Page 79 of Mother Pucker

Kai wraps his arms around Rowan in a quick hug, and though I’m only a silent observer from afar, my heart feels inexplicablyconnected to their moment, their bond. As if my heart feels too big, I press my fingers against my chest, trying to ease the emotion.

A moment later, Rowan shakes hands with Cortney and Beckett, while Kai rushes over to the picnic table with the other kids dressed in their costumes.

Earlier today, when Beckett announced he was going to grill burgers, he told me he’d bought organic turkey burgers for me and Kai, but when I saw the wistful look on my son’s face when he saw the burgers everyone else would have, I told him he could have anything he wanted today; no rules.

“Even all the candy?” He was a kid after all, and they were born with doe-eyes to manipulate parents into accepting their outrageous ideas.

I’d sighed but refrained from saying what I did every Halloween, which was a firm no. Instead, I told him he could have any five candies he wanted today and five more throughout the week. And though I wanted to take back my promise, I knew I’d done the right thing when I received the biggest hug I’d gotten all week from him.

I scan the patio once more from the confines and privacy of my office before straightening my pointy witch hat.

All four of us–Dylan, Delia, Liv, and I–are dressed in similar witch costumes, with the same green makeup and witch’s nose on our face. We’d decided to stay indoors and greet the trick-or-treaters for our first Halloween in the house, while the guys took the kids out after our so-calledtraditionalHalloween barbecue.

Beckett and Cortney are grilling burgers and veggies in the corner, while a green-faced Dylan is mixing something inside a large cauldron.

Dylan spoons an orange liquid into cups and hands them to Liv and Delia, who are sitting on chairs on the lawn with blankets over their laps. She looks so freaking adorable eachday she gets rounder around her tummy. Recently, she even felt the baby’s first flutters and said she can just tell based on the movement that this baby is going to walk early.

I slowly make my way out the door, catching Rowan’s gaze first.

His golden-green eyes roam over me, starting at my pointed black shoes and snagging at my cleavage visible under the low V-neck of my black gown, before settling on my eyes. I may or may not have chosen the lowest V-neck possible and wore a push-up bra, but no one can prove it, and regardless, I’ll continue to deny it.

Rowan pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth before leaning back on his heels. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jeans, and his deliciously tattooed forearms are on full display under rolled-up sleeves.

“Hi,” I manage out awkwardly, hoping the green paint on my face doesn’t smudge with the drool threatening to slip out the corner of my mouth as my eyes feast on him hungrily.

His smile turns impish, telling me he very much read my thoughts. “You might not know this, Doc,” he murmurs so only I can hear, “but I have a hell of a witch fetish. Especially for witches with short hair, plump lips, and stars tattooed behind their ears.”

My lips twitch. “A witch fetish, huh?”

“A fixation, rather.”

“I’m sure there will be witches out tonight who meet those qualifications.”

He holds my gaze. “There’s only one for me.”

A warmth crawls up my chest. “Rowan–”

“Alright guys, here are your costumes,” Delia announces, taking something out of a box and cutting off my words.

“Costumes?” Cortney asks skeptically. “I thought we were just taking the kids trick-or-treating. No one told me we were dressing up.”

“Well, you are,” Delia reiterates, making it clear there is no room for arguments. She flings a lime-green jumpsuit in his direction, along with a purple nightcap.

Cortney catches it, looking at it with the same distrust as one would a ticking bomb. “The fu–” he catches himself, seeing that the twins have both raised their heads from their spot at the picnic table and are looking in his direction hopefully. “I mean, what theheckis this?”

“And you.” Cordelia turns toward Rowan, giving him the same once over she’d give someone who was just released from federal prison. She throws a brown shirt with yellow sleeves and a golden cap in his direction. “You can keep your jeans on, but change your shirt to this, hockey boy.”

Rowan catches the shirt in his grasp before mumbling, “Hockey boy?She really doesn’t like me, does she?”

My soft giggle gets swept off in the wind. “Nah, I’d say that was Delia beingfriendly.”

“Ah,” he says with a nod. “So, that’s Delia. We never properly got introduced when I came over last time, what with the humidifieraromatherapyincident.”

Dylan brings over cups of the orange liquid for both me and Rowan. “Welcome back, Rowan. It’s good to see you!” She hands me a cup, extending her green-painted hand. “That’s a ‘poison’ apple sangria. Obviously, I’m not drinking, but Liv and Delia said it was pretty good, so try it and tell me what you think.”

I take a sip, letting the tart apple cider and cinnamon sit on my tongue for a moment. “It’s delicious.”

She nods with satisfaction. “You’ve got quite the pink glow around you today.”

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