Even Nina—who, according to Calamity, didn’t need as much sleep during the day now that she was half witch as she once had when she was full vampire—was as beautiful as she’d been the night before in dim lighting.
She was also just as grumpy because she needed blood—a notion Poppy couldn’t linger too long on for fear of freaking out and making herself appear weak.
When Poppy had gasped at the thought, Calamity assured her it was synthetic and easily conjured by a spell. Which made all of this very, very real. She really was in the company of werewolves and vampires and last night was not just a bad dream.
She herself had risen to find her new familiarin-arms tucked against her side, snuggled up to her hip and purring softly, a soothing sound. As her eyes had opened and she’d adjusted to the streaky gray of a new day, she’d fought the intense need to run back to her apartment and hide under the crocheted blanket her grandmother had sent with her when she’d left for New York all those years ago.
Poppy had been right on the money to want to hide, because Rick was still as reluctant today, if not more so than he’d been last night.
They were all standing around his kitchen island, almost the exact position and setting as last night—well, except for the gaping holes in the ceiling—and he was still singing the same worn-out tune.
Yes, we’ll have no familiars today!
Swirling his coffee in his cup, his tanned fingers gripping the mug, Rick shook his freshly showered dark head. “Already told you. I don’t need a familiar. Now you can stay in the shed for as long as you like, until I get in touch with Familiar Central and fix this, but that’s as far as this goes.”
“Dick,” Nina muttered under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest. Wanda and Marty glared at him, too, while Calamity hissed, sharing her disapproval by hacking up a hairball in the center of his gleaming kitchen floor.
Somehow, Poppy had expected his attitude would be just a smidge better today than it had been yesterday. That maybe Wanda’s advice about a good night’s sleep really was all Rick needed to rethink ditching her.
But as he glared at her over his mug of morning coffee, his dark eyes and even darker eyebrows making that frowny face of displeasure, out of the blue, she knew the right thing to do was convince him he needed her. Make him like her.
She’d done it dozens of times and managed to wheedle her way into the chorus line of one play or another. She’d done it this last time on the road show from hell with the director from hell who’d stolen the production’s money on their last tour.
Why couldn’t she do it now? Despite the fact that director after director had told her she couldn’t act if the spirit of Meryl Streep possessed her, she’d never listened.
She’d kept right on taking classes, practicing, and taking more classes. She knew a thing or two about improv. If it kept her out of the Bad Place, she was all systems go.
Grabbing the bulk of her hair, Poppy swung it over her shoulder and braided it, then threw it behind her like a gladiator going into battle.
Now that was a good thought. Pretend you’re Russell Crowe, Poppy. Play the part like you’ve played a million other parts in the mirror of your bathroom. Be the gladiator.
Hands on hips, she squared her shoulders and affected a confident gaze. “So I have a proposition, Ricardo. Mind if I toss if out to you?”
Shoving his hand in the pocket of his crisp black trousers, he sighed, the rumbly sound emitting from his throat raspy and sexy even in agitation. “Rick. I prefer Rick.”
Which totally rhymes with dick… Clearing her throat, Poppy considered her words as she shoved her own hands inside the pockets of her jacket. “Okay, Rick. Listen, what if you just take me on a ride-along? Just a test ride? Maybe I might prove more valuable than you think. You don’t know, right? I might not look like it, but maybe I have all the answers right upstairs here in my brain. Maybe I just might be an asset to you. But all I ask, before you complain to HR or whomever it is you tattle to in the realm when you don’t like your familiar, is that you at least give me a chance.”
He looked at his phone, scrolling through something he made appear incredibly important. “It isn’t that I don’t like you, Miss McGuillicuddy. I don’t know you enough to decide one way or the other. I just don’t want or need a familiar.”
“That’s not what the realm says,” Calamity bristled.
But Poppy held up a hand to thwart an argument. “Right. Potato-potahto. Forget the realm’s rules and all that nonsense. Are you going to give me a chance or not?”