I look down at myself then up at her, loving how she’s visibly reacting to me. Now I just need her to likeHopperas much as she likes Jack. “You’re turning me into a thing to use to your advantage,” I tease, making a show of rebuttoning my buttons. She laughs, snagging my wrist in her grip as she begs, “no, no, keep it open.”
But just the quick grip of her hand on my wrist—even though she realizes her mistake and releases me within thirty seconds—it’s too much.
“Esther,” I breathe, blinking down at my work boots beneath the table. Just as white hair sprouts through my laces, the back door opens, and Mayor Goodall slides through the door, townspeople in tow.
“Baseball,” she whispers, “your grandma’s nightgown. Eye crusties in the morning. Bad breath,” she continues, trying desperately to rattle off every unsexy thing she can think of. “Mayor Goodall’s belly button.”
My nose twitches, and whiskers sprout from my face. Slapping my palm over my nose, my eyes widen as chatter fills in the space around us, more and more people coming in. I shake my head, panicked. I look at Esther in her bunny ears print dress, and the whiskers keep coming.
I’ve hid for years at Carrot Creek.
My family was never outed, either. I can’t be outed now. No way. It’s my greatest fear.
“Me marrying someone else,” she says, and my whiskers slide back beneath my skin, the hair burgeoning from my knuckles and toes immediately disappearing. My racing heart steadies as anger floods my veins at the thought of my mate being mated by another. Heat fills in the edges of my vision, and makes my throat hot and sticky.
“It worked,” she whispers, taking in my disposition.
I nod my head, letting the anger subside as I realize what this means. “See?” I whisper as townsfolk take seats in the folding chairs in front of the stage. “You know how to calm me, to keep me from shifting in front of others. You are my mate,” I tell her, but she’s already shaking her head, unwilling to accept it.
“No, I’m just… good with animals,” she says decidedly, as if selling herself on the answer. She gets to her feet, outstretching a hand and that’s when I realize Mayor Goodall is on stage. “Mayor, hello.”
He doesn’t shake her hand, which I’m glad of, but also,how the fuck dare he disrespect my mate that way?“Mayor Goodall, don’t be rude,” I say with a smile, making it impossible for him to get angry at the way I’ve pointed out his bad manners.
With a sigh, he shakes Esther’s hand. “Miss Basquette. How is your sister doing? She’s hosting it still, right?” he presses, adding, “but it’s funny, I don’t see her. You two wouldn’t be hiding an illness, would you? Hiding all the bad luck you’re bringing us?”
Esther wears a strong, proud smile, and my chest radiates adoration for how she handles this guy. Goodall has caught me post-shift once, naked in my garden, smeared in mud, stumps of carrots all around me. He was suspicious, rightfully, but couldn’t prove anything. It was when Chelsey Basquette came out of her cottage and pretended that she’d ask me to uncover all the stumps she buried that he finally let off, and wandered away.
Since then, though, Goodall has hated me and the Basquette sisters, though he’s only just met Esther for the first time. He suspects we’re up to something, and he’s not wrong. The thing is, though, he’s a total creep. Who wants to get rid of an Easter celebration in favor of anelectoral campaign? No one good, that’s who.
Esther must win. The Eggstravaganza must win.
I must win Esther over, too.
“Look,” he starts, stroking his hand down his mustache as he peers down at Esther’s tits. It’s not enough that he loses today, but I’m gonna make him pay for eyeing what’s mine. “The tradition started with your sister, and if she’s too sick to continue?—”
“She isn’t sick, okay?” She leans in, and lowers her voice. “Her foot is hurt, so she can’t easily get around. But I’m here, doing all the things that she normally does, so that the Eggstravaganza can go off without a hitch.”
Goodall doesn’t even look my way. “Tradition meanssame. And if the same person isn’t running it, it’s not the same celebration. And if we’re breaking tradition as it is, why don’t we do something more meaningful to the town,hm? Ensuring Carrot Creek keeps their beloved mayor in office seems like a great tradition to begin. What’s that expression, "out with the old, in with the new?”
Esther’s jaw ticks as she struggles to remain calm. “Do you know how many letters I’ve received from Carrot Creek? So many people adore this celebration, Mayor. I think it would be cruel to cancel it,” she says, then lowers her voice, stepping closer to him. “And it’s a touch selfish. Selfish isn’t a good look.”
Mayor Goodall throws his head back in laughter for a moment, and I glance around at the townspeople filling the chairs, watching he and Esther chat. He’s fake laughing to make it look like they’re chummy, and I won’t let him work my mate this way.
“Let’s give the town the choice to choose. After all, that’s why we’re here, right?” I offer, coming to stand between them. I want nothing more than to drop a supportive arm around my girl’s shoulders, but we both know I can’t. Not yet, at least. “Goodall, we’ll even let you go first.”
Standing off-stage, Esther and I stand nearly hip to hip, her sweet confectioners’ sugar and milk chocolate scent driving a rush of blood to my groin. Standing too close to Esther even if we’re not touching is proving risky, as my cock thickens in my jeans. Thank god for this tool belt, it’s hidingeverything.
I adjust my hammer, and wink at Esther, who blinks up at me wearing a smile. “I’m gonna get up there and talk about the importance of this festival,” she says, her tone warning. “Can you handle hearing details about Easter?”
I know I’m up there as eye-candy to help sell Esther’s point. Not that I’ve ever shown a lick of interest but I’m aware thatCarrot Creek loves their hunky handyman. If I can help Esther win, I’ll do anything. Controlling my Easter-driven eroticism for one important meeting will be simple.
Sure, Easter is the one day a year that I shift into my most primal, bunny form, hopping through the fields in search of my mate to enact the most carnal mating ritual possible.
And sure, I’ve never had the opportunity to mate on my holiday because I haven’t been lucky enough to meet my mate until now and yes, hearing about my humping holiday while my un-humped mate sits beside me will be tough.
But Esther needs this victory, Carrot Creek needs the victory, and I need Esther. Jumping my shoulders, I nod, nonchalant and cool. “Easy peasy.”
Goodall’s speech was shit, but it’s the last thing on my brain now.
