Page 82 of Wishing for a Werewolf

He starts to point to me, and I laugh and shake my head. “Don’t bother,” I whisper, knowing his fae hearing will pick it up. “The wish swap, remember? They also think you’re responsible for the soap.”

“It’s not right.” He scowls as we follow them back around the maze to their car. “You deserve credit for your hard work.”

“It’ll come.” For the first time since we realized what thewish swap spell had done to us, I have hope. “We got your security business started and made it through the pumpkin carving contest. The hay maze will soon be a success as well.”

“That leaves just your soap shop to go,” he says.

“Yep, just the soap shop,” I lie, saying zip, zilch, zero about my heart wish for true love.

Everything goes smoothly that evening, with four trips of horse-drawn hayrides bringing people from the town green to the farm. As the last batch of people enters the maze, Maria climbs down from the wagon to check on the horses.

I take a quick break to jog over to her. “Hi, Maria. I wanted to say thanks for doing this.” I wave to take in the horse-drawn wagon, piled with yellow straw. “Our goats are great, but pulling a wagon issonot in their wheelhouse.”

Tiny and built like the jockey she is, Maria gives me an assessing look, her brown eyes sharp in her tan face. Then she shrugs, a ghost of a smile playing over her lips. “It worked out. We got a new thoroughbred who’s really high strung. He would have hated all the people and noise.”

“Still, thank you.”

“You did a good job.” Her eyes flick over the hay maze. “I assume you did something with soaps near the exit to remind people what your farm specializes in?”

“I did, and I set up a goat-petting area, too.”

“Good.” Maria gives me an approving nod, and comingfrom her, that really means something. She and her brother took over the Vasquez Horse Farm from their parents and made it one of the most successful businesses in Ferndale Falls.

I ask her for a favor and text Dad a quick question, to which he says yes. When I trot over to Rune at the maze’s exit, there’s a little skip in my step.

Once the last group of people choose their prizes and pet the goats, they head back to the hay wagon, and I pull Rune along in their wake.

“What are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise.”

He frowns. “I hate surprises.”

“Well, if you hate this one, I’ll bake you a batch of homemade cookies to make it up to you.”

“Goat cookies?”

“No!” I sputter. “Not goat cookies.”

“Thank the goddess.”

“Wait.” I point at him. “You tried one?”

“You did call them cookies…”

I laugh, imagining him crunching through the unshelled seeds. “Oh, my god! They must have been socrunchy.”

“Extremely.” His tone sounds so serious it makes me laugh harder.

Then his lips twitch, and I realize he’s teasing me back, and I love it. I love that underneath all the gruff is someone happy to play and joke and laugh.

When we reach the hay wagon, Maria gives me a nod, and I grab the edge to climb on.

Two massive hands span my waist, pickingme up and depositing me onto the wagon bed effortlessly.

Whew, that’s so effing hot.

Rune climbs on after me, so big he has to squish right up against me as we sit on the straw.