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“He still hasn’t fixed the gate,” she mumbles next to me, looking at who I assume is her father. He stands at the front gate with a small scattering of tools at his feet.

“Are you ready?” I ask, quickly checking my mirrors. We had paparazzi at the front of my building earlier. They followed us for a while, but they obviously got their shot, as I saw them peel off a while ago. I’m somewhat used to them. But I don’t like them always making up stories about people and issues they know nothing about. Clickbait these days is out of control. I also don’t want to subject Daisy or her family to that. Especially before I’ve even formally met them. I need to make a good impression. And with that thought, I jump out and run around to her side door.

“Oh,” she says, surprised.

“You think I left my manners back in Whispers?” I ask her, seeing her father look up at us.

“Well, I guess not.” She laughs lightly, and I help her from the car, grabbing her hand and walking by her side toward her father.

“Hey, Dad.” As she steps up to him, I let go of her briefly, the two of them hugging.

“Hey, Sparkie,” I hear her dad say, and my lips twitch.

“Sparkie?” I ask, smiling, and Daisy rolls her eyes at me.

“She has always been a bit of a firecracker, a bright spark. It’s the red hair. I think it brings out a little fire in her personality. It’s stuck since she was a child,” he says, and I stretch out my hand.

“Connor Whiteman,” I say, introducing myself. I feel my heart thud. I’ve never done this before. Met the parents. While I meet new people all the time, I’ve never felt this nervous before.

“Good to meet you,” he says, his handshake firm. As Daisy starts asking him about the gate, I look at him and the house, taking it all in. It’s a standard suburban street, the house a white single-story, well kept but old. Their garden is neat. Nothing like Whispers, but pretty enough.

Her father looks exactly how you imagine an accountant to look. Thinning hair, glasses, white collar on with slacks, even though it’s a Sunday. He’s taller than Daisy, but not by much. I tower over both of them, my frame bigger than most. There are no signs of meditation, herbal remedies, or fucking crystals in sight.

“You’ve been fixing this for weeks,” Daisy says as I look back at the gate.

“I need something to stop the neighbors' kids' balls coming in and ruining my daisy bushes. That one I planted with you was thriving until the soccer ball from next door hit it.”

“Daisies?” I ask.

“I have my garden full of them. After our Daisy here,” he says, and Daisy smiles adoringly. I look around the small garden, and sure enough, there are daisy bushes everywhere, most in bloom, looking full and lush.

“We make tea with them. They have just as much vitamin C as a lemon. Good for coughs and colds,” Daisy tells me. I swear this woman could live off-grid for years if she needed to.

“You’re here!”

I look up, seeing Rainbow, Daisy’s mother, step out the front door, and the smile on Daisy’s face is instant as she hurries over to her. It’s heartwarming to see.

“Oh, you brought the hunk of s—”

Daisy’s quick to interrupt. “Mom! You remember Connor?”

I step forward to greet her. I’ve met Rainbow already at Sunshine. Hell, she saw me checking Daisy out the minute we met. I rub my eyes at the thought, embarrassed. Yet not at all remorseful. Daisy has a great ass, and I still look at it every chance I get.

“Good to see you again.” I offer my hand, and she tuts.

“None of that formal stuff. We believe in the healing nature of touch in our home… Come here.” Grabbing me by the upper arms, she pulls me down and gives me a small hug. She’s just how I remember. Thin, long black hair with streaks of purple and gray. Her natural appearance has a little more warmth than what I remember. The visions of her as a witch are less so today, even though she’s still dressed similarly, her dress flowing.

“Shall I brew you some tea?” she asks me, and I glance at Daisy.

“Some of that tea you made me at Sunshine would be amazing, if you have it?” I ask innocently. Daisy’s eyes widen, and I try hard to tame my smirk. It tasted like shit, but I will throw it back. Not that I need an aphrodisiac, as just looking at Daisy gets me going.

Daisy’s mom’s eyes alight, oblivious to my filthy thoughts about her daughter, and her grin is instant.

“Oh, I knew you liked it. I will get a pot going.”

I’m happy that I have her mother’s approval already. Now I just need to work on her dad.

“Are you still going with that gate?” she asks her husband, and I look at it again and take in the tools he has out. It’s clear that he doesn’t work with his hands very often.