Page 76 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“Harrison Cobb would have a field day analyzing you. Maybe you and Tripp can get a family discount.”

One emerald eye popped open, and his lips curled with his amusement. “Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise now that you’ve proclaimed your love for Prince Charming.”

“Prince… Why did you call him that?” She settled next to him, with her back against the headboard. Staring morosely at her boots, she tapped the tips together.

“If you wish to go home, Dorothy, you need to tap the heels together,” he said dryly.

“Hush, you turd.”

“Turd? I’ve been downgraded from ‘Shitbag?’” His black brow shot up, and his resemblance to Tripp was more pronounced.

“A small downgrade. I’m still not happy you posed as Hex. Why did you?”

“I suspected Tripp would eventually find you. It’s the Fates’ design. And it was your last chance with my fabulous footwear.”

She snorted. “Tripp calls them ‘fatal footwear.’”

“He doesn’t understand the beauty of my design.”

“I don’t either. Why did you curse me?” she asked.

“They were never meant as a curse, love. They were to elevate your magic and give you the courage to act when needed.” He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. Smiling, he touched the closest crystal-shaped amethyst dangling from a glittery purple lace. “I like your take on them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every person who opens the box will see a different pair of shoes, depending on their mood. It’s a whimsy I built into the enchantment. As I did the sizing.” He grinned. “Don’t tell Brelenia I said this, but you have daintier feet. Her big boats are her vanity.”

“Shut up,” she laughed and shoved him. “They are not. She’s not vain in that sense.”

“Isn’t she, though?”

Because he sounded thoughtful, Elara considered it. “I don’t think so, but why don’t you explain it to me.”

“Her greatest vanity is theperfectimage she always needs to create. The perfect family, marrying Enguerrand the Dull and producing a passel of children. The perfect oasis, Messia—where the weather is ideal all year, and the people never stop smiling. The perfect son, Tripp.” Hermes flicked her knee. “The perfect daughter-in-law.”

Unease settled in Elara’s breast. “Stop it. You’re stirring up your special brand of dog doo. You’ve been upgraded from Sir Turd to Sir Shit-stirrer.”

“I speak the truth. Always.”

“With a suggestive tone, as if you have a secret no one else knows.” She cast him a sour look. “And I suppose you do. You like to keep things close to your chest.”

“I’d like to keep you close to my chest. And other body parts.”

“See!” She poked his nose. “That right there. You’re a flipping troublemaker, Hermes.”

“What has you fired up?” His too-charming grin flashed.

“Maybe the fact that you posed as Hex, and I loved him. But now, I have nothing, and it sucks.”

Another jewel flared, and she gaped at him.

“You did that on purpose,” she breathed.

His impossibly green eyes turned somber. “I’m invested in the outcome, love. You’re Stormy’s sister, and she deserves a living connection with you.”

“She’ll always have it if she wants it.” Elara smiled, happy to see another issue crossed off her list. “If the results weren’t deadly, I’d recommend everyone get a pair of these gorgeous boots.”

He chuckled. “Maybe I’ll create a new prototype.”

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