past pretty into gorgeous. “What are all these for anyway?”
“My wedding.”
J.?J. jumped in surprise, squishing the candied leaf in her hand. Her gaze snapped to the left. “Jeepers, Tania. Sneak up on a body, why don’t you?”
“Ah, back to the good old days.” Brown eyes gleaming with mischief, her sister threw her arm around her shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze.
“Better be careful, Sis. You know I’ll get even and—”
“Ten times worse, no doubt.”
“Exactly. So watch your ass,” she said, enjoying the taunt and tease, ’cause… yeah. Tania was right. It did feel like old times. “And while you do… fill me in.” J.?J. raised a brow. “Wedding?”
“A double feature.”
J.?J. frowned, meeting her sister’s gaze while she racked her brain. Although, she hadn’t met him yet, she knew all about Mac. Tania couldn’t stop talking about him. Or rather… singing his praises. Every time she mentioned him, her brown eyes sparkled and J.?J. smiled. She couldn’t help it. She loved her sister. Wanted to see Tania happy and fulfilled. And after a lifetime of listening to her fantasize about Mr. Right? It pleased her beyond anything to see her sister’s dream come true as Mac stepped into the role.
She pursed her lips. But back to the original puzzle. A double feature meant…
Ah, yes. “Ange and Rikar too?”
“Mac and Ange are best friends, so it only makes sense to do it at the same time.”
“Thought you always wanted a lavish ceremony?”
“I don’t care about that anymore.” Tania gave her another squeeze, then let go to settle on the stool next to her. “All I want is him.”
“You love him that much?”
“More.”
“I’m so happy for you, Tania. Proud of you too. You found him… held out for the right one,” she whispered, emotion filling her heart so full the words came out raspy. Tears filled Tania’s eyes. Hers followed suit. J.?J. breathed through the emotional heave-ho, and fighting to stay even—breaking down in the presence of candy and frosting, after all, seemed counterintuitive—used the only weapon at her disposal. “Here. Have a cupcake.”
Wiping beneath her eyes, Tania huffed. “I’ve had two already. There won’t be any left for later if we eat them all now.”
“Screw it. We’re celebrating.” Picking the prettiest one off the plate, J.?J. handed it to her sister. “Daimler and I will just make some—”
“Speak for yourself, my lady.” Made a little teary-eyed by their exchange, Daimler tried to pull off a stern look. He ended up sniffling instead. “You eat all the wedding feast cupcakes, and you’re on your own. I’m not explaining their absence to my boys.”
Her sister rolled her eyes. “
Tania’s breath caught on the last word, stealing the rest of her sentence.
Perplexed, J.?J. stared at her sister, then flinched as a tingle ghosted over the nape her neck. Awareness expanded, morphing into a signal inside her head. Her focus snapped toward the hallway leading toward the front door. Wick. He was close… so very close she felt his proximity as sensation prickled. The heated curl clung a moment, then changed course, swirling down her spine in a—
“Oh!” Tania whacked her on the arm with the back of her hand. As J.?J. said “ow,” her sister hopped off the stool and made a beeline across the kitchen. A second before she disappeared into the corridor, she said over her shoulder, “Come on, baby J. They’re home.”
No doubt as to who “they” were.
Her first clue? Her sister’s excitement and speedy exit. The second indication? The clang of dishes from the dining room as Myst and Angela abandoned table-setting duty and, skirting the end of the massive table, made tracks in her sister’s wake. Watching the mass exodus, J.?J. slid off her perch but stayed put. No sense jumping the gun. Or making a fool of herself when she didn’t know where she stood…
Or if Wick wanted her to greet him.
The assumption seemed like a stretch. But then, everything did when it came to him. It was an odd state to be in… wanting to get to know him better without having any clue how to go about it.
Balancing on her good leg, J.?J. nibbled on the inside of her lip, debating what to do. Go or stay? Be safe or bold? She glanced toward Daimler, hoping for a bailout. An expectant expression on his elfish face, he raised a brow. Well, wasn’t that a kick in the pants? As helpful as the Numbai had been over the last few hours, he refused to give her any clues. Instead, he remained silent as stone, no doubt waiting to see which way she would hop.
J.?J. glared at him. Flipping elf. He looked as though he was enjoying—
“Ah, Master Wick,” Daimler murmured, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “Welcome home.”
A death grip on the edge of the countertop, her attention snapped toward the opposite end of the kitchen and… oh my. Lord have mercy. Wick in all his glory, looking better than the cupcakes she’d made, and twice as sweet. His golden gaze raked over her. Her heart went AWOL, dipping low only to rebound into her throat. He skimmed her again, making her feel as though she’d just been strip-searched. Stripped bare within a blink of an eye… all without him touching her.
Dear lord. She’d never experienced anything like it. Or him. He made her burn just looking at him, and in that moment, she understood primal attraction. Grasped the magnitude and rawness that pulled her into his orbit. Accepted the need. Reveled in the want. Felt the underlying tug as fate locked her into place.
Completely ridiculous? Nothing but hocus-pocus infused balderdash?
Maybe. Maybe not. All J.?J. knew was that she didn’t want to fight it. Exploring it sounded way more fun.
Drawing a deep breath, J.?J. opened her mouth to greet him and—
“I’ll be in my room.”
She blinked.
Daimler nodded. “Very good, Master Wick. I’ll see to your supper.”
And just like that, he was gone, heavy footfalls echoing as he turned and strode into yet another corridor.
J.?J.’s brows collided. A moment later, she scowled at the empty spot where he’d stood. “What the heck was that?”
“Go after him, my lady. But before you do, I would ask one thing of you.”
“What’s that?” Frustration riding shotgun, J.?J. limped around the end of the island.
“Be patient with him,” Daimler said, giving her pause. “He’s had a hard life, one I believe you will understand better than most. Better than any female, in fact, so… please, be patient, my lady. He needs you more than he knows.”
The entreaty settled her down.
She understood hardship. Had lived with the reality day in and day out… and now with the memory of it. She would never forget its effects. Or the chaos it left in the aftermath. So, no problem. She could be gentle— tough, patient—whatever Wick needed. Forbearance, after all, was her friend. But as she hobbled out of the kitchen and into the corridor, doubt came calling. What if he turned her away? Not an improbable outcome considering he’d just taken one look at her and run in the opposite direction.
Wick registered her presence long before she approached his bedroom. Standing in front of his easel, his gaze riveted to the door, he wiped his hands on a rag that had seen better days. Stained with old paint, frayed around the edges, the cotton served as his catchall. Something he used while painting during the day. Tossing the scrap of cloth on the table beside him, he plucked his favorite brush from a large mason jar. Wood rattled against the glass rim. The familiar sound did nothing to break his fixation. His senses were too attuned… on fire for a female he craved, but knew he didn’t deserve.
He should turn her away. Be safe. Act sensibly. Do the right thing and leave her locked on the other side of his door. As far away from him as possible.
