Charming as Puck(47)

Felicity’s not being mean. It’s just what everyone wants to know.

“Nope, but I’ll tell you what will.”

The bratwurst leans in conspiratorially. “You got a plan, Murphy?”

“Fetch,” I tell it.

“With the cow?”

“Sugarbear. And you know what she likes?”

Thrusty suddenly flies to Felicity’s other side. “Bratwurst?” he says sarcastically.

I shrug. “I was going to say me, but sure. I’ll bet she likes playing fetch with bratwurst too.”

Kami’s giggling, and fuck if the sight of her happy doesn’t put a spring in my heart.

Is Lavoie right? Is this what love’s like? Because I’d give my right nut to keep her smiling like this every day.

I look back at Felicity, and I see something I haven’t ever seen before.

At least, not directed at me.

It’s happiness.

Not that I don’t make my sister happy—we snipe at each other, yeah, and I get why she doesn’t want me dating one of her best friends—but this is a different kind of happy.

It’s an I’m happy for you smile.

An I’m happy for you smile that disappears as fast as I caught it.

“If the cow likes you, she must not have any better options,” Felicity quips as Thrusty.

“He’s a package deal,” Sugarbear replies. “I get Felicity too. She’s moooootiful.”

“Can we back up a minute?” Felicity says as herself. “Sugarbear, how did you end up moving—I mean, moooooving in with Nick?”

“She was a gift,” I say quickly, because I know Felicity too well to let her answer that as herself, or as Thrusty, or as Sugarbear, and especially as Loki.

“Someone likes you that much?” Thrusty asks.

“They didn’t know I have a thing for cows.”

Felicity’s eyes take on a spark, and fuck.

I’m going to be getting cow shit for years. Possibly actual cow shit. Which I’ll still save for use against Zeus Berger just when he’s starting to get comfortable.

“When you say you have a thing for cows…” Felicity says as Loki, who’s now climbing onto my shoulder and picking at my hair.

“They’re cute.” If I’m going to dig a hole, might as well dig it deep. I rub Sugarbear’s snout. “Who wouldn’t love this sweet face?”

And I do like the cow. She’s a really good substitute for a dog.

“You heard him, ladies. Nick Murphy likes cows.” Thrusty grins at me, which is disconcerting regardless of the number of times I’ve done interviews with the puppet since Felicity started with the Thrusters last year, because a sausage with a rocket pack coming out its ass should be disconcerting. “The cuter the better. Think maybe you need a stuffed cow to fit inside your pads next time you start, Murphy?”

“Got a nice warm spot in my armpit just the right size for a bratwurst,” I reply.

“You have issues, dude,” Loki says.

I probably do.

But Kami’s bent over with her face stuffed in the sleeve of her jacket, trying not to laugh, and I suddenly don’t care if I get a thousand stuffed cows sent to me at the arena.

Kami likes me again.

I don’t know where I’m taking her Tuesday night, but it’ll damn sure be somewhere spectacular.

I’m not about to fuck this up again.





Twenty-Six





Kami



There’s nothing like a real first date to inspire yet another case of the butterflies.

Or possibly I mean a case of the hummingbirds, because those suckers can really beat the air, and they’re vicious when they fight, and I’m pretty sure all those nerves in my stomach are dueling right now, because I might be close to throwing up.

It’s not that I don’t want to go on a real date with Nick.

It’s more that I’m terrified we’ll actually start dating, for real, and then one of us will spend the whole night sleeping over with the other, and he’ll snore, or I’ll talk in my sleep. Or we’ll try to cook a meal together and he’ll insist it’s the man’s job to grill and he’ll end up burning everything and we’ll order pizza instead and he’ll forget about the mushrooms again. Or I’ll ask if we can watch one of those new romantic comedies on Netflix, and he’ll pretend he didn’t hear me and put on some movie about hockey players who go to war in space, and then all the magic will be ruined and I’ll realize I should’ve just gone along with Maren when she suggested we get sperm donors and make our own commune.

My phone dings, and I unplug it and grab it off my dresser while Dixie and Tiger race circles around me.

It’s Muffy.

And the six texts that follow tell me she’s made friends with my friends, and she’s pulling them into this conversation.

Muffy: Kami, where’s he taking you? Don’t say to the zoo. That’s so stereotypical for a guy to think a vet must want to go to the zoo. Unless he finagled a private tour so you get to pet the tigers.

Alina: Pretty sure there will be tiger petting going on tonight.

Muffy: Yeah, I want details on THAT too.

Maren: Oh, yuck.

Felicity: Why am I in this conversation?