“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Dragging a hand over my mouth to wipe the smile off my face, I clear my throat and try to keep the humor out of my voice. “Maybe take out the piercings.”

There’s a second where I can see her contemplating a dozen ways to tell me off, but she thinks better of it and relents. Taking out the thin rings in her nose and left eyebrow, then the numerous ones decorating her earlobes and cartilage, she drops them all in a paper cup.

Instead of her usual bold makeup style, she did a great job emulating the picture we printed off as a reference. It’s been years since I’ve seen her so fresh-faced and innocent. With the wig, accessories, and the pale blue ballgown, it’s really quite the transformation.

“I still look ridiculous.”

“No, you don’t, Tink.” Moving in behind her, I place my hands on her shoulders and give them a reassuring squeeze through the puffy sleeves. “You look like Cinderella.”

She gives me a disgusted glare in the full-length mirror. “Really? Because I don’t remember any mention of Prince Charming being attracted to Cinderella’s punk edge.”

“Then you’re Tinkerella. The white glove covers up most of your ink and who cares about what’s showing. You’re like a coloring book. I bet the kids will get a kick out of it.”

She sighs and tugs the gloves up as high as they’ll go. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Correction, sprite.” I turn her to face me and point an accusing finger back at her. “You agreed to repay the favor you owed Wendy.”

“From when we were kids.” Crossing her arms, she sits in a huff on the hospital bed, a sea of blue poofy stuff practically swallowing her whole.

“You didn’t put an expiration date on it.”

“So she sent you to collect, couldn’t even do it herself.”

“Wrong. It was my idea to talk to you, not hers. She’s not the type to ask for help, especially from a girl who’s anything but friendly toward her. You still could’ve said no.”

“I never welch on a debt, and I don’t like them hanging over my head, either.” Tink fidgets with the black velvet choker around her neck. “Plus, I couldn’t stand the thought of a bunch of sick kids being disappointed.”

“That’s my point, sprite. You can act like a badass fairy all you want, but underneath all that armor, you’ve got a soft heart.” She drops her eyes to her gloved hands in her lap, but I lift her chin. “It’s okay, you know. To care about people outside our family.”

“Our family is all we have, Peter. It’s always been us against the world.”

“That’s true,” I say with a nod. “But it doesn’t have to be that way forever. I know it’s scary to let outsiders in. But if we don’t give them a chance, we’ll only ever have each other.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“Nothing’s bad about it, Tink. Having each other is a great thing—it’s been everything—but what if we could make it even better?” I lower myself into the visitor’s chair by the door and think about the images of a future I’ve imagined in my quietest moments. “Picture our family as it is now, but only bigger, with more people who love us and we love back. And who knows, maybe eventually, we’ll have a bunch of Lost rugrats running around the farm.”

“What?”

The look of sheer horror on her face is enough to make me burst out laughing, which is when our hostess for the afternoon bustles into the room like her dress is on fire. Speaking of her dress: short-sleeved and white, it fits her up top, flares at her waist, and ends above her knees. She looks like the angel she is to me, and all I want to do is wrap my hand in her long braid, pull her close, and show her how to sin. Not the time or the place, asshole.

“Okay, everyone is ready in the activity room so it’s time— Oh, Tink,” Wendy says with a soft inhale. “You look absolutely perfect. Seriously, thank you so much for doing this.”

Tink gets to her feet and smooths the huge skirt into place. “Yeah, well, these kids have enough problems. A flaky princess shouldn’t be one of them.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Wendy says with a small smile, hugging her clipboard to her chest.

“Plus,” Tink adds, “this makes us square.”

Wendy shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

“A long time ago I told you I owed you a favor.” Wendy’s eyes widen as she remembers how our night of playing Ghost in the Graveyard ended. Tink doesn’t give her time to rehash any specifics. “Since I don’t usually spend my time walking around as a Disney character, this is me doing you that favor. That makes us square. Got it?”

Wendy nods. “Absolutely. Totally square.”

Getting to my feet, I rub my hands together and grin. “Let’s get this party started, ladies. Remember, Tink, you’re a sugary-sweet princess now, not a foul-mouthed mechanic.”

She gives me a sarcastically sweet smile and flips me off as she passes. I laugh and take Wendy’s hand to follow her down the hall.

“Peter,” she says softly. “She’ll be okay, right? With the kids, I mean?”

“Trust me, Wen. It’s going to be fine.” I cross the fingers of my free hand just in case.

Tink stops in front of the doors to the room to wait for her cue while Wendy and I go on ahead. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I never would’ve imagined what I see as the doors swing closed behind us.

Chandeliers made from white Christmas lights and gold tinsel hang from the ceiling, along with blue balloons dipped in gold glitter and yards of blue netting billowing out from the center to the walls and down to the floor.

A gold-painted cardboard grandfather clock reads a couple minutes to twelve and a huge cutout of a pumpkin carriage is set up in the corner with two Merry-Go-Round horses.

A couple dozen kids are talking animatedly with each other and the nurses. Some are wearing only tiaras or top hats with their pajamas while others are in full princess or prince costumes, but all of them are practically vibrating with excitement.

And my girl is no different, the way she’s beaming with pride. “Welcome to the ball, Peter.”

“Wen, this is… This is really amazing what you did.”

One little girl notices us standing by the doors and squeals. “Miss Darling, is she here? Did you bring her?”

The kids turn into a bunch of chatterboxes, all talking over each other, but Wendy regains their attention with a single question. “Who’s ready to meet Cinderella?”

Their answering shouts are loud enough to be heard in Australia, so thankfully, Wendy doesn’t make them wait any longer. She pulls the door open and in sweeps Tink. Actually, it’s less of a sweep than a few hesitant steps inside the room. The tiny humans who aren’t tethered by IV bags or other equipment rush up to her like teens backstage at a boy band concert. Her eyes open wide, and she pulls her hands up by her shoulders as they swarm around her, making her look even more like a demure princess.

From the corner of my eye, I notice Wendy draw in a deep breath and hold it. I give her hand a squeeze and hope my instincts were right about this, about Tink. It only takes her a few seconds to regroup, then little by little, she relaxes and starts interacting with the kids. And it’s only a minute later that Tink lights up with the biggest smile and starts hugging the little princes and princesses before making her way around the room to the ones who can’t come to her.

Tink gives every child individual attention—commenting on how wonderful they look, asking their names, and sometimes dancing with them to the soft classical music coming from a hidden speaker.

“She’s amazing, Peter. The kids are completely infatuated with her.”

I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I never had any doubt.”

Looking up at me, she raises her eyebrows. “None?”

I grin and hold my thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Almost none.”

She chuckles and leans into my half-embrace before leaving me to go wrangle the kids for pictures with the princess in front of her carriage. Everything was going great until one of the little girls lifted up Tink’s dress and gasped.

“Where are your glass slippers?”

The entire room stops what they’re doing to stare at her black boots that were hiding under all that poof. Well, shit. I guess you can take the Tink out of the mechanic shop, but… Covering my mouth to muffle my laughter, I wait and see how she’s going to get herself out of this one.

“Well, um… My glass slippers are…uh…”

“Extremely uncomfortable, so I told her to wear whatever she wants.”

A little girl wearing a yellow dress squeals and points to the man who just arrived wearing a princely white and red uniform trimmed in gold. “Prince Charming is heeeeeeere!”

The buzz of excitement over a new character come to life is contagious, spreading from one kid to the next. All the nurses giggle and whisper to each other, their eyes tracking his every move as he crosses the room. Even Tink—the least girlish-acting girl in this place, despite her current attire—is blushing like crazy. But I’ve never seen Tink swoon over anyone before, so that could be the embarrassment over her boots.

The prince speaks quietly to Wendy who’s smiling from ear to ear. Then he touches her arm, and I’m on the move. Before I get to them, he joins Tink in front of her cardboard carriage, bowing low to her and kissing her gloved hand as she does her best to curtsy.

“What was all that about?” I ask Wendy, failing at sounding casual.

“What do you mean?” She doesn’t even look at me. Apparently, Prince Charming is hard for a girl to tear her eyes from.

Screw casual. I cross my arms, hoping it makes me look less like I’m pouting and more like a tough guy protecting his territory. “The flirty stuff between you and that prince guy.”

That’s when her head snaps up, and she locks eyes with me. “Flirty stuff? With Michael?”

“Michael?” I study him again and try to picture a little kid with sandy blond hair and chubby cheeks, but I don’t see it. What I remember of Wendy’s baby brother is hard to reconcile against this tall, dark-haired man with chiseled features. “That,” I say, nodding toward the man talking to the children with Tinker Bell’s hand tucked into his arm, “is your brother?”

“In the flesh. He had something come up earlier and wasn’t sure if he’d make it, so I didn’t want to mention it to the kids. Michael is the new social worker of the pediatric department, and he’s also the director of Lost Ones of London.”

“Isn’t he a little young for all of that?”

She nods. “Only twenty-three, but my baby brother is a bit of a genius. He graduated high school a year early then went to college and finished his master’s in social work at twenty-one.”

“Wait.” I try to remember something she said on that first day… “Michael is the guy who convinced the board to combine the charities for the event?”

“Yes, and he’s the one who told me about the event coordinator opening. But he didn’t have any say in that. I got the job on my own merit, in case you were wondering.”

“Come on, Wen, I would never think that. You’re not the type to ride anyone’s coattails.”

“Thank you for that,” she says. “Not everyone thinks that way, though. That’s why it’s so important to me that I nail this event.”

“You will, don’t worry.” I take another look at the man who was the youngest of our group, even if he was only an honorary Lost Boy we saw on occasion. “So that’s Michael. I’m still not seeing it.”

“You’d probably recognize John a bit easier, but Michael was only thirteen when I left home,” she says. “Plus, he used temporary hair dye for his part today. I told him he didn’t have to go that far, but he insisted that the kids get an accurate Prince Charming.”

“Doesn’t seem like he has any issues with his less-than-accurate Cinderella.”

Wendy follows my gaze and grins. “I wonder if he knows it’s her. Michael had a huge crush on Tink when they were kids, but she’s only ever had eyes for you.”

“What? No, she hasn’t.”

Turning, she looks at me incredulously. “Peter, you’re kidding, right? It’s obvious she has feelings for you. Why do you think she hates me so much?”

I arch one of my eyebrows. “Because she doesn’t like mother figures, and she liked being the only girl in our group. She’s got a good heart, but she has a serious aversion to outsiders.”

“Uh huh,” she says with more sarcasm than I like. “And she still hates me because…”

I cross my arms, a pillar of strength and rightness. “Because of that last thing.”

“About outsiders.”

“Yes,” I reiterate. “Outsiders.”

“Okay, we’ll go with that, then.”

Finally she relents, but the fact that she’s biting on her lip to keep from smiling is a dead giveaway that she doesn’t actually believe me. Am I wrong? Tink’s never said anything that would make me think she has feelings for me.

Michael’s leading Tink in a dance around the middle of the pretend ballroom. I can’t hear what he’s saying to her, but she’s staring up at him, smiling and even laughing. That is what a girl looks like when she’s into someone.

Most of the time Tink is sassing me, rolling her eyes, or calling me an ass. All things a pseudo younger sister would do. Which means I’m right and Wendy is wrong. Thank hell.

“Lady Darling,” I say, bowing and taking her hand. “Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

“You know how to waltz?”

Straightening to my full height, I curl my lip. “Hell no. But I do happen to remember how to sway back and forth, high-school-slow-dance-style.”

Laughing, she sets her clipboard down and wraps her arms around my neck. “In that case, Lord Pan, I’d love to high-school-slow-dance with you.”

I pull her close until our bodies are flush. I love how she still fits against me, even though I’m much bigger than I was ten years ago, and she’s filled out in all the right places. It’s like no matter how we change over time, our edges are fluid, always melding together perfectly.

“I get it now,” I say, looking around the room—the attention to small details that make huge impacts, the happiness radiating from the children, the smiles on the nurses’ faces. “I get why you became an event planner.”

A soft grin turns up the corners of her mouth and lights up her eyes. “You do?”

I nod. “I see the magic here, in what you do. You’ve created a world for these kids where their illnesses can’t touch them, at least for a little while. On the surface, it might look like simple cardboard cutouts, balloons, and enough glitter to cover all of Neverland…” Wendy chuckles and traps her lower lip between her teeth. “But underneath that is the magic of freedom. Freedom from whatever problems they might have in the real world. And that’s a career worth having.”

She turns her head and takes in the scene she created. “Children inherently hold their own magic on the inside—it’s in their hearts, their imaginations, and the way they so easily suspend their disbelief.” Shrugging, she looks up at me again. “I just helped them see it on the outside, too.”

“Don’t make it sound like a small thing, Wen. It’s amazing what you did.”

Color seeps into her cheeks, and she lowers her gaze to my chest. “Well, not every job is as amazing as this one.” She scrunches up her nose. “It’s harder to make old, stodgy rich folk see the magic outside of their wallets.”

“I have no doubt you’ll make their stuffy event magical—I mean, the theme is classic cars, so I’m not sure it gets any better than that. But if they don’t see it, that’s their problem.”

“It’s also a little my problem since it’s my company name on the line, and this is the kind of job that can make or break me.”

“Like I said before, don’t worry about that. I’m going to build you a boss Bel Air that’s going to rake in tons of dough, and Wendy Darling is going to be the charity event queen in all of North Carolina.”

She chuckles, saying she hopes that’s the case, but I have complete faith in her. Wendy can do anything she sets her mind to. Slipping my arms around her waist, I lean my forehead against hers as we continue to sway together.

“You know,” I say, turning on the Pan charm with a mischievous grin, “I can bring a whole different kind of magic into your…life.”

Wendy rolls her lips in as her blue eyes dance with amusement. She does a quick check to make sure there’s no one in our immediate vicinity, then whisper-laughs, “Did you just refer to your penis as being magical?”

I waggle my eyebrows at her ridiculously. “Hasn’t it always been?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“That sounds too sarcastic for my taste.”

“Wellllllll…”

“Well what?”

“Hate to break it to you, big guy,” she begins with a slight wince, “but while it was magical in many ways, I never got to the big finale, if you know what I mean.”

I stop swaying, my joke no longer funny. “Are you—” Before I say anything more, I need to get away from the mixed company. Grabbing her hand, I lead her out of the room and into the empty hall. Caging her in with my hands braced against the wall, I start again. “Are you saying that you never came?”

“Peter, it’s extremely common—”

“Not with me, it’s not,” I growl.

“I mean for that age. We were young and inexperienced.” She smiles and raises her hands to my face. “No one starts out as Casanova.”

All I get out is a grunt. Even with being inexperienced, making love to Wendy had still been the most amazing experience of my young life. Then again, considering she was my first, and I did reach the big finale every time, I doubt it could have been anything less than mind blowing.

I grin as I realize I have the chance to redeem myself. “You know what this means, right?”

“Hmm?”

“You need to give me a chance to make it up to you.”

“I do, huh? Just like that? Whatever happened to getting dinner first?”

“Oh, we’ll do dinner first,” I say leaning in, “then I’m gonna give you enough magic to make you fly.”

Her gaze settles onto my lips, and her voice is breathy as she fists the sides of my shirt. “I like the sound of that.”

“You’ll like the feel of it even better.” With that, I claim her lips like I intend to claim her body. And her orgasms.

“Jesus, you gotta be kidding me.”

We startle apart to find a pissed off Tinkerella standing there. Wendy’s immediately worried. “Tink, is everything okay with the kids?”

“They’re fine. Michael’s entertaining them while you two play tonsil hockey in the hall.” I arch a brow of warning at her, and she backs down. “Anyway, I gotta change and head to the track. I’ll leave everything in the room.”

Tink stalks down the hall and disappears into the hospital room. I’d be pissed about the cockblock, but we wouldn’t have been able to do more than that kiss anyway.

“I should get back in there. A lot of them get tired quickly, and we still have to play games.”

“Yeah, I need to take her back, anyway. About that date, how’s tomorrow night sound?”

“A Monday night date? Peter, I have a ton of work to do this week, and you need to get started on that Bel Air, or I’ll be screwed, and not in the magical way.”

I laugh. “We can’t have that happen again. I suppose the boys can have festivities without me this week. Friday?”

“Friday works.”

“Great,” I say and kiss her before walking backward to the room. “Be ready at seven, Wen. Dinner first, then I’m giving you flying lessons.”