100% That Witch - Celia Kyle Page 0,22

three more bunnies were huddled around her feet.

Dammit!

“They might not follow Rhys into work,” Duval said with a grin, tugging at the collar of his cape, “but they sure have followed you here.”

The moment he peered under the table at the clutch of rabbits, the little critters scattered, hopping around as if they were as drunk with excitement as Tiffany was.

“Sorry.” She furrowed her brow and focused. One deep breath later and the bunnies started popping out of existence, leaving a puff of pink smoke behind. “I can’t help it. I’m just so happy to be here.”

Rhys looked down at his plate as she said it, his pale cheeks turning red, and her heart started beating a little faster. It was cute. She didn’t expect Rhys to be this shy around his parents.

At the far end of the table, Wisteria and Thersites exchanged a pointed look. They were communicating in that telepathic manner every couple seemed capable of, and Tiffany was pretty sure they were silently approving their son’s taste in women. Sure, Tiffany was an odd choice for a serious-looking necromancer, but she figured that was part of her charm.

By the time they were done with dinner, Tiffany had already labeled the night as a major victory. Rhys’s brothers had exchanged knowing glances all night long— probably excited their brother was finally settling down—and his parents had made it clear they approved of her. After all, why would Wisteria ask her so many questions?

Yes, the night had been a success.

“Thank you so much for a lovely evening,” Tiffany said, following Rhys’s mother as she led her to the door. Rhys and the rest of his family stayed behind in the dining room, but Tiffany tried not to read too much into it. Hopefully they were talking her up.

Likely, Wisteria wanted to have a word with her, now that Tiffany had been welcomed into the family. It was unfortunate she wouldn’t be able to give Rhys a proper goodnight kiss, but there’d be time for that later.

“It was a pleasure having you over,” Wisteria said, opening the door for her guest.

Tiffany stepped outside, but instead of leaving, she turned around and waited for Wisteria to say something wise and profound, something that would cement Tiffany’s status as an honorary member of the Rhonelle family. When Wisteria only gave her a bland look, Tiffany let out another nervous chuckle.

“About the bunnies...”

She wrapped her arms around her torso as if cradling an imaginary swaddle of them. A second later she felt a fuzzy nose poking between her forearms. A pink bunny hopped out of her arms and into Wisteria’s. The woman’s eyes widened as she looked down at the furry creature nuzzling her.

“I didn’t think to bring you a hostess gift, and you seemed interested in them…”

“That’s so, um…” Wisteria focused on the droopy-eared bunny in her arms, and then cleared her throat. “Nice. Uh, thank you, Tiffany. Have a good night.”

She bent over, set the bunny at Tiffany’s feet, and then started closing the door. Tiffany kept smiling at her until the door finally snapped shut. When it did, the bunny disappeared in a puff.

On the drive home, she could barely contain her excitement. She cranked up the music, sang as loudly as she could, and grinned until her cheeks hurt from the effort. The night couldn’t have gone any better. Sure, she’d barely talked to Rhys—who, strangely, had been seated across from her instead of next to her—and his parents had been lukewarm, but this was her first visit. Soon enough, she’d be invited again, and things would just keep getting better.

She made the drive back to Hollow House in a daze, barely capable of focusing on the road as she imagined her future life with Rhys. What would their kids look like? And how many would they have? They’d be a cute bunch. Rhys’s dashing good looks would certainly ensure it. Hopefully they would inherit his natural dark features and not her dyed light brown hair and hazel eyes.

Making her way past the kitchen, she spotted Nathan sitting at the table. She stopped, poked her head into the room, and found he was sitting there with Nero. Between them sat a bottle of scotch.

“How was dinner?” Nathan asked, scratching at his naked chest. It didn’t matter if it was night or day—the man had made a vow against covering himself, and he was a zealot about it.

“Have fun?” Nero wore his typical serene expression, but Tiffany could have sworn