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Zac shakes his head. “Mom, I don’t think—”
“What an excellent idea!” Grandmother almost shouts. “Zac can show you around Europe! Your ownpersonaltour guide. He’s an expert on the Alps, too, you know.”
“I am?” Zac asks, bewildered. “Since when?”
This time, the double-pronged glare is aimed at him. “You know more than anyone else here,” his mother points out. “You’re the ideal person to escort Cam around the area, show him the sights. Keep him company.”
It hits me like a freight train what they’re doing, and my mouth drops open.
“Finally!” Garrett shouts, and all eyes turn to him. He flushes red. “Uh… I beg your pardon. I-I… That is… There was food stuck in my teeth, and I was trying to get it out. Finally!”
Awkward silence. He sinks lower in his chair while Asher puts an arm around his shoulders.
“Where do you think you’d like to visit first, Cam?” Grandmother asks, diverting everyone’s attention, and Garrett takes advantage of the opportunity to make bug eyes at me. Now I understand what he’s been trying to signal—badly—this whole time.
My grandmother and aunt are trying to set Cam up with Zac.
This is a nightmare.
It’s no secret to anybody that Grandmother wants us all married and preferably bringing new children into the family as soon as possible. She’s determined to see the next generation before she dies, and though it wouldn’t surprise anyone if she lived for eternity out of sheer stubbornness, realistically she only has a few hundred years left, max. Given the low fertility rates in the community of species, she’s not exaggerating when she says she’ll miss out if we don’t get a move on.
But the matchmaking has to stop. Last year, she was (thankfully) focused on Asher. It drove him so nuts that he invented a fake boyfriend to distract her with. Okay, maybe I helped a little with that idea. But it definitely wasn’t me who decided a marriage of convenience was the best way to get Grandmother off his back—that was all him. Luckily it worked out for the best, and he and Garrett are now sickeningly in love, but it could have gone very wrong. He was willing to take the risk to avoid Grandmother’s machinations.
I should have known it was too good to be true when she didn’t immediately turn her attention to me. I should have beenpreparedfor some kind of fiasco. But no, I was so complacently relieved that she wasn’t nagging me like she did Asher, and nowthishas happened. She’s trying to set Zac up with my…
My…
Fuck.
I can’t very well protest this on the grounds that Cam and I have been no-strings fucking for nearly a week. Definitely not in front of my whole family, including the two kids. So what do I do? Sit here while Grandmother and Aunt Dalia matchmake my… person I’m involved with and my cousin?
Sitting up straighter, I stare fixedly at Zac, willing him to look at me. He and Cam are the only ones who can head this off right now, and I wouldn’t want to put Cam in the position of having to say “no” to Grandmother. That’s not fair.
Zac, on the other hand, can stand up to her for once. If he’d stop listening attentively to what Cam’s saying andlook at me. Why’s he listening so hard anyway? There’s not going to be a test. Is he trying to impress Cam with how much attention he’s paying to him?
Is killing a cousin truly a crime? Yes, I know, murder is bad. But murdering your cousin who tried to poach your… person you’re fucking, that’s not as bad as murdering someone who didn’t deserve it, right?
I’m still mentally debating that when Zac finally looks at me. He blinks—maybe my face is a little intense right now—and his expression turns questioning. I slide my eyes to Cam, then shake my head.
Zac just looks confused.
So I repeat it.
That doesn’t seem to help.
I’m in the middle of the third attempt when Chloe asks, “Micah, are you okay?”
I freeze, then force a smile. “Yes. I’m fine.”
She tilts her head. “Are you sure? Why are you making faces?”
“Yeah, Micah? Why are you making faces?” Asher echoes, the asshole. He knows exactly why.
“I’m not making faces,” I lie. “I have an itchy nose.”
“You can scratch it, you know,” Chloe points out.
“Just don’t stick your finger up it,” Isaac adds. “That’s not allowed.” He frowns. “But nobody will tell me why. They just say it’s not polite.”
