Page 46 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
“I don’t care what videos you saw of Ivy. That doesn’t make her yours, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean she owes you anything.” His voice was measured, each word sure and controlled, like his magic. “You’re going to delete her number. You’re never going to contact her again.”
Nia’s breath hitched. She’d seen Lochlan use magic before, but never like this. The shadows and vines obeyed him with seemingly effortless precision, subtle enough to stay hidden but potent enough to make her pulse race.
Goddess, it was hot.
Daniel gazed at Lochlan, his confusion replaced with uneasy fear.
Lochlan looked at the rash, then met his eyes. “You should go home, Daniel. Before that spreads any further.”
Daniel glanced down to the angry red welts creeping along his arms. With a strangled noise, he scrambled away and pushed through the door at the end of the hall without a backward glance.
Lochlan turned to leave, mild annoyance written across his face, but when his eyes landed on Nia his expression shifted—relief, first, then something more guarded.
“You took care of things,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“Of course.” He sounded wary but matter-of-fact.
Nia’s jumbled thoughts suddenly clicked into place. Lochlan showing up to the date. Checking his phone at the table. Becket’s sudden arrival. Lochlan quietly taking care of the checks. Becket taking Ivy to the festival. Lochlan taking care of the ass hat.
Taking care of her.
Oh no.
No, no, no.
There was a mess of warm feelings rolling around her rib cage, sticky and unavoidable. And worse—a mess of heat creeping across her skin, pooling low in her belly. She was getting all worked up over being cared for.
Oh, goddess help her.
Lochlan’s voice pulled her from her spiral. “Ready for the autumn festival?” His eyes held hers. “There’s a chance we can still turn tonight around for Ivy.”
Nia swallowed hard. Her pulse skipped as she nodded quickly and managed, a little breathlessly: “Yeah. Okay.”
Lochlan’s lips quirked in a faint smile, and she prayed he couldn’t see the war going on inside her. He held out a hand. After a heartbeat of consideration, she slipped her fingers into his, and they walked into the cool night together.
CHAPTER 16
Lochlan
“WHO IS IN CHARGE OF THE FAIRIES? THEY ARE GETTING OUT OF CONTROL!” —PRINCES&PIES444
The town center looked like it had tumbled straight out of a postcard. Strands of fairy lights crisscrossed the streets, while lamp posts were wrapped in wheat stalks and autumn garlands. Booths selling handmade crafts and steaming drinks dotted the sidewalks, and a Ferris wheel creaked merrily in the background. Pumpkins and gourds filled every available nook, and the air was thick with the scents of caramel and apple cider. Even the park had been transformed into a golden maze of corn stalks, where breathless couples emerged, cheeks flushed and grins triumphant.
Lochlan smiled, thinking of the wonderful turn their terrible evening had taken. They’d survived the dreadful double date, his best friend was here cracking jokes with Ivy—who no longer looked pale and miserable—and Nia was tucked under his arm.
This moment felt like a spell strong enough to overpower the unraveling of their marriage.
“Where to first? Food?” Becket asked, already scanning the booths like a man on a mission. “Oh, wait, you just came from dinner.”
“I don’t think any of us actually ate,” Lochlan said dryly, earning a soft snort from Ivy.
“How about rides?” she suggested, bouncing on her toes, clearly eager to leave the double date disaster far behind.
“The Chaos Cyclone?” Becket offered with a mischievous glint in his eye.
Lochlan groaned, his stomach lurching at the very thought. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I hate rides that spin.”
Ignoring his protest, the group headed toward the twirling monstrosity. The ride towered above them, all screeching bolts and whining metal, the structure swaying precariously with every gust of wind. Just watching it was enough to make Lochlan queasy. The line wasn’t long—not nearly long enough for him to summon the nerve to get in one of those rickety, swaying carts. Lochlan scanned the ride’s dizzying motion, searching in vain for an escape route.
