Every Witch Way But Wicked (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery) by Amanda M. Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

would cross over to deranged, and then I may be late for the bonfire tonight because Thistle would beat the crap out of me.
    “You’re nervous,” I finally said.
    “I am not nervous.”
    “Yes, you are.”
    “I am not.”
    “You are, too.”
    “This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Clove interrupted. “What can we do to help?”
    “Find me something that doesn’t make me look repulsive,” Thistle countered.
    “None of this makes you look repulsive,” Clove said kindly, glancing down at the skirt in her hand. “Although, this skirt does make you look hippy.”
    “Way to help,” I shot back at Clove.
    Clove shrugged helplessly.
    I blew out a sigh and got to my feet. “Let’s approach this one step at a time. First off, we need to settle on an outfit. If Marcus shows up and you’re wearing that he’ll pass out before you even leave the house.”
    Thistle glanced down at her black boyfriend underwear and the matching pushup bra. “You’re probably right.”
    “I know I’m right. Nice to see you put on your fancy underwear just in case, though.”
    Clove looked scandalized. “You’re not planning on sleeping with him on the first date, are you?”
    “Of course not,” Thistle shot back. “And these are not my fancy underwear.”
    “Of course they are,” I challenged her. “They make your butt look thinner. I have the same pair. I’m not stupid.”
    Thistle’s cheeks flooded with color. “I’m not planning on sleeping with him,” she repeated.
    “I know,” I said encouragingly. “It never hurts to be prepared, though.”
    “Isn’t that the truth,” Clove said. “I knew you shaved your legs this morning for a reason.”
    I sorted through the pile of clothes on the couch for a minute and then turned to Thistle. “I don’t think you should wear a skirt,” I said honestly.
    “Why not?”
    “You’re going to a bonfire,” I pointed out.
    “So?”
    “You’re going to be sitting on bales of hay,” I tried again.
    “So?”
    “So, you don’t want straw to poke you in your . . . you know . . . hoo-ha,” Clove supplied.
    Thistle and I both swung on Clove. “Her hoo-ha?”
    “If you’re going to call it that, you’re never going to get laid,” Thistle grumbled dismissively.
    After helping Thistle pick out her most flattering jeans and pairing them with a sparkly tank top and her cutest Madden boots, Clove tackled Thistle’s hair while I started applying her makeup.
    When we were done, we stepped back to admire our handiwork. She did look fabulous, if I did say so myself.
    Thistle regarded herself in the mirror and blew out a sigh. “Do I look okay?”
    “You look great,” Clove said earnestly.
    “You do,” I agreed.
    Thistle still looked doubtful, but the fight had left her. “Do you think Marcus will like it, though?”
    “You really like him,” I laughed.
    “He’s just a guy,” Thistle protested.
    “If he was just a guy, you wouldn’t have changed after work,” I pointed out.
    “Stop talking to me,” Thistle said. “I need to think.”
    I left Clove to calm Thistle down and changed into a pair of jeans and a flattering vee-neck shirt. I grabbed my Harry Potter hoodie before leaving the guesthouse. I figured Clove’s more even nature would help calm Thistle down before Marcus got there.
    When I opened the door, though, I slammed into Marcus’ broad chest and found myself rethinking my previous assertion. “Hey,” he greeted me in surprise.
    “Hi Marcus,” I said a little too loudly. “You’re right on time.” Promptness is a great trait to possess – except when your date is freaking out thirty feet away.
    “I thought that was a good thing?” Marcus looked confused.
    “It is,” I scrambled to keep him involved in conversation and away from the threshold to the guesthouse.
    I could see Thistle and Clove manically gathering all the discarded clothes in the reflection on the front window. I grimaced when I saw them toss the clothes into my room instead