Page 22 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

I reached out and took it, my hand brushing his.

“What is this for?” I asked.

“Uh.” He scratched his stubbled jaw. “It’s a bouquet for you to look at? Have you never received flowers from anyone?”

“Why would you give someone flowers?” I asked. This was probably some human custom I’d never learned.

One of the blue flowers opened its petals to reveal a gel-like center. If one touched it, they’d get a horrible rash.

“Well, sometimes people like flowers.” Nevan eyed me like I was an enigma. “They like to put them in a vase somewhere they can admire them.”

I scoffed. Humans. Instead of enjoying nature and letting it be, they had to hack it to pieces and bring it inside so they could sit in their homes and never leave.

“Apparently, you are not one of those people,” Nevan mumbled. “I’m sorry. This was my attempt to show you that maybe courting me won’t be so bad. And I asked Fiona for her help.”

“That’s why she showed up unannounced this morning?”

He grimaced. “I asked her to keep you at your cottage, which she didn’t do. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have trusted a child with that task, but she’s the only one who’s not . . .” He pressed his lips together.

“Afraid of me?” I asked.

He winced. “Well, yes.”

A rainbow of colors burst from the bouquet. It was beautiful. I’d never arranged my flowers like this, put them all together and just stared at them. And despite the absurdity of it, knowing Nevan did this for me sent strange flutters through my stomach.

It was odd but sweet.

“Did any of them hurt you?” My eyes roamed his chest, shoulders, and arms, looking for any injuries and maybe taking note of all the sculpted muscles.

“That pink one tried to stab me, but for the most part, they behaved.” He rubbed his jaw again. “I just wanted to give you something beautiful to put in your cottage.”

I blinked, my brain stuck on that word. Beautiful. He’d just called my flowers, one of which had tried to stab him, beautiful. No one had ever used that word to describe my creations.

Monstrous. Abominable. Horrifying, maybe. Not beautiful.

“Okay.” I blew out a breath, unable to believe I was actually agreeing to this plan. This morning, I’d been set on leaving for the Otherworld, but between my memories of the marillian zealous, humans invading my bog, and this odd gesture from Nevan, I’d made a snap decision.

“Okay what?” Nevan asked, brows knitting.

“Okay.” I waved my hand. “I’ll do the whole fake courting thing.”

His mouth dropped open for a moment before he shut it. “Amazing. That’s amazing. You’re amazing. I mean . . . this is going to be . . .”

“Amazing?” My lips twitched, and I was dangerously close to smiling. “Are you sure about this? Instead of improving my reputation, this could just hurt yours.”

He flashed me a smile, dimples appearing in his cheeks, and for a moment, it took my breath away. “Impossible.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “I’m really, really likable.”

I huffed. “I don’t think you’re that likable.”

“Oh, you’ll see. By the end of this, you’ll have to resist falling for me.”

I narrowed my gaze at him. “Not a chance. You can’t even swim.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So that’s the standard? You’ll only fall for a man who can swim?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not above shoving you back into this bog.”

He just laughed, shoulders shaking.