Page 9 of Petty AF (At First #1)

nine

~ River ~

A fter talking a client out of a bright yellow mermaid dress by telling her she’d look like a soggy banana, I was officially over this curse.

She’d strutted into the studio on six-inch Louis Vuitton’s with a picture of the ugliest dress I’d ever seen. So, yeah, I’d meant every damn word of it, but pre-hex, I would have at least tried to be more tactful about it.

Thankfully, she hadn’t taken it personally, calling it “refreshingly honest.” That had been pure luck, though, and it could have gone south so fast. If I had slipped up like that with the wrong client, I’d have been blacklisted before they even made it out of the shop.

I had tried. Really, I had. I’d done everything I could to reclaim some sense of normalcy, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I just wanted my life back, or at the very least, to not have every private thought broadcasted to the world.

Deaton had explained that I could go through the proper channels to request a meeting with the Warlock Regent, but it would take weeks, maybe even months. I didn’t have that kind of time.

While I had been prepared to beg, bribe, or write checks I couldn’t cash to expedite the process, as it turned out, none of that had been necessary.

Though she didn’t share my dislike of the warlock, Nadia had come through, using her influence and connections to negotiate a meeting.

I suspected she also felt a sense of responsibility, and maybe even a smidge of guilt, since she had been the one to secure my invite to the gala in the first place.

Of course, I didn’t blame her, but I was also desperate enough to use it to my advantage.

I’d donned a pair of black chinos and a beige V-neck for the meeting, aiming to appear presentable but as unassuming as possible. To combat the summer heat, I had tied my hair into a messy knot at the crown and opted for casual flip flops instead of my usual loafers.

In reality, I probably could have shown up naked with a bell around my neck, and I wouldn’t have gotten so much as a raised eyebrow from the warlock.

We met at a coffee shop in the city plaza, a public space with plenty of witnesses, both human and shadeling. I had also brought Deaton along for backup. Partly for comfort and solidarity, but largely to keep me on track and prevent the meeting from going off the rails.

I didn’t know if it would make a difference, but I figured false confidence had to be better than nothing.

Decorated in shades of blue and chrome, with neon lights and digital displays, the space boasted a futuristic atmosphere that managed to feel inviting rather than stark.

The utilitarian furniture that filled most cafes had been replaced with curving sofas and wide chairs with rounded backs situated around short, glass tables.

I sat in the middle of the steel-blue sofa, Deaton’s steadying presence pressed against my side. Still, my pulse raced, quick and thready, and my entire body vibrated with nervous energy.

I didn’t fear Joss in the strictest sense. Sure, he could probably turn me into a caterpillar if he wanted to, but I didn’t think he would, no matter how much I pissed him off. Even for someone with questionable morals and flexible boundaries, that seemed a little extreme.

I didn’t need him to like me, but I did need this meeting to go well. Considering my genuine distaste for the man and my current lack of filter, there didn’t seem to be a high probability of that happening.

“Don’t try to lie,” Deaton reminded me, taking my hand and linking our fingers together. “You know you can’t, and it’ll just make things worse.”

Not trusting myself to speak without my voice quivering, I simply nodded.

While I didn’t advocate lying, I also felt like, in some situations, a kind untruth might be considered acceptable.

I no longer had that capability. When I tried and ultimately failed, it only created panic and frustration.

The more emotional I became, the more I lost control, and around and around it went, ad nauseum.

“You’ve got this,” my mate added, brushing his thumb over the back of my hand. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”

My smile wobbled as I leaned more heavily against his side. “Thank you. I just want this to be over.”

We waited in uneasy silence, our heads swiveling toward the front door every time a new customer entered. Every second that ticked by felt like an eternity, the anticipation building to nearly unbearable levels.

Finally, just when I had started to think he wouldn’t show, Joss Weller stepped into the cafe, bringing with him a significant swing in the energy.

Conversations became muted or died away altogether.

The air became thicker, heavier, and though everyone averted their gaze as he crossed the room, the warlock commanded their attention.

Unlike when I’d met him at the gala, today, he looked completely…

ordinary. Almost approachable. His blond hair fell in soft, tousled waves around his face, and short stubble covered his jaw.

Sporting a pair of dark jeans and a fitted heather-gray tee, he looked more like a suburban soccer dad than a powerful warlock.

Approaching our table, he paused beside one of the chairs, his gaze raking over me, then Deaton, lingering just a fraction longer on our joined hands.

What he thought of that little detail, I didn’t know.

His eyes gave away nothing, and only an enigmatic grin fluttered at the corner of his lips as he took his seat across from us.

“I’m here,” he announced. “Say what you have to say and be quick about it.”

“We wouldn’t be here at all if you hadn’t cursed me,” I snapped back, wincing when Deaton’s hand tightened around mine in warning. “I want you to unhex me.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

He spoke with a conversational tone, not provoking or condescending, which allowed me to maintain a certain degree of composure. I had also expected some version of that question, and the dozens of times I’d practiced the conversation with Deaton seemed to be paying off.

I still had no choice other than to answer with the truth, but with no real anger behind it, I could serve him the facts without a side of petty commentary.

“It’s ruining my life, and frankly, I don’t think I deserved it in the first place. You insulted me, and I responded.”

Joss leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs, his eyes flickering toward my mate. “To be clear, I was actually insulting Deaton.”

“By insulting me.” I took a deep breath and reminded myself to stick to the facts. No need to insert my opinion. “As if being seen with a lowly human like me was somehow beneath him.”

That odd, mysterious smile returned. “You’re right to think I was provoking you,” he confessed. “You’re just wrong about the reasons.”

I hadn’t expected that, and as such, I didn’t have a strategy for it. Under no circumstances had I thought he would actually admit to any wrongdoing. Floundering, I ended up blurting out the first thing that popped into my head.

“Then what the hell was the reason?”

“That’s my business.”

“Is it because you have a hard-on for my mate?”

He stared back at me, his expression unreadable, and didn’t answer.

Though curiosity ate at me, I decided it really didn’t matter. Whatever his motivations, the result had been the same. Still super annoying, though.

“No more games,” Deaton demanded, speaking for the first time since the warlock had joined us. “Are you going to undo the hex or not?”

“Sure.” Resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, he splayed his fingers and brought the tips together in front of him. “As soon as he apologizes.”

I shook my head. I had expected this stipulation, and I already had my answer ready.

“I can’t do that because I don’t think what I said was wrong.” If anything, I had shown remarkable restraint…until he’d cursed me. “I can thank you, though. If it wasn’t for you, Deaton wouldn’t have kissed me to shut me up, and we might never have realized we were meant to be together.”

I hoped we would have eventually figured it out on our own, but I couldn’t know that. Meeting him had been one of the single most important events in my life, and I didn’t want to imagine my life without him.

And for that, I had only gratitude.

The warlock’s eyes flashed, a small, subtle movement at the corners, but I could tell my answer surprised him. Beyond that tiny tell, however, he gave away nothing, and he took his time, stretching the silence between us, before he responded.

Dropping his hands, he leaned forward and tilted his head, a cocksure smile curving his lips. “Not even a little apology?”

For some reason, instead of irritating me, the question made me laugh. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hold back my retort, and of course, I answered with brutal, stinging honesty.

“I’m sorry that you have the emotional intelligence of a caffeinated raccoon at feeding time.”

And the Warlock Regent of Circle City fucking laughed.

Not darkly. Not fake. A real laugh filled with warmth, indulgence, and actual humor.

“I think I like you, River Brighton.” Then he pushed up from his chair, adjusting the hem of his shirt as if preparing to leave.

“Wait, what does that mean? Are you going to unhex me?”

His gaze fluttered to mine and Deaton’s intertwined hands again. “Congratulations on your mating.”

Then he turned and walked away, ignoring my frantic calls for answers.

“It’s okay,” Deaton soothed, releasing my hand to curl an arm around me instead. “We both knew it was a long shot, but we’ll find another way.”

I still couldn’t believe the asshole had just walked away like that. Why had he even agreed to the meeting if he’d known it wouldn’t change anything?

But I didn’t say those things out loud. They didn’t burst past my lips in a flurry of indignation. Vibrating with anger and frustration, my entire inner monologue should have been ringing throughout the cafe, but I hadn’t said a word.

My breath caught, and something flickered inside my chest, a spark that felt suspiciously like hope.

“We might have to travel, maybe even overseas, but we can—”

“Ask me something,” I interrupted, spinning in my seat to face him.

Deaton frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” But I actually believed that, so it didn’t count. “Ask me something spicy.”

He stared at me for a long time, thinking, searching. Then slowly, his brow unknitted, and a cautious smile pulled at his mouth.

“The female at the counter. What do you think?”

I glanced toward the spot he indicated, easily finding the woman in question. I hadn’t seen her enter the shop, which kind of surprised me since she looked like a clown. That wasn’t me being facetious either.

She wore combat boots and a sparkly tutu over rainbow leggings with a tie-dyed crop top. Add the long, pastel pink wig and the harlequin makeup, and there was just a lot going on with that entire situation.

“She seems confident,” I said, deliberately choosing each word. “The wig is pretty.”

Deaton’s eyebrows winged toward his hairline. “River?”

“Yes!” Grinning so broadly it made my cheeks ache, I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “Oh, my god. I can’t believe this.” My heart hammered against my ribs, and relief flooded me, making me feel weak and shivery. “It’s really over.”

“I’m proud of you, baby.” He untangled my arms from his neck and sat back to look me in the eye. “However, just because you can hide your thoughts and feelings from me now, that doesn’t mean you get to.”

“To be fair, I’ll probably hide some of my thoughts from you.” He didn’t need to know every errant thing that popped into my head. “How else am I supposed to plan a surprise birthday party for you?”

Chuckling, he tilted my head up to claim my lips in a chaste kiss. “Fine. I guess I can make some allowances.”

“That’s very generous of you,” I teased back before becoming serious again. “I promise I won’t hide my feelings from you, though. Not ever. But that means you can’t hide from me either.” I arched an eyebrow at him. “Deal?”

“Deal,” he agreed easily.

“Even if I get on your nerves or piss you off.”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“And especially when you’re hot and bothered. I definitely want to know when that happens.”

His laughter was deep, rich, and utterly infectious. “I think I can manage that.” Cupping the back of my neck, he leaned in, bringing his forehead to rest against mine. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m going to love you so loudly you’ll probably get sick of it.”

I knew without a shadow of a doubt that would never happen, but for the first time in weeks, words failed me. In his eyes, I saw a future I hadn’t dared to hope for—bright, beautiful, and filled with possibilities—and I wanted it all.

Deaton had loved me when I had been at my worst. When I had given up on myself, he had still fought for me. Every day, even when it was hard, he chose me.

Then and there, I made a silent promise to ensure he never regretted that decision.