Page 15 of A Roar for Magic

“Destiny?” Romi wiggled her eyebrows.

“A disaster,” Clover finished firmly, but her traitor lips curved upward. “Though I suppose it could have been worse.”

“Oh, honey.” Sabine set down her latte, eyes dancing. “It’s about to get so much worse. In the best possible way.” She reached into her designer handbag and pulled out what appeared to be a contract. “How much would it take?”

Clover blinked. “How much what?”

“Money. Resources. Magical artifacts. Name your price to date my brother.”

“Sabine!”

“What? Most people have to pay women to keep them away from men. I’m willing to fund this romance because watching him pine after you is both adorable and slightly pathetic.” She tapped the contract. “I even had it drawn up by the pride’s lawyers. Very official.”

Romi peered at the document. “Is that a clause about mandatory date nights?”

“With a sub-clause about proper romantic lighting and minimum requirements for meaningful eye contact.” Sabine nodded seriously. “I’m very thorough.”

“You’re both impossible.” Clover tried to glare, but it was difficult when she was fighting laughter. “And I don’t need incentives to?—”

“To what?” Romi pounced on her hesitation. “To spend time with the incredibly attractive alpha who keeps finding excuses to visit your shop? Who, according to certain sources—” she nodded at Sabine “—has been asking very specific questions about Weaver’s Botanicals?”

“He’s probably just researching local vendors for his new medical spa,” Clover said, but even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “It makes sense to source locally.”

“Right.” Sabine rolled her eyes. “Because billion-dollar CEOs always personally inspect small-town shops. Multiple times.Making adorably awkward small talk about candle scents while trying not to stare at the owner like she’s personally responsible for hanging the moon and stars.”

“He doesn’t stare at me like that.”

Romi patted her hand. “He absolutely does.”

“Really?” Clover’s brow furrowed.

“Yes.” Sabine’s eyes lit up.

“You’re not joking around?” Clover’s heart thudded double-time.

Sabine’s voice softened. “He met you and immediately came to me to ask about you and Weaver’s Botanicals. He even went as far as asking about your medical tinctures.”

“He asked about the tinctures specifically?”

“Mh-mmm. And the botanical blends. Very interested in your whole magical herbalist operation.” Sabine waggled her eyebrows. “Almost like he might have plans that require your expertise.”

“Speaking of plans,” Romi cleared her throat, “we should probably discuss the wedding before we get completely sidetracked by Clover’s budding romance?—”

“There is no budding romance!”

“—because if you think I’m letting my best friend and favorite cousin avoid helping plan my special day by hiding behind all this delicious romantic tension, you’re sadly mistaken.”

A dark shape swooped through the café’s open window, cutting off whatever protest Clover had been about to make. Poe landed on their table in a flutter of glossy feathers, sending sugar butterflies scattering and coffee cups dancing.

“Trouble!” he squawked, feathers bristling. “Claw marks behind the shop! Tiger, again.”

Clover’s amusement vanished. “Again?”

“Fresh marks. Come see!”

“I’ll come with you.” Sabine rose, her playful demeanor shifting to something more serious. “If there are rogues in pride territory?—”

“No.” Clover stood, gathering her bag. “You have that meeting with the elders. I can handle this.”

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