My father drags a tired hand down his face. “And I suppose that means something bad?”
Mama shoots him a look. “Phillip, we’re trying to be supportive here.”
My father shrugs. He’s sitting in his favorite recliner in the living room with his feet up. I’d tracked both of them to this room after the wholeFreaky Fridaything happened with Devlin. I think they were looking for a break from the ball. Surprise! Things got bad.
Mom’s sitting on the love seat, her deep burgundy gown looking like a wave made of wine that surrounds her.
Dad stretches his arms behind his head. “I have the feeling you’re about to pull an Addison.”
“Of course she’s not going to pull an Addison.” Mama scoffs. “Boy, we don’t need that happening again. Remember last time? We thought Feylin was going to throw her in a dungeon and never let her out.”
Dad thinks about it. “That was on the worst side of what could happen. We knew he was smitten with her.”
“Yes, and see how that unfolded.” Mama smiles. “It worked out great. Now they’re married.”
My dad takes this as his cue to shoot me a funny look. “Are you and Devlin about to elope?”
I roll my eyes. “No, Dad. We’re not eloping. Will you just let me explain?”
“We’ve been sitting here,” he says.
I stop myself from reminding him about how they were both just waxing poetic about them good old days of Addison and Feylin’s relationship. “Devlin and I have switched powers, and he needs me to be near him so that he can?—”
Oh crap, I’m not supposed to tell anyone about his CIA clearance level of wizardry. Time to make something up, or at least hug the truth closely enough that no one notices that I’m notactuallyexplaining the situation.
“I need her for a project that I’m working on.”
Devlin’s voice takes me by surprise. He stands in the doorway, looking all rumpled and gorgeous. He’s plowed his fingers through his hair, and he’s tugged down his tie a bit. He kind of looks like he just climbed out of bed and threw on a tux like he couldn’t be bothered.
Well, he can bother me anytime.
Wait. Where did that come from?
Wherever that voice came from, it can retreat back down to the pits of hell where it belongs.
That’s a big fatnoto me and Devlin. No no no. I don’t want love. I don’t need love. All I need is to get married, and my perfect match is not Devlin Ross.
I will repeat—it is not Devlin Ross.
Dad perks up. “Devlin, good to see you; why don’t you sit down? Cigar?” he says, pulling a box from his pocket like cigars are Tic Tacs that he carries around to keep his breath fresh.
Before I can explain that no, Devlin does not need a cigar, and no, we don’t need to treat Devlin like royalty, he lifts a hand and shakes his head. “That’s very kind of you, Phillip, but it’s getting rather late.”
Dad is crestfallen. He lives with a bunch of women, and he probably feels like his testosterone is swept up into a dustpan and thrown out the back door just about every day. So whenever there are men around, he makes it a big point to bond with them.
I really need this thing with Storm to work out so that my dad doesn’t imprint on Devlin Ross. He can imprint his devotion onto Storm instead.
“But yes, I need Blair,” he says, sidling up to me.
I instantly stiffen at his proximity. Did I approve this closeness? Not technically, no, but as long as he doesn’t put his arm around me, we’ll be fine.
He drapes his arm around my shoulders. The move is so sudden that I jolt. Devlin flinches, too. For me it feels like a thousand fire ants are biting my flesh. He must be experiencing the same thing. See? Not meant to touch. Fire ants are proof.
“As I was saying, I need Blair’s help with a project. Her expertise with potions is going to come in handy.”
“But can’t you just hire someone?” Dad asks.
He’s trying to help, I know he is, but for once can’t my father just sit back, nod and say,Okay, kids, go have fun. Don’t burn down the house while you play chemist.
