Page 60 of Werewolves Don't Howl
It was breathtaking, and standing on the side, greeting the guests with the rest of my family was less awkward than I expected, mostly thanks to Cross who was available at a table so my mother could point at him when she said my name, so no one thought I was the pathetic outcast who couldn’t get a date because no gnome would ever be with a female taller than him.
The most awkward moment was when Bram’s best friend growing up came along and gave me a big hug that lasted a little longer than it should have. He was handsome enough for a gnome, all jolly, brawny, with a healthy tan and full thick hair, but I didn’t register it the same as the last time I’d seen him. He wasn’t more handsome than Max or any other attractive werewolf that I wasn’t interested in dating. The most appealing thing about him was the cozy world he would build with whatever happy gnome he settled down with. My pool house was adorable enough for any gnome. If only it had an oven. Not that I was moving back into Cross’s pool house.
When we sat down and began the long process of eating, toasts, and breaking out in spontaneous song and dance, Cross leaned closer to me.
“Are you all right?”
“How difficult do you think it would be to put an oven in the pool house?”
His brows raised over his stunning violet eyes. He was so out of place with all the gnomes, like my father, the two oaks in a grove of plum trees. “I’ve never put an oven in a pool house, so I can’t say. I don’t imagine it would be much more difficult than putting in a regular kind of house. That’s what you’re thinking about at your brother’s wedding? Not that it would be nice to marry a jolly gnome and have the world’s most adorable wedding beneath the cherry trees?”
I glanced around to make sure no one was listening to us. My mother was talking to her sister loudly about the proper seasoning in mulled wine. My father was on her other side, discussing a new propagation technique for asparagus with our closest neighbor.
“No. Such dreams are vain. Didn’t you know that a gnome can’t marry a woman taller than he is?”
He looked at me incredulously. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not. The only gnomes who have a different opinion aren’t the cozy kind who live in the same place for fifteen generations.”
“And what other kind would you have? That is strange to me.”
“I know. It’s like the werewolves all over again. I’m so adorable, and I cook. Who wouldn’t want me?” I grinned at him and patted his arm. “Is that really all you want in a wife? Adorableness and cooking?”
He shot me a look, guarded, almost like he’d remembered that he was head of the House of Mercy and might have to assassinate me at some point. “Absolutely not. I want kindness and cooking. Adorableness is an added bonus.”
I snickered. “How lucky for you to have found everything you want and more. We might as well go ahead and have a few babies for my mother to show off.”
“Absolutely. I think that the purpose of babies is so that grandmothers can exploit them.” There was an edge to his voice that I didn’t understand.
“Well, what else would you do with them? They’re like kittens. You don’t think that Henrick will eat Lynx, do you?”
“Of course not. Maybe we should have brought her with us.”
I elbowed him. “Aw, you miss her. Too bad. She’s mine. You’ll have to get your own cozy kitten.”
“You have a cat?” my adorable cousin Fera asked, as she passed behind us, putting a hand on my shoulder and giving Cross a flirty smile. My beast wanted to rip off her face, but I focused on feeling cozy and contented.
“Delphinia and I have a cat, yes,” he said with a cool smile that she should take as a rejection.
She grabbed a chair on another table and pulled it between us, bumping my chair as she tried to get closer to the fascinating elf. She leaned over the table so her cleavage threatened to spill out. “So, are you two really together?”
My mother leaned over the table to glare at her niece. Her voice was loud, piercing. “Fera, do you want me to rip out your hair? No? Then don’t stick it between my future son-in-law and my daughter. You know how hard it is to get anyone to date her.”
The orchard was so quiet that I could hear the bees buzzing above us while the whole neighborhood stared at me.
“I have a very easy time dating her,” Cross said smoothly, voice charming, persuasive and absolute. He stood, towering over Fera, then took my hand and forcibly removed me from my chair, then led me to the space where the musicians were standing around, waiting for the dancing to start.
“Play,” he ordered them, and they obeyed, starting a reel that was all bounce and no grace. Cross didn’t know that it wasn’t supposed to be graceful, because he poured it on, dancing with me the dance he’d messed up the night before. Today, he seemed to know just how to throw me, which was lightly, and how close to hold me, which was not close enough. It wasn’t a dance where you switched partners, and for a long time, we were spinning and moving together. For once I felt as graceful as a real elf, because Cross was twice as graceful as one should be, and made every one of my movements perfection.
“You’re very good.”
“Yes. Elf lords are notoriously good dancers,” he said as he led me around in a circle.
“You’re supposed to compliment my dancing, not brag about being an elf lord.”
“There is no one else I’d rather dance with.”
I squinted at him. “That was not a compliment.”
