Read Witchdependence Day: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Shorts Book 8) for Free Online

don’t want you to trip.”
    “You’re such a strong protector,” Thistle teased, beginning her ascent. I knew she was bargaining for time because she didn’t want to answer the question.
    “Tell me what you thought of me,” I prodded. “I can take it.”
    “Well, if you must know, I thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever met,” Thistle admitted.
    Unabashed love washed over me. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
    “I also thought you were kind of a goof.”
    “That’s … fine,” I said, frowning. “How was I a goof?”
    “You just kept tripping over yourself whenever I came into the stable to buy feed for animals we didn’t have,” Thistle replied, cresting the top of the ladder and disappearing from view. “I thought maybe you were a little slow or something.”
    I chuckled, memories of our first few meetings pushing to the forefront. “That’s because I was nervous,” I explained, handing her the stuffed dog as I finished my climb. “I knew I liked you, but I was completely out of my element. I wanted to ask you out but was afraid you would turn me down.”
    “I didn’t turn you down.”
    “No, but I thought you might,” I said, rubbing my finger over her forehead. The moon, which was almost completely obscured by the incoming storm clouds, managed to cast a green pall over her face, giving her an unearthly appeal. “I thought you were bohemian, brilliant and utterly terrifying.”
    “I am,” Thistle said, grinning. “What do you think about me now?”
    “I’m pretty sure the sun rises and sets on your smile.”
    “Ugh. You’re so romantic it kills me,” Thistle groused.
    “You haven’t seen anything yet,” I teased, planting a soft kiss on her mouth before turning to study the stack of blankets. “We should get everything ready before the storm hits. Then you can tell me about your decorating plans while we wait.”
    “That sounds like a plan,” Thistle said, happily grabbing a blanket and shaking it out. I grabbed one end and she took the other, following the effort with two more blankets before grabbing a fourth to cover us.
    “That’s weird,” Thistle said, scanning the darkening loft. “I could’ve sworn I brought another blanket.”
    I followed her gaze but came up short. “I don’t see one. Are you sure?”
    “I … .” Thistle snapped her mouth shut and shrugged. “I guess not. I probably left it on the couch back at the guesthouse. It’s okay. We should be plenty comfortable.”
    We settled under the blanket, Thistle grabbing her catalog and resting her head on my shoulder as she got comfortable.
    “I can’t really see that catalog,” I said. “It’s too dark.”
    “That’s okay. I can show it to you in the morning.”
    Thistle gets a bad rap from her family for being difficult to deal with. That’s only true when she’s around them. When she’s around me, I never have issues.
    “Tell me about your decorating plans,” I prodded, tracing lazy circles on the back of her neck as she got comfortable. “What do you want to do with this place?”
    “I’m a little worried you’re going to think I’m taking over your project,” Thistle admitted. “If I overstep my bounds, you need to tell me.”
    “I’ll tell you,” I said. “I still want to hear what you have in mind. You have a knack for this sort of thing.”
    “I do,” Thistle agreed. Her ego was big, and sometimes out of control, but she could almost always back it up. “I was thinking you could expand to the front and back, and put display windows in the front. You have a lot of old riding tack, and we could set it up in scary scenes, as if we have ghost cowboys.”
    I chuckled, delighted with the idea. “How would we do that?”
    “Oh, I can rig it with wire and paint really cool backdrops,” Thistle offered. “No one would be able to see the wires and we could change out the backdrops every four months or so. We could do a different one for