The Accidental Familiar (Accidentally Paranormal Series Book 14) (10 page)

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?”

“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.

Why were they parked in front of her apartment building?

The old, faded brick structure, crumbling in some areas, was well worn, but deeply loved by all its residents. The windows, square and unusually tall, sparkled in the gold and gray of the day, each sporting a flower box her landlord’s father had insisted on installing and which remained even now, some forty years later.

The garden just beyond the black iron gates and to the left of the double front doors had been lovingly planted and tended on rotation by her and the other residents. She loved the opaque blue gazing ball in the center, especially at this time of year with all the mums in bloom. Spiral bonsais made a small maze that led to a bench, where she often sat with one neighbor or another when she was between jobs.

But that wasn’t the best part of this apartment building by a long shot. What had intrigued Poppy from the get-go was the spire peak on the roof. Carved from stone, its swirling pattern and ornate ball topper with some sort of fancy symbols had enchanted her. The building also sported four matching square stones in the lobby with the same design.

The elaborate pieces, clearly made to match the spire, sat on thick pillars, bracketing the front doors and the elevators. She jokingly rubbed them for good luck every time she left for an audition

The spire undoubtedly looked ridiculously out of place and too grand on such a quaint building, but when she saw it after a long day, it let her know she was home. She’d always meant to ask about how the spire had come to be, but in her quest to become Broadway’s hottest ticket, she’d never taken the time.

Rick’s deep dark eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “Ladies, we’ve arrived. I’ll trust you can find something to do. It’s going to take me at least an hour here at this site, so maybe grab some breakfast at the diner. They have the best omelets in the city,” he coaxed.

“Well, if Rick says they’re the best, who are we to fucking question it? Rick knows everything, don’t’cha, Rick?” Nina asked sarcastically, punching his upper arm.

If Rick had been nicer to her in the beginning, she’d owe him saint status for not throttling Nina by now. She’d taken outright jabs at him without hesitation since they’d left his house, and the foreseeable future didn’t look jab free for him either.

Poppy reached forward and gripped Rick’s shoulder, preventing him from climbing from the van. For some odd reason, one she didn’t understand at all, but one she knew she needed to trust, she didn’t tell him this was where she lived.

Not yet anyway. Though it would be aces to grab some clothes and personal items and find out how to reach her landlord in order to hopefully arrange to make payments on the rent she owed.

“Why are we here again? I mean, I’m just asking in an effort to better understand what you do.”

Turning to gaze at her, his eyes less icy than earlier this morning, he said, “I’m doing my job,” before sliding out of the van.

On impulse, she climbed over the driver’s seat, knocking Nina in the head with her platform boot.

“Watch it!” she yelped, swatting at the heel of her boot.

“Wait!” Marty tugged the length of her hair. “You want us to come with?”

Poppy offered a quick apology to Nina before she shook her head. “I think I need to handle this alone. But stay close?”

“Always,” Wanda murmured, tucking her purse under her breasts and looking out at the children playing on the swing set in the park.

Hopping out with a clunk of her boots to the concrete, she ran after Rick to catch up to him, hoping none of her neighbors saw her.

Making a grab for his arm, she tried not to think about the ripple of his muscle beneath her fingertips or the oddly pleasant thrill she got when she touched him.

She managed to thwart him beneath one of the old oak trees bracketing the entryway just outside the black iron gates to her home, noting the gold and burnt orange colors of the leaves made his dark presence even sexier.

God. She had to stop thinking of him as sexy. She was his advisor, not his Sugar Mama.

Taking a deep breath, she fought the appeal of his cologne and the olive tones to his perfect skin. “Tell me about your job. I mean, in an effort to help me show you what a rad familiar I can be. Let’s get to know each other. Okay?”

Standing tall, his reluctance clear, he loomed over her, even with her in platform boots. “I told you about my job.”

She shook her head as the wind picked up, pushing her hair into her face. “No. You told me your job’s title. What does one do when they develop? Develop can mean lots of things. Software, buildings, concepts.”

“I buy things and develop them.”

She let her shoulders sag and made a pouty face, stuffing her cold hands into her pockets. “Aw, c’mon, Ricky baby. Help a girl out here. That’s so vague. Like, for instance, if you asked me what kind of an actress I am, I’d tell you my specialties are improvisational with a little method thrown in. Also, I can dance. Ballet, tap, ballroom, but my true calling is contemporary. Oh! And I sing. Er, mostly karaoke.”

Now Rick almost smiled, further making her cheeks warm. “You’re an actress? Have I seen you in something?”

“Hah! Not likely. Unless you saw my commercial for Red’s Rides Used Cars. It was local. You know, ‘Come to Red’s and save some bread!’ and then because Red turned into a fan, mostly because I was cheap and I’d wear the costume, I did a commercial for his brother Hank’s sister dealership, too. Maybe you recognize ‘Let Hank fill your tank!’ Buy a used car, get a free tank of gas!’”

Her eyes momentarily fell to the ground to hide her shame. She’d been in dire straits at the time, and while most of the acting community would frown upon stooping to a cheesy local commercial, it had paid her rent for four months.