Page 63 of Stupid Matchmaking Love

I’m about to take her face in my hands when her eyes snap open.

“No,” she says, taking a step back.

I smirk. “What was all that about the last man on earth?”

Blood rushes to her cheeks. I’ve got blood rushing to parts of me, too, and right then and there, all of me wants her.

And from the way she whimpered, I know that all of her wants me, too.

Cristina gives me a good, long drink of a look, as if she’s weighing her options, wondering what she’ll lose if she gives in to me.

I’m not asking for much. Just one kiss.

She swallows and her gaze drops to her arms. There’s a slight hesitation to her, suggesting maybe I can get that kiss after all.

Testing the waters, I take a slight step toward her.

Her posture instantly shifts—shoulders tight, chin defiant, like she’s bracing for something that hurt her before.

Her voice comes out high and strained when she says, “Good night,” and closes her door.

Well, there went my good-night kiss. I’m probably the only contestant who hasn’t gotten one from his girl. Well, maybe other than Beau.

Better luck next time.

I’ve just pulled off my shirt when I hear Cristina yelp. I hesitate for half a second before I decide, Screw it.

When I enter her suite, Cristina’s on the floor, legs bent under her.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, squeezing her shoulder. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No.” She lifts a ball of fur from the floor. “Look. It just appeared.”

Sitting still in her hands is a long-haired rabbit with glossy black eyes. And jutting out from its forehead is a small golden horn.

Looks like the magic in Mystic Meadows has struck again.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I mutter. Why am I not surprised? This just confirmed everything I was thinking about the magic in this town. “Looks like we got ourselves our very first bunnicorn.”

Chapter 20

Cristina

We stop arguing as soon as he sees the bunnicorn. It’s like all the fight inside us just goes poof.

Bunnicorns will do that.

Nothing will make you feel more loved than cuddling a small, furry creature.

The bunny is white and brown, with long, soft fur. It’s also incredibly chill—lets me hold it like it was made for being loved by me.

Just like that Kiss song, “I Was Made for Lovin’ You.”

It also seems to have softened Rhett, because he immediately suggests we buy a cage, food, toys, and whatever else the creature might need. The bunnicorn sits on my lap as he drives us to the nearest pet store in town. Lucky for us, it stays open late, which gave me time to change out of my nightgown and into jeans.

“Where’d you find it?”

I rub the spot between the bunny’s eyes. “It just appeared.”