Charlie
The morning sun streamed through the trees like something out of a fairytale, golden and gentle and absolutely mocking me.
“Okay,” I muttered, juggling the picnic basket, a blanket, and roughly seven pounds of nerves, “you’ve fought mermaids, lived through magical political drama, and survived Griffin’s cooking. You can do this.”
“Do what?” Noah asked from behind me, making me shriek and nearly launch a sandwich into orbit.
“DON’T SNEAK UP ON PEOPLE HOLDING SALAMI,” I hissed.
He raised his hands in mock surrender, eyes dancing. “Sorry, sorry. Just checking in on Operation: Fluster the Tall Broody One.”
“Spoil,” I corrected. “Operation: Spoil Apollo.”
“Uh-huh. You packed strawberries, a blanket, and something labeled ‘Liquid Courage.’ That’s not spoiling. That’s seduction wit
