Page 8 of Head Witch in Charge (The Sherwood Witches #2)

Erik…

I haven’t been this nervous in, well, basically ever.

But here I am, fucking pacing in front of the resort’s huge fountain with a picnic basket of cheeseburgers, fries, two malted elderberry shakes, and a cherry bark pie, staring at the sliding glass doors, hoping that every time they open, LeLe will walk out.

What. The. Fuck.

I never second-guess myself. If I did, my dad would pounce on that weakness and exploit it for his own gain. As a Svensen, you learn that lesson young and you never, ever forget it.

I’m about to chuck the damn basket into the fountain when the resort’s doors open up and LeLe walks out in a sundress that should be illegal. It’s not that it’s all that low-cut or tight, but it’s because I know exactly what’s underneath the pink fabric that sways with each step.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says, stopping in front of me and holding out a small jar. “I stopped for some strawberry jam.”

My stomach rebels at the offering. “For the cheeseburgers?”

“Ewww, no!” she says while making a gagging face. “You haven’t experienced life until you’ve dunked your fries in strawberry jam.”

“That is disgusting.” Not even Cy would try that during one of his experiments about taste buds.

LeLe shrugs and makes what sounds like a chicken bwaking.

Did she just squawk at me? At me ? Oh no, that is not how this is going to go.

Without giving myself time for second thoughts, I open up the basket and swipe a few fries. She has the jar opened before I’m even done with that, a knowing grin on her face.

“Fine, I’ll try it.” I dip the fries into the red goo and then take a bite. It is, without question, even better than dunking my fries in a chocolate shake. “Fuck me.”

She doesn’t say I told you so , at least not with words, and we go find a spot on the grass to watch the fountain show and enjoy our burgers and strawberry jam fries.

An hour later we’re out of food, but not of stories about our siblings and all the trouble they get into.

I shouldn’t be having fun telling her about Cy and Sigrid—without using their names, of course—but I am.

There’s something about watching her nose scrunch up when she laughs that makes me want to tell her more and more just to make her laugh again.

“So, after my sister hexed my brother so every goat on the farm followed him around all summer like he was some kind of Bovidae Pied Piper,” I say, “that’s how he ended up with a goat familiar, which you have to admit is weird.”

LeLe rolls her eyes. “My family has no room to talk on weird familiars. My sister has a rooster. It lives in a coop in the yard, but always seems to be shadowing me inside the house anyway. The number of times the big jerk has cock-a-doodle-dooed at me before I’ve had my first elderberry tea in the morning and scared the crap out of me.

” She presses her hand over her heart and shakes her head. “That rooster is mostly evil, I swear.”

“You think you know evil familiars?” I counter. “My brother’s goat ate my sister’s favorite book. She’d waited hours in line to get it signed by the author, and he just snagged it off her nightstand and gobbled it up.”

“Oh,” LeLe gasps, “that’s bad.”

“Very.” Cy has no idea how close that goat came to being dinner that night. “My brother had to go deep into his savings to buy another copy off of HexBay.”

“Your sister’s and my brother’s familiars can never meet,” she says, and begins to put our now-empty dishes back in the picnic basket.

I whisper a quick clean-up spell that sends everything but the picnic blanket we’re on back to the resort’s kitchen and pull her down so she’s lying with me on it, tucking her close against my side as we look up at the night sky.

“So you’ve told me about the wild things your sisters have done; what about you? ”

“Me?” She snorts dismissively. “I am the boring sister. I just do what I’m supposed to do.”

“I don’t believe that. I know how you are in elevators.

” An image of her face as she watched me sink my fingers inside her flashes in my mind, and my dick hardens at the memory.

The temptation to roll onto my side and kiss her until we have to go back to one of our rooms or get charged with public indecency is turning my whole body into one tensed muscle. “I think we just need to prove it.”

Her cheeks are pink because she must be remembering the same thing. “You want me to be followed around by all of the goats in Vegas?”

That reminder of Cy couldn’t come at a better time. Another thirty seconds and I would forget about my carefully laid plans to save him and Sigrid from my father. I can’t do that. They are all that matter.

“Already been done.” I jump up and stand at the far corner of the blanket, needing to put space between LeLe and myself before I forget again.

“Nope, we have to go big. If this is your one go-out-and-be-outrageous moment in time before you go home and back to your regular life, we need to really do it up.”

She sits up and pulls her knees close to her chest. “Just coming to Vegas is adventurous enough for me.”

I could leave it here. Walk away. Nothing has been done yet that can’t be undone.

Who are you, Svensen? Don’t go soft now. She’s a spoiled, beloved Sherwood and the only answer to the problem of how to get rid of your despot of a dad. Pull your shit together.

Listening to that inner voice I know is right, I square my shoulders and force my mouth to shape itself into the teasing, conspiratorial smile that has almost always gotten me exactly what I want.

“You’re selling yourself short,” I say, keeping my tone light and fun. “You’ve got it in you, you just need to let it out like you did in the elevator. It felt good, didn’t it? Don’t you want to do that again? Come on, we’re going to walk until we find some good, dumb fun.”

LeLe purses her full lips together and lets out a little breath. “I don’t know.”

“Let me be your bad influence, just for tonight.” I hold out my hand to her. “Let’s both be the people we wish we could be at home.”

She hesitates for a second and then takes my hand.

We start walking down the strip, past the casinos, restaurants, and tourist shops.

I keep the pace casual, stopping here and there as if we’re just aimlessly wandering even though our destination is the little white chapel underneath a giant neon Elvis.