27. Daisy

CHAPTER 27

Daisy

D aisy's eyes linger on Sloan's lips, perhaps a little too long. She keeps licking away drops of broth, and Daisy can't help but be captivated by the long stroke of her tongue as it slips along her soft lips. Her magic sparks inside, dancing and tugging her closer to Sloan, prompting her to do something to put them both out of this playful misery. Surely, Sloan must know what she is doing and how it impacts Daisy. She must be doing this purposefully, trying to entice Daisy by continually drawing her attention to her luscious mouth. Goddess, how Daisy wishes to taste her again.

"So, did you hear back from The Dandelion?" Sloan asks, drawing Daisy's attention back to their conversation.

Daisy blinks, bringing her eyes up to meet Sloan's, and chastises herself for losing focus. "Erm, yes. We've settled on a date three weeks from now, and they booked the entire property out to us for our event over the weekend."

"Three weeks? Will we have enough time to get the word out?"

"Oh, not to worry. Petra and Lachlan are helping to advertise," Daisy explains.

"And you're sure we can get a full booking? The Dandelion is expensive, and if we cater to the more disadvantaged or socially separated population, will they be able to afford it?"

"Again, not to worry. After some convincing, the council decided it would be in their best interest to fund the event." Daisy replies smugly.

"How did you convince them to do that?"

"I didn't," Daisy says, tilting her head down and looking at Sloan through her lashes. She catches Sloan's eyes lighting up, but the flash of fire vanishes as quickly as it appears. "I know you went to the council and convinced them."

Sloan blushes. "Petra told you?"

"Yeah." Daisy pauses. She lifts her head, gazing intently at Sloan. Maybe she's not quite as bad as she thought.

"It was only fitting that they fund the total weekend when we're only organizing this because of their misdeeds."

"Well, thank you."

Sloan smiles softly, then claps her hands together as she leans back into her seat. "So, what's next on the task list then? Who do I need to make calls to?"

"We still need decor for the mixer and a DJ on Saturday evening. Maybe some fun catering like food trucks or an ice cream truck?"

Sloan pulls out a tablet from her purse and begins taking notes. "I can do that. Do we have the full list of important attendees from the council?"

"We do. I can email it to you if you want to reach out to them."

"Great. I can draft up some invites tonight and forward them to you for approval before they get sent out."

"Wonderful. Otherwise, I thought there needed to be opportunities for people to connect, and we could use the resources on-site to help with that. We can organize a couple of different yoga classes, some hayrides, visits to the orchard, and so on. But I also want some freedom so that people can come and go and participate in other activities that can be offered rather than a strict itinerary."

"Like a painting or pottery class?" Sloan asks.

"Exactly. If we offer these little opportunities at a couple of different times, it gives people a chance to go when it feels right for them. I also think I don't want to limit this event to those strictly invited. Maybe an open-door Leeside? Where we can take the opportunity to explore Leeside in a different light and allow people who may never have had the chance to visit The Dandelion and other establishments the ability to."

Sloan writes down all of Daisy's thoughts nearly as fast as Daisy can say them. "Would you not be worried about it coming off as a ‘look at what you'll never have' type of experience?" she asks, her brow furrowed in thought.

"No, I think we can also use this as a wonderful chance to partner with other agencies in the community. It can help them see that these individuals who have been pushed aside for so long are no different from them and that they can be beneficial to each other."

"That's very optimistic of you. But I do fear that businesses would only see it as a chance to make more money from people who don't necessarily have it to give. In general, business owners are not known for their philanthropy."

"I get that, but I am trying to have more faith in people—as hard as it is."

Sloan looks up from her tablet to Daisy and smiles. Soft. Supportive. All for her. And fucking Hecate if it doesn't ignite her insides all over again.

Daisy readjusts her posture, trying to relieve some of the growing pressure in her core, but every movement creates friction, and her body wants to chase it. She needs to get out of here, away from Sloan before she pounces on her.

"I'm afraid I might be far too cynical for that. With everything I see in my work with businesses trying to do the bare minimum, I have difficulty trusting they would want to do any good."

"Perhaps you need to be shown how good it can be," Daisy responds suggestively. She didn't mean for it to come out as such, but she's also not sorry. Especially not as she watches Sloan's expression shift as the implied intent behind her words lands.

Sloan's eyebrows rocket upward as she inhales ever so slightly with surprise. Daisy's eyes soften as she gazes at Sloan, and she's overcome with the urge to kiss those beautiful apples on her cheeks.

"Perhaps," Sloan responds, letting the innuendo hang between them.

Daisy smirks, enjoying her effect on the witch in front of her. "Anyway, if we can finish these tasks by the end of the week, we will be in a good spot. I have a few businesses I have connections to, thanks to working at the Acorn, so I'm going to reach out to them, as well as some friends who would run the painting and so on."

Sloan swallows, regaining composure. "Sounds great. Should we reconvene on Saturday for another update?"

"That sounds good."

"Dinner?"

"Yes, that will work," she says, trying not to show how excited she is for more time with Sloan.

"Great. I'm going to go and get a little snack. Do you want anything?" Sloan asks.

"A coffee would be lovely. Black, please."

"One coffee coming right up," Sloan replies before walking toward the coffee booth in the corner.

Daisy watches her walk away. Sloan's hips sway effortlessly and seem to conduct their own music along the way, building tension in Daisy's core again as they rise and fall to an inaudible rhythm.

Get a grip! You're barely friends.

As painful as it is, Daisy forces herself to look away. She picks up her phone, checking for missed messages and absentmindedly scrolling through various apps, trying to keep her mind occupied. Unfortunately for her, her magic keeps tugging on this invisible thread connecting her to Sloan, telling her to look. Watch. Dream.

When she feels Sloan's presence again, a beautifully large and perfectly iced cupcake slides in front of her with her coffee. The cupcake is a vanilla rainbow sprinkle with a healthy swirl of strawberry icing and a cherry at its very apex. Daisy's eyes, of their own volition, swell with tears. She swallows while blinking rapidly and tilting her head back, trying to hold them back.

"Thank… Thank you," she squeaks.

Sloan sits opposite her, and their knees bump. The contact sends a spark up her leg to her core and a second one down to her toes, which involuntarily curl. Sloan leans forward to get a closer look. "Are you crying? Because of a cupcake?" she asks in disbelief.

Daisy picks up a napkin and wipes the stray tear at the corner of her eye. "It's so beautiful."

A joyous laugh escapes Sloan, and Daisy swears she has never heard a sound as sweet. It's honey to her ears. Smooth yet sticky, clinging to her in all the right places, filling her soul in ways she never thought possible.

"I used to get this as a child when I came here with my mother. I can only remember a handful of times we came, but every time I was allowed to choose a special treat, and every time it was this exact cupcake."

The memory doesn't sting like it usually does when she thinks of her mother. Moving about the world has been challenging these past few weeks, knowing her parents will never remember who she is or that she even exists. But Sloan's choice of the exact cupcake from her childhood is…comforting. It's as if Sloan brought her a slice of home she never knew she missed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. And how could you? I haven't talked about my family much, especially beyond what they are known for."

"I chose it because it made me think of you," Sloan says softly, eyes cast downward as if she is embarrassed.

Daisy wipes away a final tear at the corner of her eye. "It made you think of me?"

"Yes. It's bright and fun and unexpected. It looks like you but in cupcake form."

A laugh bubbles up and out of Daisy, surprising her and Sloan, causing the mood at the table to shift away from the momentary melancholy into lighter air. She's never thought of herself as bright and fun. Unexpected, yes, but not fun. If anything, she thinks of herself as a dark cloud hovering over everything she touches.

It's such a small thing that a cupcake made Sloan think of her, but it feels important. That it should matter to Daisy that Sloan is thinking of her when coming across random baked goods. Especially her favorite, cupcakes, and that she chose one with such a nostalgic connection. Daisy feels her heart opening up ever so slightly at this seemingly inconsequential gesture, making room for Sloan.