Page 2 of Perfectly Perfect Pixie

I stood beside my cottage—a small, one-bedroom affair. It was petite and welcoming. Mae and Don had often apologized that they couldn’t afford to build me anything larger. I had no complaints. I didn’t need more room. The only reason I needed anything at all was for the upcoming winter. During more temperate weather, I might spend days, if not weeks, without stepping inside.

With the sun shining and the temperature already in the low sixties, it was a beautiful late September day in Virginia. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to relax, but I didn’t think it was a bad idea to try.

With that thought in mind, my wings sprang back to life, lifting me off the ground and scattering golden pixie dust into the air. It wasn’t far from one of my favorite trees, and I couldn’t think of a better place to pass the hours until it was time to greet my friends, welcoming them into the orchard I’d claimed, the ground and trees I’d bonded with—my home.

* * *

“It’s absolutely beautiful, Peaches!” Phil held his arms out, and I slammed into him.

I had to fly up to embrace him since he was about two feet taller than the typical pixie. Careful of our wings, we clung to each other. Phil’s mate, Sedrick, didn’t even jealously grumble this time.

“I got a look at some of the apples when I came in. If they taste as good as they look, you’ve done fantastic work here.” Sedrick slid in next to Phil, wrapping his arm around his mate’s waist and pulling him into his side.

Phil went more than willingly, melting into Sedrick’s side and leaning into the kiss Sedrick planted on Phil’s mating mark. I glanced away as Phil shivered with pleasure.

Clearing my throat, I said, “You’ll have to try one later and let me know.” Sedrick grinned, a hint of white teeth glinting behind his neatly trimmed beard. Dressed in what appeared to be a cleaner—or maybe less stained—version of sturdy work clothes, Sedrick couldn’t look any more disparate than Phil. There was a time, thankfully long past when Phil’s décor would have complimented his mate. In this case, that wasn’t a good thing.

It had taken time for Sedrick to learn the truth, but once he had, he’d accepted it and more than rolled with pixie fashion. I was happy to see Phil was dressed to the pixie nines. The pink and cream spider silk shifted around his body like water. The pink diamond in a platinum setting choker neatly fitted around his neck sparkled in the late afternoon sun. Phil’s gorgeous pink ombre hair danced around his shoulders, and his pink wings fluttered here and there. Pink pixie dust shimmered around him, and for reasons none of us fully understood, Sedrick’s nose didn’t so much as twitch in annoyance.

“Uncle Sed! Did you see all the apples? And there are caramel-dipped ones too.” Dillon held up an example, nearly three-fourths eaten. His lips tinged with caramel. His younger sister, Ruthie, wasn’t any better and had caramel all over her fingers and on the sleeve of her shirt.

Sedrick sighed, and Phil shook his head, the gentlest grin lifting his lips.

“No,” Sedrick answered, voice low and barely reproachful. “But it looks like you and Ruthie found them just fine.”

Completely nonplussed, Dillon vigorously nodded.

“It’s really good.” Ruthie grinned brightly.

My breath caught in my throat. I still wasn’t used to hearing Ruthie speak. Phil and I talked at least two to three times a week, mostly on the phone, since we were both bonded pixies now, and being away from our bonded areas was draining and painful. It was also deadly to stay away from our sites for too long. If Phil was with Sedrick, Dillon, or Ruthie, he could stay away from the house longer. Since I couldn’t take any of my trees with me, my case was slightly different.

“Totally good,” Dillon agreed. “Thanks, Peaches.” Dillon grinned up at me. He was a growing alpha werewolf. In a few years, I’d have to look up to see his face. For now, he was still shorter.

“You’re very welcome. The two of you can eat as many apples as you want. We’ve also got apple cider and apple sauce. Mae and Don are dishing up freshly baked apple pie in the tent. You’re welcome to it, and if there’s any left after today’s celebration, you’re welcome to take some home with you.”

Dillon’s eyes widened. “Holy shi—”

“Dillon.” Sedrick rumbled, a deep, low growl filling the air. “Language.”

Slumping, Dillon huffed.

Phil and I shared a knowing glance. Phil had told me Dillon’s cursing was an issue. It was a difficult one to regulate. The time Dillon and Ruthie had to stay with the dwarves Sedrick employed at his mine hadn’t done Dillon’s language any favors. Especially Ollie.

Speaking of said dwarves . . . a charter bus dipped and swayed down the gravel lane, headed toward the festivities. I’d felt it enter through the edge of my bonded boundary. No one on board meant any harm, so they’d barely been a blip on my pixie radar.

All eyes turned toward the bus as it groaned to a halt, breaks squealing. Once stopped, the doors opened, and music blared to life. Raucous laughter joined that music, and dwarves shuffled off the bus, one after another.

“Ollie! Burt!” Dillon and Ruthie screamed together before they ran full force toward the group.

“Is that a party bus?” Phil asked, stunned.

“Hell, I didn’t think Ollie was serious.” Sedrick rubbed his face, fingers digging in and tugging his beard.

“You knew?” Phil blinked, and his wings fluttered.

“Sort of,” Sedrick hedged. “I mean, Ollie said something about it, but I thought he was just spouting off a bunch of shit. You know how he is. It’s hard to tell when he’s serious or trying to get a rise out of me.”

Phil’s lips parted, words on the tip of his tongue. In the end, he swallowed hard and nodded.

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