Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
“Thanks.” I flip the lid open and strings of holographic paper flutter to the floor. “Ooops.” I lean over to scoop up the rogue packing material, crunching it in my hand. A black velvet pouch is nestled in the center of all the sparkly paper. “What is it?”
“Open.” Logan’s keen eyes focus on the box as if he’s just as excited to see what it is as I am.
Everything looks so pretty, I hate to disturb it, but I carefully lift the silky-soft pouch. It’s heavy and neatly cinched together. My fingers detect a rectangular box inside the fabric. Excitement flutters in my belly. Is it a new deck of Tarot cards?
“Oh my goodness,” I whisper, setting everything on the counter and unlacing the pouch.
Yup, it’s cards. I pull out the sleek, matte black box. Under my fingertips it’s smooth and feathery. Luna Tarot is embossed in thick, glossy letters on the top.
Gripping the box, I carefully pry it open. A chunky black booklet is nestled on top of a deck of cards wrapped in clear plastic. “It’s so pretty. I almost don’t want to open it and wreck ’em.”
“They’re cards. You’re supposed to use them,” Logan says.
Using my thumbnail, I slice through the thin, crinkly plastic and unwrap the deck. The cards flow into my hands like silk. The backs are made of the same smooth, buttery texture as the box but with raised glossy bumps. I squint and realize a star and galaxy pattern covers the backs of the cards. “They’re so pretty.” Of all the Tarot decks I’ve looked at, I’ve never seen any like these.
Logan’s big, warm hand closes around mine. “The galaxy print reminded me of laying out under the stars with you,” he says in a quiet voice full of the warmth of a fond memory.
Love and emotion tie my throat in knots. “They’re beautiful. I love ’em.”
He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You really like them?”
“Yes.” My lips curve up. “In fact, I think they’ll go nicely with the costume I’m planning to wear to the club’s Halloween party.”
One corner of his mouth twitches downward, like maybe he’s disappointed? I glance at the cards again. They’re fancy. Beautiful little pieces of artwork. Probably expensive. Too nice to take to a party where they could get easily damaged.
I shuffle through the deck again. “Or maybe not. They’re too pretty to risk ruining at one of the club’s wild parties. I have an old deck I’ll bring.”
Relief seems to lift his expression. “Does that mean I finally find out what you’re going to dress up as for Halloween?”
I hold up the cards, fanning them into a pretty half-circle. “A fortune teller, of course.”
Rooster
“Fortune teller, huh? What’s my fortune?” I ask Shelby.
She leans up and hugs me. “Lots and lots of kissin’ from your fiancée in your immediate and distant future.”
“I’ll take it.” I lean down and rub my nose against hers. Her lips slide against mine, soft and feathery.
“Rooster! The fuck!?” Jiggy yells.
“Sheesh.” Shelby shakes her head. “Better go. I don’t want him accidentally hangin’ himself from a dang tree while puttin’ up those Halloween lights.”
“He’s not that fucking dumb.” I think better of it and add, “I hope.”
She laughs and pats my stomach. “I’m gonna call my momma and tell her about my pretty new cards, then start dinner. You see the size of that box he’s got out there? You’re gonna work up an appetite.”
“Tell Lynn I said hi.”
“Will do.”
Outside, Jiggy is indeed wrapped up in a ball of tangled string lights. “Good thing I came out here.” I gesture to the lights. “Shelby was afraid you might hang yourself with them, but I told her, ‘nah, he can’t possibly be that stupid.’”
“Joke’s on you, motherclucker.” He slips his arm out of one coil of lights and holds up what looks like a black plastic spear. “They’re solar lights. I’m staking them in the ground not hanging them in the air.”
“You gotta wrap ’em around something, no?”
“Yeah, but not my neck.”
“Is it my imagination or do you get more annoying every year.”
“Definitely your imagination.” He smirks and shoves the plastic stake into another flat plastic piece.
An hour later, the maple trees in the front yard each have either an orange or purple strand of lights wrapped around its base. It’s a little sloppy but the lights are a pain in the ass to work with, so I’m not doing it again.
“What’s next?” I ask.
“Some lights on the porch railing,” he says, as if it should be obvious.
He stops to check his phone and grins. Not his usual demented smile designed to make people piss their pants. The genuine one he reserves for those he trusts and actually gives a shit about. It’s the only reason I don’t hassle him for fucking around on his phone instead of helping me finish the stupid decorations he insisted on scattering around my front yard.