Big Witch Energy - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,46
they say. But don’t worry. They also say size doesn’t matter.”
Ooh, a little snark. Is she getting me back for teasing her about the magic fails? I bite back a grin. “I hate it when people say ‘size doesn’t matter.’ It makes me feel as if I have this huge penis for nothing.”
She chokes on her champagne. “Trace!”
I shrug. “Just saying.”
“It’s not how big the house is, it’s how happy the home is.”
My lips twitch. She’s good. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
“Are we talking literal houses or figurative?”
“Both.”
Our eyes meet and hold in a challenge that sizzles with awareness.
Family. We’re here with family. That has to distract me from thinking about Romy naked in her bed and how happy I made her, uh, “home.” Stop it.
“You could use that as your business tag line.” Romy sips more wine.
“Except for the fact that it sounds dirty.”
“What? It’s not dirty at all. It’s just your filthy mind.”
“And the fact that we were talking about my huge cock.”
I think she shivers, but she tosses her hair back. “It’s not the size of the ship. It’s whether or not the captain stays in port long enough for all the passengers to get off.”
I burst out laughing, so loud I attract glances and amused smiles from the people around us, including Felise and Cam.
We shouldn’t be talking dirty and flirting like this. Definitely not. But hell, I’m having fun. Excitement fizzes in my veins like I just injected the champagne straight into them, and my cock is definitely growing huger by the moment.
And judging from the color in Romy’s cheeks and the glitter in her eyes, she’s feeling the same.
I’ve been feeling like resistance is futile. Like this was meant to be from the moment she walked up to my table at the Singing Horse, pretending to be someone else. That’s why we’re here.
Natalie and Jeff, my “cousins,” come up to us. “Hi!” Natalie says, opening her arms for hugs. She greets Romy the same. “So nice to see you again! How are things going? Are you settling into the Candler family?”
“I don’t think settling in is the right term,” Romy says. “I think I’m being assimilated.”
Natalie laughs. “I totally understand. So, Felise was telling us about the new designs you’re doing for their store.”
We chat about that, Natalie seeming impressed with Romy’s talents. Then Sofia approaches, another Candler cousin, with her kids Willow and Ruby.
“Twace!” Willow lifts up her arms when she sees me. “Up! Up!”
Grinning, I hand Romy my glass and pick up Willow, her poofy pink dress billowing around my arms. “Hello, beautiful. I love your dress.”
“Fank you.”
“Do you remember Romy?”
Willow turns to Romy solemnly. “No.”
Romy smiles. “That’s okay. Did your mom do your hair like that?”
It’s all up in complicated curls.
“No.” Willow shakes her head, the curls bobbing. “The haiwdwesser did it.”
“Ah. It’s gorgeous.”
“The girls all had a spa day,” Sofia says, her hands on Ruby’s shoulders. “We got our hair and nails done.”
“Your dress is the color of a ruby,” Romy says to Ruby.
“That’s my name!”
Romy grins. “Really?”
She knew that. I shoot her an appreciative glance.
“Your dress is wed too,” Willow says.
“It is.”
“Twace, I want some of dat.” Willow points at the glasses Romy’s holding.
“That’s for big girls,” I say.
“I am a big girl!”
“Okay, let’s go see.” With Willow on my hip, I hold out a hand to Ruby, and the three of us stroll over to the bar. They have apple juice, so I get the bartender to pour champagne flutes with half juice and half 7-Up, then hand one to each little girl.
They take delicate sips, clutching their wineglasses, and we make our way back to the others.
Sofia gives me a look.
“It’s fine,” I say.
“People will think I let my kids get drunk,” she mutters.
Romy crouches and does a little toast with the girls, gently tapping glasses, and they beam.
Soon we’re moving back into the ballroom for dinner, the chairs having been rearranged around round tables. Seating is assigned, and Romy and I find we’re seated together near the head table, with Joe and Cassie, Felise and Magan and their dates. Dean’s parents are next to us with some of his family.
“I didn’t know you’re so good with kids,” Romy murmurs to me, setting her napkin on her lap.
“I didn’t know you are.”
“I love kids. I never had much to do with them,” she says wistfully. “One more thing that was missing, with no family. That’s why I teach art classes at the gallery.”
“Well, you’ve got family now.”
She