Page 12 of Enduring Magic

Biting back a laugh, Summer acknowledged to herself that Coop was correct. Alastair loved to torture him with the little things and about magical abilities in particular.

“Knox and Spring are always happy to take Ollie, sweetheart. You know that. I feel my cousin secretly wants babies but is afraid to mention it to his wife for fear she doesn’t want them.”

“Knox is afraid of Spring?” Summer smiled. “Just wait until I tell her.”

“Don’t you dare! He’ll kill me, badge or no.”

“Fine, but I dub thee Spoiler of Fun.”

Coop’s deep chuckle filled the cab. “You already did. Ages ago.”

“For the record, Spring isn’t against babies. She simply wants to enjoy alone time with Knox for a while longer. Preferably, she’d like to wait until thirty-three to get started, or so she said. That gives them another few years to be child-free and travel.”

“Will it go against your sisterly code if I reveal it to him?”

“Nah. She’d probably tell him herself if he were brave enough to ask.”

When they pulled up at the bakery in Franklin, Summer spotted her parents on the sidewalk in front of the shop. She paused to watch their interaction, marveling at how young they appeared and how in love they still were. As Aurora spoke, Alastair hyper focused on her. At that moment, she was his be-all, end-all, and he hung on every word as it fell from her lips. She, in turn, was animated, waving her hands in the air as she spoke. Deep and abiding love shone from the ice-blue eyes locked on her partner, and she threw back her head to laugh at some quip he uttered in response to whatever she’d just told him.

They existed in a world of their own, and yet, the instant Coop parked the SUV, Alastair raised his head and shot them a quick glance.

“How does he do that?” Coop shook his head. “It’s like he knew we were here the entire time.”

“Ask him. But I imagine he can feel the power of two witches.”

“Hmm. Good point.” Clasping hands, he approached her parents and greeted them with his usual friendly but professional Sheriff nod.

Aurora was having none of his distant behavior, and she hugged him as if he were one of her own children, showering him with affection. “Cooper!”

“Good morning, Rorie. Thanks for doing this. Summer and I would still be wondering where to start with the wedding prep.”

“Nonsense, dear. She’s my daughter, and you’re about to become my son. This is a mother’s fondest wish.”

“To plan a wedding?” Alastair asked, droll as fuck.

She elbowed him in the ribs. “To see her daughter happy.” With a quick check of her watch, she ushered them inside. “Come. We have a short window until the next cake tasting. Carla was a love and worked us in as a favor to her mother.”

“Who’s her mother?” Summer asked.

“My old school friend, Cora Masters.”

“Masters?” Alastair frowned. “Any relation to Draven Masters, the reluctant Guardian?”

“Distant cousins, I believe,” Rorie replied with a thoughtful look. She shrugged and waved her hand. “We can ask her. But for right now, cake!”

6

The cake samples ranged from the traditional flavors—vanilla with buttercream, decadent chocolate, and strawberry—to a unique explosion of flavors for the more discerning palate.

“There has to be at least fifteen varieties here.” To say Coop was surprised by the plethora of options, all handwritten so neatly on the placement cards, was to put it mildly. He could count on one hand the number of weddings he’d attended in his lifetime, and they were run-of-the-mill, basic vanilla cake with buttercream frosting. “I’ve never heard of half those flavors. Chocolate Chai? Honey Lavender?”

“Blackberry elder. Olive oil, rosemary, and thyme. Hazelnut pumpkin.” Alastair shuddered noticeably. “As much as I hate to agree with Cooper, I believe some of these flavors are over the top.”

“I never said they were over the top,” Coop replied. Sure, he’d thought it, but he hadn’t said it aloud. It wouldn’t do to look like a provincial, backwater Deputy Do-Right.

“You didn’t have to. I felt your revulsion, son.”

“Fine. But for Summer’s sake, I’m not ruling anything out.” He paused and eyed the label for the olive oil, rosemary, and thyme plate. “Except for that one,” he said, pointing at the offending cake. “I can’t imagine olive oil in a cake tastes all that great.”

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