CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Skye
The next morning, instead of waking me with enthusiastic tummy kneading and purring, Princess Buttercup taps my cheek. The floofy hairs that stick out between her toes tickle, and I make a little moan of protest and burrow deeper under the covers.
Pat. Pat. Whap! There’s just enough hint of claws in that last hit to make it clear she means business.
“What?” I lower the covers to shoulder height, but refuse to open my eyes. Luke and I watched Step Up while we ate dinner last night, then played a few rounds of Just Dance with the Wii. After all of that and our practice at the pond, I’m worn out.
“Make it stop,” Princess Buttercup moans and points a paw toward the nightstand.
That’s when I hear it: the buzz of an incoming text notification.
Then another, and another. My phone stays on vibrate these days so it doesn’t make any loud noises while I’m in the library, but even vibrate gets annoying after a while.
I can sleep through just about anything, but my cat’s more sensitive.
I roll over and pick it up, and my screen comes to life: five voicemails and fifty-two text messages. Scratch that: fifty-three, another just came through. I set it to silent and flop back onto the bed.
The voicemails will be the aunts. Like most people their age, they’d rather call than text.
I get two messages from each of them back to back, asking vague questions.
The final message is the real one, with both of them on the phone together asking what they really want to know.
This is their thing: vague “warm-up” questions as they work their way to why they’re actually calling.
“Skye! Mrs. Greely says she caught you naked at the pond with a man!” Aunt Betty says.
“In this weather,” Aunt Irene adds. “You’ll catch your death!”
“That’s what you’re worried about? Her catching a cold? Didn’t you hear the part about her being naked with a man?”
“Now, Irene, you know how Mrs. Greely exaggerates everything. I imagine it was heavy petting at best. Maybe a little under-the-sweater action.”
There’s a smile in Aunt Irene’s voice as she says, “Whatever am I going to do with you?”
“I don’t know, but you could start with some under-the-sweater action.”
I rub my face and laugh as they completely forgot they were calling me and start to kiss.
One of the reasons I’m such a diehard romantic is because they’re still as into each other as they were when they first fell in love. I grew up surrounded by their love for me and their love for each other, and I’ve never wanted anything less for myself.
Another three texts came in while I listened to my voicemail.
I sigh. The little old lady gossip network moves with the times.
They might be older than the aunts—and unable to print a recipe from the internet without at least an hour of printer troubleshooting—but as soon as they discovered how useful it is for gossip, they fully embraced texting.
There is an endless stream of various townspeople asking if I’m okay or if I’ve been kidnapped.
Jared shares photos of Luke from various events, and those make the rounds.
He’s scowling in every single one of them, of course, but it only makes his cheekbones look even more amazing.
Rosie, the mailperson and the nicest member of the little old lady gossip network, goes so far as to ask if I wanted to be kidnapped.
I open the Witch Bitch chat. There was a flurry of texts around midnight, mostly everyone reporting that the gossip network had contacted them with the initial rumor of seeing me at the pond in Luke’s arms.
Around six this morning, a new batch started coming in.
Hannah sent, Skye, now you’re not just hugging Luke. You’re naked!
Yes, get it, girl! Jasmine replied.
Autumn added a series of fire emojis.
Kayla sobered things up by typing: 3 people just texted me that Skye’s been kidnapped.
Kidnapped! Violeta added a scream emoji.
This is getting good, Autumn replied. She sent a gif of Stephen Colbert eating popcorn.
Hannah said, Not good. Skye, you and Luke need to come into town and do damage control, STAT. A public breakfast should do it.
I groan and slap my hands over my face. That last text from an hour ago was Hannah in full mayor mode. And she’s right. I can’t be town librarian, trusted with small children, and be the damsel in distress kept locked in a tower in Luke’s castle… while naked.
Mmm, naked. I picture Luke in his library, leaning back against the ladder, a book in his hands… and he’s naked.
“Breakfast!” Princess Buttercup yowls in my ear, unwilling to be ignored.
Jolting upright, I half-roll, half-fall out of bed. “As you wish.”
I hurry to get ready, putting on one of my sweetest dresses, the bright pink one with a cute but demure blouse-cut top and a full A-line skirt.
I take extra time with my platinum hair, forming the structured looping curls of a 1950s hairdo.
I finish it off with pink lipstick to match.
No one but me needs to know that I’m wearing nice lingerie underneath, complete with a garter belt and thigh-high stockings.
When I open the bedroom door, Princess Buttercup dashes past me. “Finally! I thought I was never going to get breakfast.”
“Now you’re just being silly.” I tap my toe against the cat flap Luke installed in my door.
“You can go to the kitchen anytime and use your automatic feeder.” I’ve got it set to dispense food whenever she asks—all she has to do is put her head in front of the camera.
I wanted a failsafe in case Luke and I get stuck in the book for a while.
“That’s dry food.” Her tail gives a flick as she starts down the stairs. “You can give me wet food, chicken wet food.”
“You like your dry food.” I follow her down the stairs, my pretty little heels clicking on the stone steps.
“It’s fine if you’re not here, but if you’re here, I want those opposable thumbs to do something useful, like operate a can opener.”
“Still haven’t figured that one out, huh?”
“No.” She gives a disdainful sniff and strolls into the kitchen, head held high. “But I don’t need to. It’s why I adopted a human.”
I enter to find her circling Luke’s calves, purring up a storm. He looks down at her with a bemused expression. “I’m not your adopted human.”
“You have opposable thumbs.” My familiar trots over to the cabinet with the wet food and taps an imperious paw against the door. “You’ll do.”
He plucks a can from the cupboard, holding it gingerly between his taloned thumb and index finger. I show him how to open it and put it in her special wet food bowl.
She descends upon it the second I place it on the floor next to her water fountain, her ratcheting purr filling the entire kitchen as she eats.
“Can’t she eat out of the can?”
“No, I cannot.” Princess Buttercup looks up at him in horror. “I’m a cat, not a dog.”
Luke’s face settles into resting grumpy face number three, mild disdain, as the two enter a stare off.
A giggle escapes me—I can’t help it. These two trying to “out regal” each other is hilarious and adorable. It’s impossible to tell who would win the “haughtiest expression award.”
The allure of chicken wet food pulls Princess Buttercup’s attention back to her dish, breaking the deadlock. The twitch of her tail makes it clear this is not defeat.
I chuckle again when Luke’s tail gives a similar twitch. Then I hook a hand around his elbow and tug him toward the front of the castle. “Come on. It’s time for our breakfast.”
“We’re not eating here?”
“The entire town thinks you’ve kidnapped me and locked me in your castle. So no, we’re not eating here.”
He gives me a grumpy face four, a frown of medium irritation. “Whyever would they think such a thing?”
“Mrs. Greely.”
The frown deepens to a scowl number three, his how-dare-she expression.
“I told you there’d be consequences.”
As we fly toward town, Luke’s arms holding me tight, a little voice wonders if I might like to be kidnapped after all. The castle already feels like home, his library a marvel I’ve only seen the tiniest bit of—there’s so much left to explore!
And Luke…
I snuggle closer to him, breathing in his smoky sandalwood scent and enjoying the strong press of his body against mine. He’s surrounded us in a bubble of warm air, but his tail still wraps around my bare calves, and I love it.
I want to remain in Luke’s arms forever.