Rick barked a laugh, throwing his dark head back on his shoulders, revealing his tanned throat as he sat in one of her cracked blue vinyl kitchen chairs. “No platypus costumes for you, young lady. I’m pretty sure we can figure something out.”
As the scent of coffee filled her little apartment, and she was reminded of how much she loved this cracked and peeling space, she shook her head. “Nope. Mr. Rush deserves the money. He was really nice to me while I struggled these last couple of years. He gave me more breaks than I care to count when times were lean. Well, they were always lean, but you know what I mean. Even if it’s just left in an account for him somewhere—for medical care or physical therapy or whatever he needs, it’s not a fortune, but it’s his, and I owe him that kind of respect.”
Rick watched her as she poured the coffee and offered him some powdered coffee creamer. “Have you always been an actress?”
She grinned, taking a place opposite him at the table. “You mean a poor has-been with no solid plan other than a bright-lights-big-city dream?”
“I mean, is that what you strictly do for a living?”
“Well, it’s not a living by any stretch. Believe that. But I love it. It’s what brings me peace. Fulfills me, even if it doesn’t fill my bank account.” She paused a moment, running her finger over the rim of her mug. “However, I’ve learned that making a living isn’t the same thing as making a life.”
Ricks sat up straight, capturing her gaze with his, his eyes intense, his jaw tight and pulsing. “Maya Angelou, right?”
Poppy blinked, cringing at the intensity of his gaze. “What?”
“What you just said,” he pressed, leaning forward. “That’s a quote from Maya Angelou.”
Surprise made her frown. “Is it?” Where had that come from? Had the spirit of sage advice and sound wisdom possessed her? She didn’t know any Maya Angelou quotes.
“It is. My—” Rick shook his head. The moment they’d shared seconds ago had clearly passed, and whatever he’d been about to say, he’d decided against. “Never mind.” Rising, he looked at the women and Calamity, still flipping the pages of the enormous book. “Ladies? It’s time we took this show back on the road. I have to get back to my place for a meeting with Avis.”
“But your hand. How are you going to explain that to your partner?” Poppy asked, rising, too.
His answer was clipped and short. “He’s a warlock, too. He’ll get it.”
Well, that was one less explanation to squirm through. But why was Rick so stiff and closed up whenever they talked about magic? In fact, didn’t he say he’d made it a point to work with only humans?
Gazing at the pictures she had scattered over a shelf under her kitchen clock made Poppy’s heart tighten further. She had tons of them, from snaps of her family back in Cincinnati to all sorts of pictures of her in some of the shows she’d done.
“Do you want to gather some things to bring back to my place? Clothes? Maybe your Red’s Rides poster? I think it could work on the wall of your bedroom. You know, right over the head of the bed?” he teased, lightening up a little.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Poppy squirmed. Damn that poster.
But she had an idea—one she was sure he’d agree to in light of the fact that he resented her being in the shed. “Why don’t I just stay here? I could show up at your house like a job. You know, nine-to-five kind of thing? You didn’t love the idea of me living at your place anyway. This way I wouldn’t be in your hair.” All that amazingly glossy black hair.
But Calamity was on the table in a flash, her kitty paws thumping Poppy’s fingers. “That’s not how this works, Poppy. You have to be on call at all times. Until the bond is officially broken by the powers that be, you absolutely must stay close. You don’t think I roam around with that volatile nut because I want to, do you? I’d rather graffiti bridges and go through a gang initiation.”
“Bite me, Calamity!” Nina growled from her place on the worn couch.
Looking around, her heart hurt with loss. Her apartment wasn’t much to look at aesthetically, but it held so many dear things.
“Isn’t there some spell I can conjure to zip me to his place every morning? I mean, if I can turn him to stone, surely I can appear and disappear. How hard can it be?”
“That was a crazy accident. I don’t even know how or why it happened. In fact, I don’t know how the hell I even managed to turn him back.” Then the feline looked at Rick’s wrist, still hanging by a thread. “Well, mostly anyway. Look, Poppy, the gig’s the gig. End of. You gotta be wherever he is.”
Catching her by surprise, Rick nodded his agreement with a grin. “Plus, a deal’s a deal. One week was the deal.”
“You’re right,” she answered softly, her response tinged with regret as she swallowed back the threat of tears.