Chapter 5
MANNY
That gods-damn sneaky witch.
I stare at Blossom across the fire, where she chats animatedly with Ame Shelly, pretending she doesn’t feel my eyes on her.
It’s been a few hours since the last challenge, but I’m still not over her trickery in the maze. She kissed the hell out of me, got me hard as a rock, then ran off to claim her victory while leaving me tied up.
I knew she could get competitive, but the duplicity is downright sexy.
Fuck, I want you so bad, Blossom Fernmore.
But the question is, how do I convince her my interest is real? What do I need to do to prove I’m not trying to pull one over on her?
Heather thought Blossom taking her place in this competition would give me a good chance to woo her sister.
Before she left on her honeymoon, she sat me down and spelled it out.
Blossom’s passion rose to the surface when she was chasing a win.
And Heather claimed, by some sisterly bond, she could tell that part of the reason I was so good at pissing Blossom off was because I mattered to her.
But it’s my job to turn that mattering into something good.
Something monumental.
Twice now, Blossom has kissed me on the lips. Both times with the aim of dealing me a blow.
And maybe I have an improperly flipped circuit in my brain because every time she ends a kiss with a menacing act, I only want her more.
“Attention, everyone.” Root steps up onto an overturned log, gaining the crowd’s notice.
There are at least ten fires spread out around this large forest clearing as we all congregate under the night sky, a half-moon shining down on our celebration.
“It’s time for our third and final challenge of the day. A task that will require finesse and an understanding of your fellow mythic.”
From the corner of my eye, I spy Blossom leaning forward, gaze rapt on her father, as if she thinks she can win simply by hearing him first.
“And like it or not, your fates will be decided by a single judge this next round. A special guest you both will try to impress. Everyone, please welcome our illustrious Mayor Nightson.”
The crowd claps and whoops in approval as Belinda Nightson steps forward.
Choosing a casual look for this gathering, our town mayor has her waist-length braids swinging loose and wears jeans and flannel, much like the scarecrows left for us in the maze.
But even in her dressed-down attire, she still has an air of authority.
The woman sits with a straight spine, a wide grin, and power rolling off her ebony skin.
I’ve heard, in her griffin form, she’s as large as a grizzly bear.
But when Belinda speaks, her voice is kind and welcoming. “Thank you so much for having me. I’m honored to take part in this Folk Haven tradition.”
“And we’re lucky to have you here.” Root turns his attention back to his daughter and me. “You two will have ten minutes to fashion the best, most delicious s’more you can create.”
He waves toward a table, where I spy the normal s’mores ingredients stacked. Graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows.
But there’s also so much more. There’re at least five different types of chocolate, a jar of peanut butter, multiple jellies, different candy bars, a container of caramel, a collection of fruits, and a variety of spices, like cinnamon, nutmeg, and cayenne pepper. There’s even a package of bacon.
Mmm, a bacon s’more? Sounds perfect to me.
“You’ll want to be inventive. Or maybe you want to go classic.
” Root wears a teasing smirk. “But what you need to do is make the perfect s’more for Mayor Nightson, who will sit with her back turned, unaware of who is making what.
And, Mayor, I expect you to judge based on your preference rather than mass appeal. ”
She offers a solemn nod. “Understood. I swear to be the pickiest of eaters.”
“Love to hear it!” The wood witch returns his attention to us. “Once again, you both have ten minutes to create the perfect campfire treat and present it to me. I will then deliver the finished products to Mayor Nightson.”
Interesting.
I glance over in time to see Blossom’s brow crinkle in concentration, her expression thoughtful, her eyes locked on the mayor, as if the griffin is a puzzle that simply needs to be solved.
“Your time starts now!”
Immediately, the gathered wolves and witches start calling out suggestions, but I ignore them as I lurch to my feet, eyes scanning the table of ingredients.
If I’m going to win or lose this, it’ll be on my own ideas.
I know I’d like to try a chocolate-coated bacon s’more, but would the mayor?
I grab the package of meat and a collection of other ingredients, deciding to experiment.
Ten minutes should give me just enough time for at least one practice round.
As I arrange food items with one hand and hold a skewer over the fire with a marshmallow, my eyes keep trying to watch Blossom instead of my food. The witch seems to be eating more than she’s cooking. But her face still holds that focused expression that tells me a lot is going on in her mind.
If only I could read her thoughts. But I don’t care about insight into her s’more plan.
I want to know if she thinks about me. If there’s a single positive pondering about the werewolf who’s secretly loved her for years.
“Three minutes!” Root calls out just as I’m hit with inspiration.
I don’t know if it’ll appeal to the mayor, but the combo can’t be denied once I have my mind set. I hurry to re-create my mental image. And just as my marshmallow turns the perfect level of gooey crispiness, Blossom snaps her fingers and lets out a whoop of triumph.
Then, she sprints into the trees.
I pause, shocked by her abrupt departure.
“One minute!” Root calls out, the man also appearing confused, his stare on the shadowy trees where his daughter disappeared.
But she returns a moment later, a wide grin on her face. The witch runs back to the fire in time to scoop up her marshmallows before they scorch.
Needing to finish off my presentation, I can’t watch Blossom’s final arrangement.
As Root counts down from ten, I situate my top graham cracker and hurry up to him, offering the plate with my dessert.
Blossom is a step behind me, and I catch a flash of melting chocolate and golden-brown marshmallow before her father whisks the plates to the waiting mayor.
“One!” Root shouts, and the assembly hollers their excitement.
“What was that about?” I whisper to her as she saunters back to her seat.
Blossom’s smile is pure cockiness, the expression tightening my groin.
“You’ll see.”
Root clears his throat, gaining the attention of the murmuring crowd. “If you would be so kind, Mayor Nightson, please describe the flavors for us all once you’ve taken a bite.”
“Of course.”
There’s a crunch of teeth breaking through graham cracker, and the whole crowd seems to hold their breath in anticipation.
“Oh, yum,” Belinda says after a moment. “This is delicious. There’s cinnamon, apple, and caramel in addition to the classic milk chocolate and marshmallow. A great fall s’more.” She takes another bite and swallows with a happy hum. “I could eat more than one of these.”
I sit up straighter in my seat, chest swelling with pride. I tried the bacon, and it was delicious. But then Blossom’s spiced apple scent teased my nose, and I couldn’t think of anything other than tasting her.
I made the s’more version of my wood witch.
“That’s going to be hard to beat,” the griffin claims. “But let’s see about this next one.”
Another crunch and chewing moment.
Then, Mayor Nightson laughs.
Witches and wolves exchange glances, and Blossom worries her lower lip between her teeth. I want to drag her into my arms, press a comforting kiss to that lip, and tell her it’s okay if she doesn’t win every challenge—
“I love it!” Belinda exclaims, cutting off my thought. “Dark chocolate and mint. My favorite combo. Is this a fresh mint leaf in here? Goddess, that’s divine. Sorry, competitor one, I have to go with option number two.”
Well, fuck me.
I guess we know why the witch ran off. She went to find some fresh herbs that must have been growing nearby.
Blossom jumps up from her seat, fist-pumping both her arms in the air with a whoop before turning her taunting grin my way.
“Two to one, sucker.” She leans toward me as she rubs the score in, eyes alight with her win.
Gods, she’s beautiful.
“How’d you know?” I try to keep my voice unaffected as I fight the urge to lunge forward and steal a kiss from those sassy lips.
“Peppermint patty latte. I was behind the mayor one time at Coffee & Claws when she ordered.” The witch taps her temple as she names Folk Haven’s local coffee shop. “It’s a steel trap in here. Don’t forget a thing.”
Don’t I know it? As I watch Blossom saunter away, off to chat with Belinda about her creation and accepting congratulations from fellow witches, I wonder if not forgetting means never forgiving as well.
Two to one.
I stare at the ground between my feet, watching shadows from the dancing bonfire flames flicker across the flattened grass. Time passes as I try not to panic. Try not to think about losing and Blossom leaving again.
This time, without the requirement of saying good-bye to me.
As if conjured by my thoughts, there’s a gentle press of lips against my cheek and the scent of spiced apples in my nose. The witch snuck up on me, and I turn my head so fast that my mouth brushes hers before she can fully retreat.
Blossom gasps in a breath, her pupils dilating when they meet mine, and we pause there, staring at each other until she whispers …
“Good-bye, darling. I’ll miss you.”
Then, she’s gone.
And I’m left wondering why those words didn’t sound like a threat.
They sounded like an invitation.