Page 7 of Perfectly Perfect Pixie

“You’re bein’ awfully silent over there, Lucroy. Somethin’ on your mind?” Johnny didn’t exactly lean in, but his voice was raised enough for me to hear.

When I focused on my friend, I was surprised to see the obvious concern radiating from his whiskey-colored eyes, eyes so full of life and very different from my black, blown-out pupils.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” I finally answered.

Johnny blew out a disbelieving breath. “You keep tellin’ yourself that. When you’re ready to discuss it, you know where to find me.”

Someone yelled for Johnny. It wasn’t the first time. The bar was busy, and the other bartenders needed help. I pushed away from the wall I’d been leaning against and made my way toward the door leading to the main floor. I didn’t feel like socializing further tonight and decided to head downstairs, underground, to where I called home. A space polar opposite to the cottage that had been designed for Peaches.

ChapterThree

PEACHES

“It’s getting colder, Phil. Did you talk to Sedrick yet about getting you some pixie boots?”

Phil reached for a kitchen cabinet door. Naturally, it opened before he touched it. Phil didn’t even look at the cabinet. He just pulled out the raisins and set them on the counter. With his hair piled on his head, Phil looked like a pink cotton candy explosion.

“No. Not yet,” Phil stubbornly answered.

Groaning, I tilted my head, staring at the ceiling. With Sedrick at the mine and Dillon and Ruthie in school, only the house heard my groan. “Phil . . .” I whined. “You need to say something. You know Petal’s Posh Pants won’t have pixie boots in your size. They’ll need to be a special order, and I refuse.” I pointed a wagging finger at my best friend’s chest. “I absolutely refuse to allow you to wear those awful, cumbersome boots you had to wear when you worked at Dusk.” Those shoes had been awful. I couldn’t even imagine how heavy they were. How suffocating.

Pixie boots were nothing like what Phil had been forced to wear. They were soft, filled with down, and had waterproof leather soles. Pixies hated having their feet covered, but living in colder climes, needs must. It was a compromise that worked.

“I know.” Phil nodded while cracking an egg.

He was making oatmeal raisin cookies—one of my favorites. Snickerdoodles would be next. Three days after the fall festival at Mulligan’s Orchard, I took a little trip out to Phil and Sedrick’s. I’d called a rideshare and been dropped off. I was okay away from my orchard for a few hours. I’d either call a rideshare to take me back later, or if Sedrick was available, he might offer me a lift.

“If you don’t tell him, then I will.” I crossed my arms, wings furiously beating and lifting me off the ground high enough I could look Phil in the eyes. I did just that when he turned, eyes wide, grassy-green and sparkling.

“I don’t want to stress him out. Sedrick’s done so much for me, purchased so many things. I hate to ask for more.”

I groaned, long and deep. Scrubbing my face with my hands, I flew toward my friend, hovering just in front of Phil. I grasped his forearms within my hands. “Phil, listen to me and listen well. Sedrick will be hurt more if you don’t tell him what you need. Cost isn’t an issue. I know you’re not used to asking for things. You’re a home-and-hearth pixie. It’s in your nature to care for others, and accepting that same level of care is difficult. Sedrick loves you. You’re hismate. He wants to do things for you.” I shook my head. “More than that, he needs to. Sedrick’s an alpha werewolf. Denying him this is harmful to his wolf.”

“I . . .” Phil opened and closed his mouth, finally snapping it shut with a definitive nod. “I’ll tell him tonight.”

“Good.” I blew out a relieved breath, relaxing my fluttering wings and landing on the floor. The air shimmered in a haze of gold pixie dust. I was glad Sedrick and the kids weren’t around. They’d be sneezing fools right about now. I tried to control my wings when they were around, but it was hard. Flying was instinct.

Phil turned back to his cookies. His back was conveniently toward me when he asked, “So, how did it go with Mr. Moony?”

I stopped mid-step, heart picking up speed. I didn’t think Phil would ever be able to call his old boss by his first name. Lucroy would forever be Mr. Moony in Phil’s eyes.

“Fine,” I answered, crisp and clear. “Why do you ask?”

Phil’s arms stopped beating the cookie batter. Still facing the counter, Phil twisted around enough that I could see his disbelieving eyes. “Really? That’s how you’re going to play this?” Phil huffed, beating the batter more furiously. “Why do you ask? Why do you think I asked? Mr. Moony doesn’t usually attend events like that. He’s a city vamp. More than a city vamp. He’s king of the—”

“I know what he is,” I snapped, voice far harsher than I meant.

Phil jerked as if I’d physically slapped him.

Immediately contrite, I flew to my friend, burying my face between his wings and wrapping my arms around his middle. I couldn’t quite reach the whole way around, but it was good enough. “I’m sorry, Phil. I didn’t mean to sound like a bitchy social pixie.”

Phil patted one of my hands. “I know. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have pressed. It’s none of my business.”

I wasn’t sure that was true. If the situation were reversed, I would have asked the same thing and probably been a lot snarkier about it.

Giving Phil a final squeeze, I pulled away but shifted to his side. With a little hop, I settled my butt on the counter next to Phil. My wings bumped into a few things, but overall I managed.

Head down, my hair fell all around me. I’d washed the extra sparkle out last night. Chewing on my bottom lip, I tried to think of what to say—how to wrangle my feelings. “It’s a sore subject,” I finally settled on.

---