“I don’t know,” I say, my lips twitching into a laugh despite myself. “This conversation?”
His laugh is low, curling through me like warm smoke. “You’re feisty tonight.”
“I’m tired,” I counter, though it comes out more breathless than firm.
“Then let me wake you up.” He wiggles his painted brows, ridiculous black-painted nostrils flaring. “Come on, pumpkin. One song. I promise not to breathe fire on you.”
I laugh nervously. “In this?” I gesture at my padded orange belly. “You like toasted pumpkin?” I feel like soup right now under his heated stare, my legs barely holding me with weak knees.
His eyes sweep over me, slow and unashamed, before locking back on mine. “I like pumpkin pie.”
My breath catches. “We can’t do this.” I scratch my neck, feeling all eyes on me, including my brother’s.
“Do what?” He leans a shoulder against the wall. “Why are you really sneaking out?”
“Because…” I swallow. Because you’re younger, hotter, and I know how this ends.
“…because I don’t belong here.”
“Funny,” he says, tilting his head. “You’re the only one in the room I can’t stop looking at.” He steps closer,reaches out a hand and swipes my hair from my face. “You belong here.”
I freeze, Gary the Ghost crumpling in my hand.
Drake smirks, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on me.
“You live here. If anyone is a fish out of water, it’s me.”
“A dragon out of the firehouse, you mean.” I huff out a half laugh. “Besides…” I lift my foot in the cast, holding my crutches. “I meant because I’m in my broken ankle era.”
He runs a hand over his face. “Shit, I forgot. I’m sorry.”
“No worries. But I have a glass of wine waiting, and a date with a book. Besides, where’s Sienna?”
“Grandparents took her back to theirs. I’m all yours tonight, pumpkin.”
Flint strides over to me, car keys in hand. “You ready to go?” He gives Drake a knowing look and a smirk, as if they’re exchanging a private joke.
“Hi, Emberrrr,” Seraphina slurs, swaying as she pushes through the door smelling like a cider farm. She hiccups, colliding with Flint’s chest. “Mister Sparkles. Chiefy Flintsy.” She pats his chest as if she’s testing a wall.
Flint grips her arms, scowling. “Sera, are you drunk?”
She hiccups again. “Nooo. Maybe. Half drunk. Quarter drunk. Math’s not my strong point.” A snorting giggle bursts out, and she covers her mouth like that’ll help. “Maybe I just need another drink.”
“Not on my watch. You’re not old enough to drink.” Flint sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Damn it, Sera. I’m taking you home.”
“But—” She wobbles on her toes. “I haven’t had the ch—” Hiccup. “Chili yet. After chili, Pops.” She plants anexaggerated kiss on his cheek, leaving him blinking down at her. “Then you can take me home. Promise.”
Flint’s jaw flexes as he steadies her, as if he’s being pulled in two directions at once. “Maybe some food will sober you up.” He looks over at me, then back to her.
I wave him off, hoisting my crutches. “Don’t worry, I’ll manage. I’m not the one hiccupping cider fumes.”
“You can’t walk, Em.” His tone is firm, but his eyes flick to Seraphina, who’s now trying to balance her tiara on his head.
“I’ll hobble. It’s only a few blocks.”
“Like hell you will,” Flint groans.
Before I can argue, a low British drawl slides in between us. “I’ll take her.”
