“Despite its name, the bush didn’t actually have grapes, but tart, dark berries. Its leaves were like those of a holly bush—waxy, pointy, and currently poking Daphne in the face. It didn’t help that it had snowed last night and they were crouched in at least four inches of the stuff. Earth weather was kinda sucky. “I’m getting a cold,” whispered Daphne. She wiggled her nose as though trying to prevent a sneeze. “You can’t get colds, Daphne. You’re immortal.” “I got tree rot once.” ... Aphrodite turned toward her and lifted one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Do I look like Demeter? Save your plant disease talk for her. She loves conversing about tree rot and acidic content of soil and the perfidies of Kudzu. Ugh.” She studied her friend and executive assistant’s black leather tank top, yellow neon skirt, and those gorgeous wedge high heels. “It’s not like you’re dressed for Oregon weather anyway.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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