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

guests who overheard the pronouncement as they passed the picnic table.
    This is also a group of women – and a few men – who might know each other a little too well. There’s absolutely no button they won’t push.
    “Who wants something to drink?” I asked, hoping to shift the conversation.
    No one answered.
    “Who wants family dinner to be over with?” Aunt Tillie asked, mimicking my voice.
    Everyone’s hands shot up in unison.
    Okay, I love them. They’re all major jerks sometimes, though.

    “ I THINK we should play some games,” Landon said a few hours later, leading the way through the festival. “I want to win Bay a stuffed animal.”
    “Oh, how cute,” Thistle enthused, sarcasm practically dripping from her tongue. “Bay finally found a boyfriend to win her stuff at a carnival. She only started dreaming about that when she was a fourteen, and now she’s finally gotten her wish.”
    “Stop being a pain,” I instructed, tugging on Thistle’s hand to make sure I drew her attention. I’m not big on shouting. I’ve found being the quiet one in the Winchester world has its benefits. People have to strain to hear me, and I like that. “I think it’s cute.”
    “I think it’s cute, too,” Clove said. “I want Sam to win me a stuffed animal so I can start a collection.”
    Sam looked uncomfortable with the suggestion. “Um … I’ve never been great at these games.”
    Thistle snorted. “All carnival games are rigged,” she said. “No one is good at the games here. Don’t feel bad. You’re not meant to win. No one wins.”
    “I’m good at them,” Landon argued. “I always win Bay something.”
    “Oh, you’re so cute I want to gag,” Thistle said.
    Okay, it was time to take her ego down a notch or two. “I didn’t hear you complaining when I won you that stuffed cat at the spring festival,” I pointed out.
    Thistle’s cheeks turned crimson as Clove and Bay jerked their heads in her direction.
    “Oh, really?” Bay looked intrigued – and like the shark in Jaws when it was about to eat someone while they were still alive and screaming. “What did this cat look like? It didn’t happen to be orange with black stripes, did it?”
    “And now goes by the unfortunate name of Mr. Whiskers?” Clove added.
    “Who told you I named it that?” Thistle asked, mortified. “Did you tell them I named it that, Marcus?”
    I held my hands up in a placating manner. “I didn’t tell anyone about the cat.”
    “No, you just ratted me out in front of my cousins,” Thistle grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where’s the loyalty?”
    “You love that cat and you know it,” I said. “Bay loves the stuff Landon wins for her, too. There’s nothing wrong with it. And Sam, well … we’ll help Sam win something for Clove.”
    “Thanks, man,” Sam deadpanned. “I’ll win Clove something on my own. I’m sure I can be a very effective carnival … game thingy … winner.”
    “Yes, you’re going to terrify everyone when you play a game thingy,” Landon teased. I searched his face for signs of distaste, but Landon’s previous dislike of Sam appeared to be a thing of the past. I was glad for that. Clove clearly loved Sam, and he adored her. I wanted them to have some happiness, especially because Clove often gets shunted to the side thanks to Thistle and Bay’s louder personalities.
    “Let’s all win something,” Bay suggested, her eyes twinkling when they landed on Thistle. “I mean, the four of us, of course. Thistle is far too mature to watch Marcus win a stuffed animal for her.”
    I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing as I studied Thistle’s conflicted features.
    “I’m fine with that,” Thistle gritted out.
    “Great.” Bay turned to the game aisle and pointed. “Let’s do the balloon one first.”
    I purposely waited for Thistle to pick a pace and then fell into step next to her. I considered offering to win her a stuffed animal regardless, but