Page 33 of Extra Witchy

Even the elevators were fancy, requiring the key cards to access them. Their room was on the thirty-eighth floor, with an incredible view of the skyline. At night, the city probably glittered like a heap of jewels. He tucked his backpack out of sight in the closet and laid her suitcase on the folding rack meant for that purpose. She nudged into the space with him and started hanging up her clothes, perfuming the air with sweetness that went right to his head.

What did she say about her body wash? Orange blossom and juniper.

Her lotion carried a matching scent, and she didn’t seem to use perfume, relying instead on the layering from her other toiletries. She looked like a woman who would favor a stronger signature blend, but instead, she smelled unexpectedly innocent, like the last blooms of summer, that moment just before they ripened from flowers to fruit.

“Did you bring a suit?” she asked.

He flinched, glancing at his ratty backpack. “I don’t even own one.”

“It’s fine. We need to shop for rings anyway. Adding your suit to our to-do list isn’t a big deal.” She ran a hand through his hair, gently stroking a strand between her fingers. “I’m glad I’ll get to pick it out with you.”

“You’re not suggesting I get a haircut too?”

She lifted a shoulder in a graceful half shrug. “That’s up to you. The suit is to make our pictures pop.”

Surprised but pleased, he stepped away before he indulged the urge to hug her. “We’re even taking wedding photos?”

“Seven, to be precise. I got a ninety-nine-dollar package. It includes use of the chapel, ceremony, traditional music, filing of paperwork afterward, and they even provide witnesses if you need them. And it’s close to the office where we’ll get the license tomorrow.”

“You’ve thought of everything. Can I make a couple of requests?” He tried not to sound too tentative, but with her footing the bill, he felt like he had no right to be picky.

“Of course.”

“I’ve heard there are places here that you can get a deal on jewelry, and vintage suits are more interesting anyway.”

Leanne raised a brow, seeming amused. “You want to get our rings at a pawn shop and your suit from a thrift store?”

“Does that bother you? It’s because…I want to pay for both since you’re covering everything else, but I don’t have a lot to work with.” The admission shamed him, and he dropped his gaze, unable to face her derision.

Manicured fingers traced down his cheek, tilting his face upward. “There’s nothing wrong with living within your means. I didn’t choose you expecting a big, glittery rock, hon. In fact, I’m touched that you want to do what you can. Just let me find a few prospects, and we’ll head out. We can get dinner afterward.”

“That sounds awesome.” This time, he couldn’t contain himself, and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her with the tenderness and longing he’d been repressing for weeks.

Her lips were so soft, pillowy against his, and she knotted her fingers in his hair, pressing closer even as their tongues tangled. His emotions swelled, baffling and complicated; this wasn’t supposed to be real-real, but the further they went with this, the more hefelt.

“Mmm. You’re a good kisser. Can we do that more once we’re married?”

He laughed softly. “You want more of me?”

“Definitely. Let’s get moving, unless you need a nap?”

“Thishasbeen a lot more exciting than I’m used to, but I’m enjoying the journey. Let’s get a rideshare and paint the town pink.”

Leanne cast him a smiling glance over one shoulder. She probably didn’t mean for it be so seductive, but his heart still skipped over it. Impossible not to react when a woman like this focused all her attention on him.

“Not red?” she teased.

He shook his head. “That’s such an aggressive color. Not the vibe we want for a whirlwind wedding weekend.”

“Are you commenting on my hair?”

Trev froze. He loved her hair, actually, and he hadn’t meant to make her feel bad with his random joke. It took confidence and commitment to look after and—

“Relax, I’m joking. I agree with you. It’s sort of a violent phrase. When I think of painting the town red, slasher movies come to mind.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and beckoned. “How do you feel about random facts?”

“Generally? I enjoy them,” he said, as they left the hotel room.

“There’s a fun story that people tell about how the phrase got started, likely inaccurate. They say ‘paint the town red’ comes from this British nobleman who loved a good prank. Apparently, he led his crew to paint a tollgate and several front doors…bright red.”

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