I led her and Shayna to the table where our celebratory Koda-loves-Shayna feast awaited. Taran quietly buttered the zucchini bread Emme had baked. The lack of sarcasm and noise revealed she wasn’t the only Wird sister feeling insecure. Luckily, I had just the ammo to blast her buns back to the planet Bitch-Assness.
I sat next to her and reached for a blueberry muffin. “Any word from Gemini?”
She stopped midbutter spread and clenched the knife in her hand. “No.”
“Really? He hasn’t called?” I took a bite of my muffin.
Taran slowly lowered her bread onto her plate while static shocks of blue and white snapped, crackled, sizzled, and popped above her head. “No. No calls. No texts. And in case you’re wondering, no Pony Express packages, either.”
I nodded. “Mmm. That’s so strange.”
Emme’s mouth popped open. My little sister was evidently shocked by my sudden and very suicidal verbiage. Provoking Taran was like ripping a rabbit out of a dingo’s mouth. Shayna shook her head, fast. When I grinned and winked, she waved her hands like she was landing a lunar jet in our family room.
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “So, any head pats lately?”
I just narrowly missed the bolt of lightning she flung my way. It split the wooden chair down the center and buckled the legs. I landed in a crouch on the table. Taran stood hard enough to tip her seat back, the length of her fingernails streaming with fire. She circled the table, her irises clear as glass from her rising power and the wide- awake, pissed-as-hell, premenstrual Latina within. “Just because you finally got laid doesn’t make it okay to make fun of the head pat. Gemini—”
“Thinks you’re a virgin,” I finished for her.
It was as if we were all in stereo and someone pulled the plug on the surround sound. Emme’s pleas to Taran not to barbecue me and Shayna’s panicked pulls to my arm ceased. Silence, followed more silence, until a nervous “Heh . . . heh-heh-heh” escaped Shayna’s lips.
I leapt off the table and met Taran face-to-face. Her scowl, in addition to her heavy breathing, just sent me into a fit of giggles. You’d have thought I made fun of her footwear. Taran jutted out her chin. “What. The hell. Did you. Just say?” I laughed harder. “Celia. In exactly three seconds I’m going to scorch the living shit out of you. Do you
This was harder than I had thought. I threw my hands in the air. “Taran, Gemini thinks you are, and I quote, ‘untouched.’”
“Untouched where?”
Emme clasped her hands over her mouth to suppress a gasp. Shayna didn’t. Her “heh-hehs” turned into full-out guffaws. She fell to the floor holding her sides, snorting uncontrollably.
Taran paced the room. Her four-inch sandals dug into the hard wood as she marched. “Why the
“Because you haven’t responded to his advances.”
Taran rounded on me. “What advances? Oh, I get it. Was it all those brotherly hugs? Oh no, let me guess, it was the head pats because we all damn well know that’s sexy.”
Emme smoothed the skirt of her floral dress. “Goodness, Taran,” she said meekly. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t tried to, you know, entice him.”
Taran turned her glare on Emme. “I’m not used to the shy types, Emme. I’ve only held back because I’m afraid I’ll scare him shitless.” By this point, my eyes watered. “Damn it, Celia, stop laughing. While you’ve been getting it on with Aric, I’ve been taking cold showers.” Bits of flame shot out of her hands like confetti. She gritted her teeth, stopping only to glower at me. “You have
“Aric says all the attention Gem’s shown you is a lot for someone as reserved as he is.” I grabbed her shoulders. “He likes you, Taran. Aric flat-out told me. It’s up to you to show him you like him, too.”
I could see the hope and excitement building as Taran withdrew her flame. Her wicked smile easily returned and so did that sultry gleam to her stare. “He likes me.”
“Yes.”
“And he
“Apparently so.” I didn’t mention Gemini’s sexual frustration. Taran had been tortured enough.
Taran’s full lips puckered with anticipation and her aura sizzled with enough heat to scorch my sweater. “I’m gonna knock that wolf right out of his pants.”
Taran crossed her arms and leaned back, curiosity about my sudden awkwardness making her angle an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Aric and I, um, have been having a lot of, ah, you know—we’re engaging in intimacy.”
Taran laughed. “Celia. I wouldn’t call all the gorilla sex you’ve been having with him ‘engaging in intimacy.’ Girl, you better get on the pill before he knocks you up.”
“I’m already on it. It, um, actually took full effect last night. But I, uh, took added precautions this morning just in case.” I cleared my throat for all the good it did me. “I was wondering if, uh, you’d go lingerie shopping with me today?”
A devious smile crept across her face. “Why don’t we all go? I need something to be devirginized in.”
After breakfast, Taran drove us to a South Tahoe boutique that specialized in designer lingerie. When the salesclerks greeted her by name, I knew we’d come to the right place. After a brief consultation with the staff, Taran had us custom-fitted for bras. Turned out, I was a 34-C, not a 36-B.
Taran wandered the aisles, picking out lingerie she determined would best fit our tastes. Her view of me, however, was sexier than I believed myself to be. I’d always worn feminine undergarments, but they were cute and cotton, not lacy, silky, and enticing. After all, before Aric, there’d been no one to seduce. After a rather revealing and embarrassing hour in the dressing room, I was prepared for my night.
When we returned home, Taran laid out the plans like the diva of seduction she believed herself to be. “Okay, everyone put on your choice of underwear for the evening with the shoes you’ll be wearing. Celia, I think you should wear the pink bra and panties with the black lace. Here.” She shoved a pair of strappy sandals high enough to make my nose bleed. “No mules, UGGs, or running shoes allowed.”
I gawked at the shoes and the lingerie she handed me. The thong alone could have fit in a lipstick case. It was one of the more risque items Taran had selected. I’d hoped to start off slow and ease my way into that little number. “But this one comes with a garter belt and thigh-high stockings.”
“No shit.” Taran glowered when I continued to gape. “Celia. You’re the one who begged for my help—”
“I didn’t beg—”
“Now run along and get dressed. Just make sure whatever outfit you wear for dinner hides the lingerie.” She hustled us out the door. “Hurry up, we’re running out of time.”
Emme and I arrived in Taran’s room wearing very casual but pretty print dresses. Shayna wore gray leggings under an off-the-shoulder white tunic. I was stunned to find Taran in nothing but red lace and four-inch heels. She threw her hands in the air like we’d committed a major slutty lingerie faux pas. “What the hell are you guys doing? I want you in only underwear and shoes. Take the rest of that shit off.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because we’re going to practice posing.”
“Huh?”
Taran tapped her heel and huffed like we’d exhausted the last of her patience. “You have to learn which pose works best to enhance your bodies in your lingerie.” My blank expression only pissed her off further. “It adds to the seduction process!”
Taran sighed when the rest of us exchanged what-the-hell glances. “Watch and learn.” She folded her arms and leaned over her dresser. Emme jumped when Taran threw out her butt like some sort of weapon. Taran continued, unaffected. She flipped her dark hair, pouted her lips, and propelled her cleavage forward like missiles
