Page 27 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

She was quiet a second. “That’s not a real wish.”

“You don’t know guys.”

“Do you believe in paranormal…things?”

“Like ghosts?”

“More like magical beings. Like fairy godmothers.” She was eyeing me in a way that suggested my answer was important, and that I should tread carefully. “Like maybe things exist that we can’t see? Ogres? Unicorns? Fairies?”

“My cousin went through a fairy phase. She loved them. She believed they’re real.”

She’d also been six. Char was a few decades beyond that.

She hunched deeper into her seat. “I always thought fairies were winged.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” What on earth had she seen in the past hour and a half and why were we talking about fairies?

She shifted to watch me, face creased with concentration. “Think if they were real, they’d be our size? And have no wings?”

“Dunno. Doesn’t really sound like a fairy.”

“Right?” She pushed back in her seat, head shaking. “People are crazy.”

I chuckled and allowed my imagination to roam. “I think, personally, if all that were real, I’d want to see fire-breathing dragons.”

She watched me from the corner of her eye. “What about a witch or an ogre?”

“Nah, I’d choose to see something awe-inspiring and beautiful.” As I pulled up at a red light, I met her gaze on the last word.

CHAPTER8

~ Char ~

We pulled up to Peter’s and parked, walking up to a window to order our shakes. Being a true drive-in, and this being the original location, there was no indoor seating, which I loved. We took our milkshakes and sat at a picnic table despite the evening’s chill, the ice cream drink making me shiver.

“Sorry your date didn’t work out,” I said again, the guilt gnawing at me over my ill-thought-out wish. Because even though that had merely been a timely coincidence, I still felt as if I’d made it happen, just like I had when my dad was fired all those years ago.

I wasn’t yet sure where I stood on the fairy godmother thing, but I did believe in manifestation, karma, kismet, and that our thoughts were powerful things. Despite that, I still couldn’t wrap my head around how Estelle had formed such an intensely private list. The more I thought about it, the more it felt like fairy godmothers had to be real—simply because of the knowledge she had of my innermost thoughts, wishes and dreams. Unless she was a psychic tuning into my personal frequency and pulling out wishes and their dates. Somehow, that didn’t quite sit right, either. Maybe it was the glitter that had rained down around us in the office just before I’d run out of there.

Because I was pretty sure a psychic couldn’t do that.

The same with the sudden chill that had entered the office. It had been freaky and out of this world. Literally out of this world.

I mean, Iwanteda fairy godmother to be real. But the problem was money. Wishes were supposed to be free.

“First dates are awkward,” James said, pulling my mind back to the here and now. He’d taken the spot across from me at the picnic table, his large, tall frame not quite the right fit for the attached bench and table.

“First dates are so bad I haven’t been on one in a year.” I gave him a playfully serious look over my straw.

“You lie.”

“You’re right. Eight months.”

“You lie.”

“Your tone suggests I’m a hottie who should be getting more dating action than I am, James.” I lifted a brow in his direction. Well, I tried. My brow muscles were hopelessly attached like Siamese twins, so when I tried to lift one as though I was mysterious, I probably just looked surprised or overly interested as both brows moved in unison.

He nodded thoughtfully, his kissable lips puckering in faux displeasure. “We both should be.”

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