Page 7 of Hexed, Vexed, & Undersexed
“Nope.”
I flash him a grin, hoping that if I can get him to smile, then I’ll be graced with his dimples. It works.
Dimples are the cure all for thingsPutnam.
Note to self: add that to the grimoire when I get it back.
"Well, the network sure will be happy to know that the two of you won't need much coaching to go along with their plan."
"Plan?" I question, trying my best to keep my face smoothed out.
But based on his sexy, knowing smirk, I don't manage. It’s notmyfault that I'm being pitted against my arch-nemesis forhumanentertainment.
Like you'd be any better.
"There's a part each contestant will be playing to ensure maximum viewers. Those parts come with a story, a way to get viewers to fall in love—or hate—certain characters. Ramps up the stakes."
"Ha, pun," I say under my breath, struggling to keep my giggle under control.
"What?"
Preston's confused expression is almost as cute as his happy one.
"Stakes. Witches. . ."
I trail off, rolling my hands in the air in some odd way to convey how the two connect.
His warm laughter washes over me, and my ovaries once more perk up like a dog in heat.
Down, bitches, I try to command, but my inner witch reminds me that it wouldn't be so bad to enjoy Preston and his ovary-affecting abilities while I'm on the show.
Then, I would just be hexed and vexed.
"Yep, it’s official. I think you're perfect," he whispers.
A shiver tries to work its way down my spine at the husky tone in his words, but I force myself to smile. Can't very well climb him like a tree in the middle of a parking lot—not that I wouldn't love to or anything.
Did I mention it's been a while?
"Soooo, what's next? I mean now that you've turned me into a tree-hugging hippie."
"Hair, and then getting a tour of the studio."
He starts walking away toward his car while he lays out the next part of the plan, making me hustle to keep pace with him.
"I'm sorry, what's wrong with my hair?" I question.
At the thought of changing my hair, my hand migrates to the short, dark tresses that are fluttering in the breeze. Hell, my hair barely reachesmy chin, not sure what anyone can do with it at this point unless they have some magic of their own.
"Nothing, but I'm sure you’re picking up on how. . .particularthe network can be. Just a few colorful streaks—"
"Can they be purple?" I cut in.
Purple screamswitch bitch, and if the network is making me play the part of free-love-and-all-things-bellbottoms witch, they could at least give me this.
"Yeah I think we can do that. I mean, if you convince me," he murmurs with a wink.
Oh, baby, I could hex the socks off you with my convincing skills.
