Page 62 of Wicked & Wildflower

I let out a low laugh. “Do you need help with that cream pie, Wildflower?”

Big blue eyes snap to me, growing brighter in complement with the blush raging up her neck and across her cheeks.

I hear the clattering of some kind of utensil, followed by an annoyed groan. “No. No, no.” Dahlia stands up straight, and I reluctantly pull away from her. My mother drops the celery she was cutting, and I notice my dad standing over the kitchen sink, face beet red as he holds back laughter. “Whatever you two do behind closed doors is none of my business, but I’m not going to spend myfamilyholiday listening to you makecream piereferences and take seductive glances at each other.” She points to the living room. “Out, Everett.”

“Oh my God, Mother.” I run a hand down my face. “It was a joke.”

“Right. Just like I’m sure it was a joke that Colin’s grandmother called me after that date I set Dahlia up on and told me that she left him high and dry at the bar, running off with some,” she holds her hands out to make air quotes, “‘big, tattooed, motorcycle club member.’” She puffs. “I asked her what bar he took you to, and oddly enough, it happened to be Emilio’s. The bar owned by one of my son’s friends.” She flicks her wrist, referencing me. “My big, tattooed, motorcycle-riding child.”

I roll my eyes. “Why do I feel like that’s not a compliment?”

“I swear, I didn’t know who he was when it happened,” Dahlia says, eyes wide. “And to be fair, Colin was a fucking dud, Monica. You know it too.”

Mom’s brown eyes soften. “I’m not upset that you’re hooking up with Everett,carina. Lord knows that boy could do worse.” I scrunch my nose at her, even though she’s not wrong. Nothing’s better than Dahlia, and we both know it. “I just have two rules: I don’t want to see it and I don’t want to hear it. Same goes for them.” She points her knife in the direction of the living room, where I know my brother and Dahlia’s sister sit.

“Please don’t say ‘hooking up’ ever again,” I mutter.

“Please don’t say ‘cream pie’ ever again,” my mom snaps back.

Dahlia’s face falls into her hands.

“Deal.”

“Deal,” she replies. “Now, get out of my kitchen. Go get Lou.”

Dahlia laughs beneath her hands, and I snap my arm out to pull her fingers from her face, wanting to see her smile. “What are you laughing at?”

“It’s enjoyable to see you get put in your place.”

“Okay, I’m being bullied. I’m leaving.” Both women are chuckling at me now, and some force outside my control has me tugging on Dahlia’s hand, bringing her into me and planting a kiss against her neck.

Her laughter stops, and the room goes quiet. I hadn’t realized I’d done it. It was something that felt all too natural to me. Making her smile. Hypnotized by her laugh. Putting my lips on her skin and showing her affection. It’s too easy, like something I’m justsupposedto do.

I clear my throat. “I’ll grab Lou for you,” I say gruffly, darting out of the kitchen before the awkward silence can settle in.

“And keep an eye out for August!” my mother chimes. “Should be here any time.”

I pause at the threshold of the kitchen doorway, eyes locking on my brother from across the room. Surprise is plastered on both our faces. “How the fuck did she pull that off?” I ask.

“I don’t think she did.” Leo nods at Darby, whose head rests against his shoulder with a knowing smile on her face. “Something tells me it was all Honeysuckle’s doing.”

I plop down on the couch next to her, taking Lou’s spot as she hops up and heads into the kitchen. A moment later, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

That was so embarrassing.

I smile at Dahlia’s message, typing out a reply.

I notice you didn’t correct her when she said we were ‘hooking up’.

Well, we are ‘dating.’

I never realized how much I fucking hate quotation marks until this moment.

Might as well live up to the assumptions, no?

I hear her giggle from the kitchen.

You’re insatiable.

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