Witchdependence Day: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Shorts Book 8) by Amanda M. Lee Page A

because Thistle and Bay get mean,” I admitted. “Sam takes it in stride and bolsters her confidence.”
    “They are mean little cusses sometimes,” Landon said, smirking. “I think your foot is going to be fine. If you’re really worried, though, you should see a doctor.”
    “I thought you were my doctor,” I teased.
    “I don’t care what you do, Bay and I are not playing nursemaid,” Thistle said, popping around the side of the guesthouse and fixing us with a curious look. Landon instinctively snatched his hand away from my foot, and for a reason I couldn’t fathom, my cheeks burned. “Do you want to tell me what you two are doing?”
    “I … Marcus stubbed his toe the other night and he wanted to make sure it wasn’t serious,” Landon explained.
    “Uh-huh.” Thistle arched an eyebrow as she locked gazes with me. “Do I have to be worried about this little relationship?”
    Landon and I shot her twin scowls of mortification. “No.”
    “What’s going on?” Bay asked, exiting the guesthouse and pulling up short when she saw us sitting together on the patio. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
    “Landon and Marcus are playing doctor,” Thistle said, her eyes sparkling. “I think my heart may break.”
    “We’re not playing doctor,” Landon snapped, brushing the seat of his cargo shorts off as he stood. “Don’t be gross.”
    “It’s okay,” Thistle said, her expression earnest. “We’ll cry a little bit, but we truly wish you the best.”
    Bay giggled. “I don’t wish you the best. I can’t fight it, though. Follow your hearts.”
    “You’re in trouble,” Landon said, grabbing her around the waist and swinging her in the air. “You’re not funny.”
    “Is there something seriously wrong with your foot?” Thistle asked, turning sober as she knelt down. “Does that hurt?”
    “Some,” I replied, refusing to admit I was in agony whenever I stepped wrong on it. I was too much of a tough guy for that. “Landon says the skin isn’t torn, though, and it’s not infected.”
    “Is it broken?”
    I shook my head. “I stubbed it when I was looking for you the other night,” I replied. “It will be fine in a few days. There’s nothing to worry about.”
    “I’m not worried,” Thistle said. “I think you might be, though. We can have Winnie look at it. She should be able to give you a healing poultice.”
    “I’m fine,” I said, tugging my sock over my foot and then gingerly pulling my tennis shoe on before climbing to my feet. “I’m perfect. See.”
    “You are perfect,” Thistle agreed, squeezing my hand. “I still think we should have that looked at just to be on the safe side.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Oh, let her play nurse, man,” Landon said. “She might put on an outfit or something.”
    “You really are a pervert,” Thistle said, flicking the spot between Landon’s eyebrows and causing him to growl. “Aunt Tillie says you’re all hormones and hunger. I’m starting to think she might be right.”
    “I’m also manly and strong,” Landon said. “Don’t ever forget that.”
    “How could we?” Thistle teased. “You tell us every day we’re together.”
    “You know what? You’re on my list today,” Landon said, grabbing Bay’s hand and turning her toward the inn. “Let’s get breakfast. I’m starving.”
    “I’m starving, too,” Bay said. “Dinner last night was terrible. I hope breakfast is better.”
    “It won’t be if Winnie is still stewing,” Thistle said, falling into step next to me and slipping her finger through my belt loop to stay close. I’m not big on grand romantic pronouncements. Thistle isn’t either. The little things she does to show her affection get me every time, though. “I hope Marnie and Mom cooked breakfast if Winnie is still in a funk.”
    “No one had better burned my bacon,” Landon said. “I’m going to join Aunt Tillie’s ‘end of the world’ prediction bandwagon if my bacon is bad.”
    “You’re