Buttercup (Spell Library #10) - Helen Scott Page 0,4

more like a squeak—probably from the smoke inhalation—as I looked over my shoulder at the guy Iris was talking about, before she marched us off to the coat room where she’d left her bag.

“You mean Logan?” I asked quietly. I knew I was blushing and probably looked the same color as some of the flowers and leaves on my dress, but I couldn't help it.

“Yup. Logan. The new bartender, right?” We stopped in front of the human who was in charge of watching the coat room contents. “Hi, could you please get both of our bags?” Iris asked as she handed him her ticket, and I did the same.

“Wh-what do you mean he was looking at me?” I whispered, stuttering slightly. “I’ve only talked to him a few times!”

Iris snorted and grinned at me once more. “So? He’d be a fool not to look at you like he was. Maybe you should let him ask you to dance.”

The human came back with both our bags, and we each took our respective purses.

“I...I guess I could try. I can’t dance very well. At all.” Like woah. I was bad. So bad that Bryce had refused to dance with me at some of our friends' weddings. Just the thought of it had panic clawing at my chest.

“Just cast a spell so you don’t step on anyone's toes. That should work, right? That dress needs to be seen on the floor. You need to be seen shaking your booty.” Iris pulled a book out of her bag and handed it to me. “This is a really great book. I thought you’d like it. I just finished it. It's got everything we girlies love. Comedy, despair, sex, violence, sex, and explosions.”

I wanted to giggle at my friend's enthusiasm for a book that I never would have touched on my own. “I’m pretty sure several of those are just what you love.”

Iris just shrugged good naturedly as I took the book. I ran my fingers down the spine. “C.C. Pine. I’ve never heard of them.” I slipped the book into my bag before exchanging it again with the human for a ticket.

“That might be their first book, but I promise you, it’s worth the read,” Iris gushed.

When we got back into the party room, the music had kicked up into a fast Latin beat. Several couples were doing the tango.

Logan came up to us. He was looking fine, like F.I.N.E. in his dark slacks with his sleeves of his black shirt—which was covered with a print of succulents—rolled up to his elbows that showed off his tattoos. I had always suspected that he might be tattooed all over, and the skin that was revealed only furthered my theory. He had a strong chiseled face with a high forehead. His hair was shaved on both sides with the top set up so it looked kind of spiky and punkish. The tips were a dark red. He had gauge ears with plugs that were fairly big but fit his face.

Iris winked at me and gave me a push toward him before she disappeared, leaving me wing-womanless.

"Hey, how's the shop?" he asked.

"It survived, but I don't think the oven did, and I can't get anyone to come out and look at it until next week. It's okay, I'll just have to run with a slightly limited menu," I said as I looked up into his hazel eyes. I had the dumbest urge to twist a strand of my hair around my finger like a kid, which precisely described how Logan made me feel, like a high schooler or college kid again.

"Anything I can do to help?" he asked, his eyebrows pinching together as he spoke.

"Have a drink with me?" The words almost sounded like I'd blurred them all together, but it was the only way I could get them out.

"Only if you'll dance with me afterward," he replied, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"It's a d-eal, but I should warn you I'm a terrible dancer." I'd almost said it's a date. Embarrassment made my cheeks flush as we walked over to the bar area that had been set up in the corner of the room. It was about as far away from the split between the human side of the event and the supe side as possible so there was no chance of a human doing something like ordering a Bloody Mary and getting it with extra blood.

Once we had our drinks I asked, "Is it nice being on