“Sure am!” the boy said proudly, bumping knuckles against mine.
I ran a hand over my head, sweeping the hair back, and looked up at his mom. Poppy didn’t wear the same tense expression as Queen Penelope. Her smile was soft and shy. And all for me.
“Hi! I didn’t think you were coming,” she breathed. “Alessandro said you weren’t feeling well.”
I smirked. “Just too much popcorn and candy.”
Poppy hummed knowingly and hiked a canvas tote over her shoulder. “We were just about to go in.”
“Sandro’s coming. We should wait,” Penelope said abruptly.
“I’m tired of waiting,” the kid groaned.
I rose, ignoring the crackles and pops in my knees. “He can catch up. Why don’t you show me the market, partner?”
The kid went to take off, but his mother darted forward and grabbed his shoulder. “Hand, Brady. It’s a lot busier here.”
The restless bundle of energy wriggled free. “I won’t get lost.”
Poppy’s face grew stern.
It was fucking adorable.
“Brady, hand. Now. Or we will leave.”
The boy dropped his shoulders. “Fine.”
But instead of reaching for his mom, he spun around and stuck out a small paw.
A surprising warmth spread through me at the gesture. I took his hand. It was warm, and soft, and small.
Penelope spoke rapidly in Italian. Poppy watched her, glanced at us, and then looked back at her cousin. She shifted, clearly uncertain.
I let Brady pull me into the market. He examined the booths on both sides, giving me a critical analysis of what he saw.
“Soap. We don’t need that.” He moved to the next booth, then the next and next. “Ooh! Honey. That’s always good to buy locally, but from a sustainable and responsible farmer. Pastries. Mama said no sweets.” His nose wrinkled. “Dog treats! Piccolo and Forte would like those.” The kid tugged my hand. “Let’s see what they have.”
We stopped at that booth. I felt a whisper of air at my side. Then the scent of vanilla and berries brushed my nose. Poppy pressed close, peering critically at the treats.
“Do you have a puppy, young man?” the vendor addressed the kid at my side. A smile pulled across his fat face, but there was something flat about his friendliness. It felt forced. If I could sense that, no doubt any dog would too.
“No.” The word was drawn out in an annoyed huff. “Mama says they’re a lot of work, and I need to be able to take care of it myself. But my cousin has two dogs!”
Poppy reached in front of me to snatch Brady’s hand as he went to grab two wrapped treats. Her arm brushed against my stomach, and a bolt of heat shot to my groin.
“No, Brady. We have to ask Penelope if she wants her dogs to have these,” Poppy said.
“Where is she?” Brady leaned around, looking through the crowd.
I leaned down. “The don’s wife has dogs?”
Poppy hissed. “Don’t call Alessandro that in public!” she whispered, turning into me.
Colliding against my chest.
She froze.
I couldn’t resist. I trailed the back of my knuckles up her bare arm.
