Page 47 of Wicked & Wildflower

Darby’s hazel eyes bulge.

“Who’s Amaya?” I ask now, noticing the way my sister blushes.

“Amaya was Leo’s first girlfriend,” Everett continues, ignoring the glare from his brother. “She broke up with him because he wouldn’t let her…deflower him. But even after they broke up, she still hung around, hoping he’d change his mind.” He chuckles. “Until this one,” nodding to my sister, “went ahead and announced to Amaya—in front of a house full of people—that while Leo was hellbent on protecting his virtue from her, Darby had gone ahead and laid claim to it after…what? Five minutes of knowing each other?”

Both of our siblings scowl at him.

I’m just shocked. “You shouted that you let Leo take your virginity in front of a house-party full of people?”

“No,” Darby growls.

“She was drunk,” Leo continues. “And she didn’t tell everyone we had sex. She just implied that I prefer morning sex to evening sex.” He smirks. “Which isn’t a lie. She’s very perceptive.”

Darby avoids eye contact with me, blushing as she focuses on the field in front of us, suddenly real interested in a bunch of nine-year-olds kicking a soccer ball. Leo, sitting a row above her on the bleachers, pulls her back against him and plants a kiss in her hair.

I laugh, shaking my head at them. “Why would your ex-girlfriend's sister from five-hundred years ago care about me, though?”

“If someone hated your sister, even for an irrational reason, wouldn’t you hate them too?” Everett asks.

“Of course,” I say. “But I didn’t deflower Leo Graham or whatever the fuck that girl is upset about.”

“Amaya was queen bee, and Darby’s the only person who ever stung her. She was embarrassed and hurt, I’m sure.” Darby looks up at him with regret in her features as he brushes a thumb against her cheek. “You didn’t do anything wrong, baby. She wasn’t kind to you, and that was likely the first time in your entire life you ever stood up for yourself. Regardless, it probably stuck with her. She held a grudge.” He shrugs. “Her sister is projecting those feelings onto Dahlia now. Just ignore them; they’ll get bored eventually.”

We’re quiet for a moment as I think through what he’d said.

“Let’s also not forget that you’re probably getting death glares because the cougars love Everett, and I think some of the single ones secretly hoped they’d be the person to finally tie him down.” Leo smiles.

Everett scoffs at that.

“Why cougars specifically?” I snort.

Leo shrugs. “He’s kind of known to go after older women. And men, actually.”

“Dude.”

I laugh. “Well, shoot, maybe this,” I wave my finger between us, “isn’t as believable as we hoped it’d be.”

I duck out from under his arm, but his strong hand grips around my waist and tugs me back to him. My skin lights on fire where his fingers splay across my midsection, searing me even through my t-shirt. Chills race down my spine at the feel of his hard body against my back, his breath against my ear.

Our arrangement doesn’t require a ton of PDA. We go out to lunch a few times a week. Everett always holds my hand or places it at the small of my back. He hovers against me closely ortucks my hair behind my ear if someone he knows is watching. Sometimes, he’ll brush his lips against my temple, but I know those moments aren’t for show. Those are just for him.

Just like now, as he pulls me back beneath his arms and wraps both around my shoulders. He leans down and lets his lips tickle my cheek as he whispers, “You’re older than me, so I think it works out great.”

I crane my neck to the side as his breath trickles down my body. He takes the opportunity to tightly press his mouth against my throat, and I know he can feel my hammering pulse there. When his hands—his lips and his body—are against me, it’s like the rest of the world fades out. I can tell myself he’s doing this because of the parents standing nearby, but in reality, I savor this moment because I love the way he feels. He touches me like he’s cherishing me, and God knows I’m fucking starved for it.

So I let his lips drag along my skin, just briefly. I bite back the moan I want to let out.

“By what? A year and a half?” I chide, though it comes out breathless.

“I don’t discriminate, baby,” he murmurs against my jaw before pulling away. “Plus,” he says louder, clearing his throat, as if just realizing we’re in public. A children’s soccer game, no less. “I don’t have a type. Well,” he pauses, and it’s almost like I can feel the smile I can’t see as I stand in front of him, “at least not until I met you.”

My sister’s eyes widen. She watches me curiously, and I can’t meet her gaze as I drop my head to hide my blush. A strange weight settles over all of us, like Everett may have just said something a little too real. Thankfully, before anyone can address it, a whistle blows from out on the field, and my daughter’s soccer game begins.

We all watch from the bleachers as a bunch of little kids run around in circles on the field, chasing the ball. I don’t know shit about soccer, but my eyes are only glued to my daughter anyway. She looks confused, and she trips over her own feet no less than three times, but she’s laughing, and that’s all that matters.

“Oh, by the way, Lou asked me if I would recruit the three of you to accompany us on Halloween.” I sigh. “I think she’s afraid of the other kids at school not inviting her, and she doesn’t want to feel left out. Of course, I, as her mother, am not enough. She needs a whole crew to join her.”

My sister giggles. “What does she want to go as?”

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