“Define ‘giving you a chance’ in terms of time.”
Licking her dry lips, Poppy lifted her chin. “Give me ten days. If I haven’t proven my worth to you by then, I’ll personally hand myself over to the Bad Place, and you won’t have to do a thing. I won’t fight you on it, and you won’t have to deal with the powers that be labeling you difficult—which you totally are. But that’s beside the point. If you’re going into this determined to ditch me anyway, what do you have to lose but ten days of your time? You prove to HR you at least tried. I leave willingly. This way, there’s no muss, no fuss.” She swiped her hands together in a gesture of no fuss.
But Rick’s head popped up as he moved closer to her, the scent of his delicious cologne wafting under her nose. “Ten days?”
His tone suggested she’d asked for forever, but she held her ground. In her mostly broke years in New York, she’d also learned to negotiate all sorts of things from free meals at the various waitressing jobs she’d had in order to have enough money to pay the electric bill or by walking her neighbor’s dogs in exchange for subway money.
Planting a hand on his counter, Poppy slapped the shiny steel. “Yep. Ten. Deal?”
Rick frowned, the lines in his forehead deepening. “I’ll give you three.”
“Aw, c’mon. Walk on the edge a little. Three’s not long enough to prove my worth. The universe unfolding takes at least four,” she teased, giving him the grin she reserved for the kind of part requiring she be eternally optimistic and sunshiney—the grin that also best showcased her dimples.
Lifting his chin, his eyes lit up. Somebody liked to negotiate. She saw it in the gleam of his eyes.
“Okay, four days.”
“Eight,” she countered. “Less than ten but more than four. And I’ll make you Rose McGuillicuddy’s famous corned beef and cabbage as a bonus.”
“I’d rather eat goat eyeballs than cabbage.”
Her eyes went wide as she fought a gag. “Is that a thing among witches and warlocks?”
He nodded, but Poppy could see he was fighting a grin. “But I do like corned beef. And seven days. One week. That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it. And you have to agree to stay out of my hair. Observe only. It’s a really busy week—we’re closing on a new development deal, and I’m jam-packed with last-minute details.”
Relief flooded her veins in a sweet rush. “Deal.” She held out her hand, which he promptly ignored as he made his way to the door, grabbing a light jacket from a hook and pushing his bulky arms into the sleeves.
As Rick grabbed the door handle, he pivoted on his heel and asked, “Well? Are you coming?”
Poppy stepped into high gear, slapping a smile on her face. “I’m there. Let’s go familiaring.”
“Not without us,” Nina said, pushing her way past Poppy to get between her and Rick. “If he’s gonna be a dick, he’s gonna be a dick with us there to have your back.”
Rick’s chin went rigid. “The deal didn’t include the three of you and the cat.”
But Nina leered at him, flashing her fangs. “And now it does, Rick. Consider that shit amended. Like it or I eat your face off.”
“Nina!” Wanda gasped, gripping her friend’s arm in admonishment.
But Rick nodded after he’d muttered something unintelligible in Spanish, almost as though he admired the vampire’s protective gesture. “Save your incisors for more important things. You’re welcome to come along.”
With that, he blew out the door and down the small path, heading to a red van labeled ARMD Development Corp in thick white and black lettering.
Ah. This must be how Rick made his money. Developing things. She didn’t know much about developers or what he was specifically into developing, and mostly she didn’t care. What she did care about was hanging on to this gig.
So she climbed into the wide side door and dropped into a seat between Wanda and Marty. Nina took shotgun, her sunglasses firmly on her nose as Marty passed her some sunscreen to cover her pale skin.
As Calamity hopped into her lap and settled against her, Poppy took deep breaths.
She could do this.
She would do this.
She’d begun to nod off while they’d fought early morning traffic, her head falling to Wanda’s shoulder, drool forming at the corner of her mouth. The stop they came to was abrupt and sharp, jolting her awake.
Wanda reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Wake up, Sleepyhead. We’ve arrived somewhere. Though Mr. Strong and Silent hasn’t offered us an ounce of information about where,” she drawled, her words full of sarcasm.
With a yawn, her eyes opened in increments, the scent of Polish sausage and sauerkraut drifting past her nose. Familiar scents, scents she’d become accustomed to since she’d moved to New York.
And that was when she caught a glimpse of her surroundings and realized she knew exactly where they were.