by Kathy Love
“Tell me if you have any special powers,” she said, putting as much authority in her tone as she could.
He gritted his teeth, but then said, “I have the ability to control thoughts and feelings.”
“Whoa.” Madison actually looking impressed for the first time since entering the apartment. “See, we totally could have gotten him to convince my mom to let me and Connor date.”
This time it was Daisy’s turn to roll her eyes. “Next time.”
“Next time?” The demon shook his head. “There isn’t going to be a next time.”
Daisy didn’t argue, since she wasn’t even sure he could pull off the current wish.
“So that’s it,” she said instead. “You need to find my sister her true love. Then you are free to go.”
He sighed and that muscle in his jaw ticced, but he nodded.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Let’s get started.”
CHAPTER 5
Poppy had just flipped the last pancake when she heard the door to the apartment open.
“Daisy? Girls?” she called. “You’re just in time.”
She turned from the stove to see Daisy and her friends filing into the kitchen. But it was the tall figure trailing behind them that caught her attention.
The man from last night. She stared, taking in his sleep-mussed hair and the hint of five o’clock shadow shading his cut jawline.
“Madison brought her cousin,” Daisy said, even though her explanation was totally unnecessary. The man seemed to eat up all the space in the relatively large kitchen, even before he was fully inside it.
“You know my mom,” Madison said. “Nothing but some breakfast bars and skim milk. I hope it’s okay?”
Poppy started at Madison’s question and realized she was still staring at the man. Manners, Poppy. Especially after last night.
“Of course,” she said, nodding—perhaps a little too vigorously. Which she could only hope was distracting him from the blush burning her cheeks. She was blushing, of course, about the events of the last night. Certainly not because she’d been gaping at him like a mesmerized schoolgirl.
She gestured to the table, an old country kitchen piece that had been her mother’s. Then she busied herself with gathering plates and silverware.
Last night, over hot chocolate, she’d talked to the girls about this man. They hadn’t provided much more information than they had while he was prone on the floor. He was Madison’s cousin. From Sweden. But he’d lived in the States for several years. Apparently in Connecticut. And he was here for work—although she didn’t know what that work was.
The girls had been all fidgety and restless, which she’d chalked up to the crazy events of the evening and copious amounts of soda and candy.
She placed the platter of pancakes in the center of the table, looking at the girls now. They sat around the table, watching the man who remained in the kitchen doorway. And they didn’t look any more relaxed. In fact, they all stared at him like he was a creature from an entirely different world.
She glanced at the object of their attention and supposed she understood their reactions. He was unusually attractive, like he’d tumbled out of an ad for Calvin Klein or some other world where men were tall and muscular with brooding, pouty good looks.
She glanced away from him, busying herself with getting juice glasses down from the cupboard, knocking two of them over as she set them on the table. She didn’t look back at the man—Killian—because well, she was just trying to get the food on the table before everything got cold.
She could definitely see how daunting Killian could be for these young girls. But nothing so earthshaking for a grounded, grown woman such as herself.
She rummaged around the fridge, searching the shelves for the maple syrup.
“Can I help you with anything?”
Poppy started, banging her head on the handle of the freezer as she snapped upright.
“Ouch.”
Hand pressed to the back of her head, she turned to find Killian directly in front of her.
He didn’t smile or offer sympathy, he just regarded her with those sleepy golden eyes. In fact, Poppy got the distinct feeling he didn’t care about her bumped head. Then again, she had hit him last night. Maybe he figured this was a bit of poetic justice.
Then he held out a hand. “I’ll take that for you.”
She looked down, realizing the syrup dangled in her loose grip.
“Um, thanks,” she said, her eyes returning to his. Those almost hypnotic golden eyes.
He accepted the bottle, without a smile. His gaze held hers for a moment longer, then something strange and unreadable flashed there. Something she couldn’t quite understand, though she had the impression he wasn’t pleased.
He strode away, placing the syrup on the table and taking a seat with the girls. Poppy blinked, gathering herself. His odd gaze had left her feeling a little confused, a little unsure of what had just passed between them.
Did he dislike her? She got the feeling he did, and who could blame him after last night?
She joined the others, taking a seat beside Daisy.
“How are you feeling, Killian?” she asked, realizing she probably should have asked that as soon as she saw him. Maybe that was what that look was about
“I’ve been better,” he said, his tone dry.
Oh, no. Had she really injured him?
“Did Ginger think you should see a doctor?”
“Who?” He frowned, then glanced at Daisy.
“My mom,” Madison answered, and smiled at Poppy. “He’s always calls her Gin—Ginny. It’s a childhood nickname.”
Poppy nodded, her attention still on Killian. “So what did she say?”
Again, Killian looked at Daisy, just a quick glance, then he met Poppy’s eyes. “I will be fine.”
That wasn’t exactly the definitive answer she’d been looking for, but she nodded. She lifted the platter of pancakes and offered them to him.
“You should serve yourself first. It’s the least I can do.”
“Yes, the very least.”
Poppy blinked, surprised at the animosity in his voice. “I’m truly sorry I hit you, but I would hope you can understand that I was a woman alone with three teenage girls. And you were a stranger who, as far as I knew, wasn’t welcome.”
Killian speared several of the buttermilk pancakes and slid them onto his plate, all the while meeting her gaze, his expression none too friendly or understanding.
Poppy did feel bad, but she also thought her reaction was justified, given the information she’d had at the time.
“It’s really my fault,” Daisy said, her gaze moving back and forth between the two of them, landing on Poppy. “I should have woken you up to tell you he was coming.”
“That would have kind of ruined your big plan, now wouldn’t it?” Killian muttered, slathering butter on his pancakes as if he had a grudge against them as well.
“What plan?” Poppy was confused. “What was your plan?”
Madison suddenly started coughing, reaching for her glass of juice and knocking it over in her fit. The orange liquid splashed everywhere, but most spattered all over Poppy.
Poppy jumped up, and then the table was abuzz with activity. Madison reached to right her glass. Daisy hurried to get a towel. Emma moved the platter out of the wet mess.
“I’m sorry,” Madison said.
“Don’t worry,” Poppy assured her, tugging at her T-shirt, which clung, cold and sticky, to her skin. “Accidents happen.” She couldn’t stop herself from giving Killian a pointed look.
He was the only one at the table who remained where he sat. He took a bite of his pancake, watching them as if nothing had happened.
“Go change,” Daisy urged, mopping the juice with a dish towel. “We’ll clean this up.”
Poppy nodded, hearing her sister even over the whir of irritation in her head as she watched Killian continuing to chew away, oblivious to the rest of them. He acted
as if they were nothing more than the hired help.
She was beginning to feel pretty glad she’d clocked Killian O’Brien. In fact, she kind of felt like doing it again now. She should have known a man that good looking would be a real jerk.
“I’ll be right back.” She tugged at her shirt again, shooting the perfectly blasé Killian a look, which also went unnoticed. She left the room for a dry shirt and a moment to calm her growing temper.
“What are you doing?” Daisy asked as soon as her sister was out of earshot.
Killian finished chewing his pancake, poured some juice, took a sip, then gave the girl his best innocent look.
“I’m eating breakfast.”
Daisy braced both hands on her hips. “You’re supposed to be making friends with her, not arguing with her.”
Killian sighed, affecting his best bored look. “I tried. It’s not going to work.”
“You didn’t try at all,” Madison said.
“I did,” he said, giving a significant look at the bottle of syrup. “I helped.”
Daisy rolled her eyes, then continued. “There’s no point in being difficult. You’re stuck here until the wish is fulfilled. So rather than being a jerk, why don’t you just get to work?”
Killian stared at the girl. Her tone, her speech pattern, sounded remarkably like her older sister, although he wondered how, after such a short time in Poppy’s presence, he could recognize that. He narrowed his eyes, but then returned his attention to his pancakes.
As much as he hated to admit it, the girl was right. He was stuck here, and making Poppy hate him was really defeating his own purpose. But he was having a hard time not showing his aggravation. He did not want to be here. And he hated being controlled by young girls.
And to make matters worse, he’d discovered another very irritating fact. He couldn’t control Poppy’s thoughts or emotions either. He’d attempted to do so when he’d offered to help her while she was at the fridge. But nothing had happened. She was as unaffected as the girls.
“We need a more detailed plan,” Daisy decided, tossing the orange-juice-soaked towel into the sink. “You need to hang out with her. Just the two of you.”
“Are—are you really going to trust a demon alone with your sister?” Emma asked. She glanced nervously at Killian.
“He can’t hurt her,” Daisy said. “He has to do whatever we want.”
Killian gritted his teeth. Did they have to keep repeating that?
Smug smiles curved both Daisy and Madison’s lips. Damn, this was the most frustrating situation he’d ever been in. Killian couldn’t think of anything more humiliating than being controlled by teenage girls. This was hell—much worse than the Hell he knew.
“I still don’t think we should trust a demon,” Emma said.
“Demon?” Poppy came back into the kitchen in a new T-shirt, this one sporting the Superheroes, in their full retro glory. She also had changed into a pair of jeans that showed off the subtle curve of her hips and slight build.
Killian frowned, wondering why the innocuous change of clothes would suddenly draw his attention to her figure. Especially when he had much bigger concerns to take up his thoughts.
“What is this about demons again?” she asked.
“Oh—um,” Daisy looked around at the other girls, “we were just talking about …”
“His career,” Madison said. “Killian is a paranormal investigator.”
Killian fought the urge to roll his eyes. Paranormal what? Really?
“Really?” Poppy said, her tone intrigued, despite her obvious dislike of him. She turned to him. “Wow, you don’t meet one of those every day.”
No, you didn’t. And she hadn’t now either. But he simply nodded, not sure what exactly to say about this newest lie. Couldn’t these kids come up with something even remotely normal?
“He’s actually here to do research,” Madison said.
Okay, he could probably work with that.
“He has his own paranormal show,” Madison added with one of her smirky little smiles.
Okay, now they were just getting silly again.
“Your own show? Like one of those ghost-hunter type programs?” Poppy asked.
“Umm, yeah, sort of like that,” Killian said, not sure what exactly she was referring to.
“He’s quite a celebrity in Sweden,” Madison said, clearly enjoying this storytelling a bit too much.
“Madison’s actually getting a little carried away,” Daisy said, obviously agreeing with him. She shot her friend a warning look, then turned to Killian. “Weren’t you saying that you are just here to get ideas for a show?”
“Um, yeah. Just ideas.” Killian forced a smile. If they were expecting his help, then they were going to have to let him make up the fake life for himself. A paranormal investigator/pseudo-celebrity from Sweden? Teenage girls had strange ideas of cool.
“That’s pretty impressive,” Poppy said, although he couldn’t tell if she was impressed or not. He supposed it didn’t matter as long as she was actually buying this load of nonsense.
“In fact,” Daisy said, “he was hoping to have a look around Boston today. You could do that, right, Poppy?”
Poppy shot her sister an irritated glance, then gave Killian a feigned look of regret. “Oh, I don’t know. I have some work to do today.”
“It’s Sunday,” Daisy said. “Surely even you can take a Sunday off.”
Poppy shifted, her discomfort with this idea clear on her face, but reluctantly nodded. “I guess I can join you.”
“Great,” Daisy said. “He wants to walk the Freedom Trail. There’s plenty of ghostly stuff there. Plus, I’m sure he’d like to just see the city.”
Killian nodded. What he’d really like to see was his own place, but to do that, he was going to have to find this waiflike woman in her superhero T-shirt true love. Which was going to apparently involve ghost tours too. Joy.
“Okay, well let me just run to my office and check my e-mail and grab a sweater. Then I will be ready to go.” Poppy hurried out of the kitchen as if she’d rather just go hide and avoid their plan altogether.
He didn’t blame her. How was he supposed to pull off this cockamamie scheme anyway? What did he know about matchmaking? Or true love, for that matter? He’d never experienced such a phenomenon. In fact, he didn’t actually think such a thing existed. In his world, people were usually coming to him because they’d been involved in acts and deeds that had not a single thing to do with love.
“Okay, so here’s what you need to do,” Daisy said in a hushed voice, shooting a furtive glance toward the kitchen door. “First of all, be nice. I mean you’re pretty hot”—Killian raised an eyebrow at that—“but you need to work on your personality.”
He frowned at that. Work on his personality? Whatever.
“Poppy’s not the type to warm up to someone quickly,” Daisy told him. “So you’re going have to work it.”
“You need new clothes too,” Madison added with a disdainful grimace at his uniform.
Killian looked down at himself. “What? This is classic. Dashing.”
“It’s gay.”
“I kind of like it,” Emma surprised him by saying, even though she immediately avoided his gaze, toying with her syrup-drenched pancake.
“Well, you like those Johnny Depp types,” Madison said in a way that made it clear she did not.
“He is a paranormal investigator,” Daisy said. “I think he can pull the look off. It makes him interesting.”
“Because the life you’ve invented for me isn’t interesting enough,” Killian said wryly. “I think maybe I need to invent my own background from now on.”
Madison smiled, smug as usual. Emma bit her lip, sheepish as usual. And Daisy nodded.
“Fine. But remember your task. And try to be someone my sister would like. Well, not like like, but, you know, hang out with.”
“I get it,” he said, finding it rather terrifying that Daisy was the only on
e who seemed at all sensible.
“And no telling her that you are a demon,” she added. “That won’t make her like you at all.”
“I hadn’t planned on it.” Actually he had thought of it earlier, but that definitely wouldn’t get him home any sooner to his comfy bed, Xbox and expensive scotch.
“Okay,” Poppy said, walking into the kitchen in a black cardigan that looked like it had been around since the sixties. “Are we ready to go sightseeing?”
All three girls stood then.
“Oh, we aren’t going. We have to help Emma’s mother,” Daisy said.
Poppy frowned. “What?”
“We’re helping Mrs. Wills—” Daisy looked at Emma.
“Clean,” Emma said automatically. “We’re—helping with the annual spring cleaning.”
“So you two have fun,” Daisy said, waving as she hooked the other two girls’ arms and dragged them from the kitchen. The apartment door slammed shut before Poppy even managed to snap her gaping mouth closed.
Slowly Poppy turned to look at Killian.
He smiled, perhaps his first real smile of the past two days. “I guess it’s just the two of us.”
CHAPTER 6
J ust the two of us.
Poppy was still trying to figure out how she’d ended up alone with this man, even as they stepped off the T and headed toward their first stop on the historic Freedom Trail.
If Killian’s silence on the subway trip was any indication, she suspected he didn’t quite understand how he’d gotten here either. But the truth was she had knocked him unconscious with a family heirloom, he wasn’t from the area, and she had agreed, even if misled to do so, to show him around. And while she still thought he was a jerk, she was polite enough to make an effort to show him a few of the sights.
“I’m taking you to Boston Commons,” she told him as she led him down the sidewalk toward the park. “It’s the oldest public park in the U.S.—and supposedly hosts a number of ghosts.”
Killian nodded, looking around him, and she couldn’t decide what his opinion of the city was thus far.
