the fun?” Princess Buttercup huffs and leaps onto Skye’s lap. “Whatever this is sounds way better than being locked in a room while you eatchicken.”
“By the goddess,” I growl, “if I buy you your own chicken,will you let it go?”
“Deal,” the familiar says, licking her paw and stropping it over her cheek with a very self-satisfied air.
I share a glance with Skye, who’s biting her lower lip and trying not to snicker. “Did I just get manipulated by acat?”
“Sure did.” Her laugh bursts from her, so full of joy I can’t remain mad.
But confused by the book… yes, I can still feel that. What we just saw matches none of my research. How can human romance be this varied? It defies logic!
I slide into the chair beside the pretty little witch and drag a hand through my hair. “What just happened in the ice cream store?”
“I think because it’s a Valentine’s book, the author’s going to use that to throw a lot of external romance signals at the couple.” At my frown, she explains, “Seeing lots of other couples make a commitment to each other is supposed to inspire the main couple to do so, too.”
I nod, trusting her understanding of the situation.
