Page 69 of Bewitched & Bewildered
But it sounds like Ozan wants me there. Why does that make mewantto go?
“Who’s throwing it this year?” I ask.
“Donnie. You can’t miss a Donnie party.”
“Then I guess I’ll be there.”
There’s a rich air between us. My heart thumps in my chest.
“Let’s go together,” he says.
I should say no. I shouldwantto say no. But I don’t, and he doesn’t make it sound like a question. Ozan is sure of this. Why shouldn’t I be?
“Okay.” I drop my keys back into my purse. “You’re driving.”
I can’t believeI’m here with Ozan. It feelswrongto enter the party with him, and I know I’m not imagining things when heads turn to stare at us in the entryway. By this time tomorrow, they’ll be spreadingrumors about us.
They won’t betrue. I’m here so he can drive me home, and to have a drink or two. There’s no other reason.
Donnie and his husband throw the best parties in Starbrook. The others don’t bother trying to outshine them. The couple is especially known for their Christmas party, but their harvest party isn’t one you want to miss.
It’s not quite the Halloween party—that will be next week, andeveryonewill be dressed up.
This is more casual. Groups of people linger around their large home with glasses of spiked hot chocolate and warm cider. Soft music plays in the background.
“Juniper! Ozan!” Donnie calls our names as he weaves through the party. “Oh, it’s great to see you.”
Donnie is a tall, half-demon man. His outfits always match his purple, curling horns; tonight is no exception. He stands out in an otherwise casual party, and I know standing out is the intention. Donnielovesattention.
We’ve been acquaintances since high school—he was two years ahead of me. I can tell by how he looks at me that he’s surprised to see ustogether. Anyone from our school would be.
“Good to see you, too.” I smile politely. “You outdid yourself with this one.”
“You say that ateveryparty.” Donnie chuckles and gives me a one-armed hug. “Get a drink, settle in, and find me if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” Ozan pats the demon on the back.
We’re silent until Donnie is out of earshot.
“He’s right,” I mutter, going to the drink table. “I need a drink.”
Ozan follows. Of course, he does. We came together.
There’s no denying that feeling his colossal formshadowing me makes me warm. His presence is protective, even if he doesn’t mean it to be.
I pour myself a cup of warm cider, and, to my surprise, he grabs an ice-cold bottle.
“What? You aren’t cold?” I lift a brow.
He shrugs. “I run hot.”
My gaze sweeps over his body without meaning to—to the scruff of hair on his face and the chest hair poking out of his V-neck shirt…
I swallow thickly. “Yeah. You seem like you do.”
He doesn’t ask what I mean—and I’m grateful because I have no idea.Who says that?
A lazy smile appears on his lips. “You run cold, don’t you?”
