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“Blaire! There you are,” a voice calls from the rear entrance to barn.
I turn to see her sister in an off-white sweater dress, her loose hair gleaming in the light from the lanterns behind her, and dread rockets through my system. A quick glance back at the bonfire, where the pixies are now swooping lazily through the smoke rising from the kindling—probably the reason they’re here to begin with; pixies love a good fire—eases my concern, but they won’t be distracted for long.
As soon as a breeze sends Annie’s smell their way, they’ll be all over her. Her scent isn’t as intense as her sister’s, but it will absolutely be more than a swarm of pixies can resist, even if they were the sort of creatures who made a habit of resisting things.
I’m about to zoom across the lawn and mark Annie myself—hoping Annie and Colin will forgive the familiarity in the name of keeping her in once piece—when Colin appears behind her. He murmurs something in her ear I can’t make out, Annie stiffens and glances toward the pixies, then shifts her attention back to my brother with a tight smile. After sweeping her hair to one side, she tilts her head awkwardly toward her shoulder, and Colin, my confident, controlled, never-met-a-woman-he-couldn’t-charm-if-he-really-wanted-to brother presses a few equally awkward kisses to her throat.
“Oh God,” Blaire mutters. “Fine, yes, I’ll dig out my push up bra and buy a tacky dress cut down to my navel. Whatever it takes to prove I’m your type. We have to save those two from each other before they spend the rest of their lives burying their real feelings and having painfully awkward sex.”
“Or worse, no sex at all,” I agree.
She hums softly. “Do you think that’s worse? I went eight months without a partner once. It wasn’t that bad. I got a lot of work done at least.”
“Imagine eight years,” I say, shuddering at the thought just as she shudders beside me.
We exchange a glance and a smile as Annie calls out, “Have you been marked safe from the pixies, Blaire?”
“Yeah, I’m good, Darcy helped me out,” she says, smiling as she lifts an arm her sister’s way. “Two minutes and we’ll be right in.”
“All right,” Annie says, “but hurry. Our table is nearly full.”
“Got it. Be there in just a sec.” She turns her back to Annie as she adds in a whisper, “So boobs hanging out, tight clothes. What else should I include in my Darcy-flavored makeover? We need to get on this. We only have eight days left to put a stop to this madness.”
“Agree, but there’s no need to dress in a Janet costume. I enjoy women who take pride in their appearance and dress to accentuate their natural beauty. Janet has her way of dressing to impress and I’m sure you’ll…discover yours.”
“Okay,” she says with a dubious expression.
“Find someone to trim your ragged cuticles and attend to your unibrow,” I say flatly. “That would be an excellent start.”
“I don’t have a unibrow!” she huffs, propping her hands on her hips.
“You have a unibrow,” I say, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s subtle, but it’s there.” With a final pat on the back, I circle around her, starting toward the barn. “See you inside. Try to chew with your mouth closed tonight. Colin knows I loathe a lady who smacks.”
“You’re making me hate you again,” she mumbles behind me.
I glance over my shoulder with a wink and think, Don’t shoot the messenger, little goblin.
She mutters a few soft threats to my person and something insulting about the length of my nose hairs that makes me feel better than I have all night.
Yes, our chemistry is a powerful force, but our natural antipathy for one another is even stronger. This won’t get awkward or fraught in any way. We’ll form our unlikely partnership and then part ways as amicable enemies.
Or perhaps casual friends.
As crass and unkempt as she can be at times, Blair isn’t all bad. I admire her clever mind and her devotion to her family, and on days when Punky’s in a mood and refusing to come out from under the bed, it would be nice to have a witch who speaks cat among my acquaintances.
Yes, I assure myself, this will be fine. Absolutely fine.
Or an unmitigated disaster.
One or the other is all but assured.
Chapter Eight
Blaire
Friday, October 24th
Despite being at the harvest bonfire until midnight—a good time, I admit, despite the rough start—I’m up and out of the house by nine. I overheard Sally telling someone yesterday that she still had appointment slots available this morning.
