“So good.” She yawned. “I wish I could do a review. I’m probably behind on the excitement, though.”
A frown formed between my eyes at the resignation in her voice. It was almost as if the book pained her. I thought she would enjoy it more than watching us gamble.
“It’s definitely going to have the community buzzing,” Poppy sighed. I risked a glance and saw a smile playing on her lips. “It’s the author’s best work yet.”
“What community?” I asked, guiding the car onto the highway. The toll device snapped my car, adding to my tab.
“Hmm?” Poppy leaned deeper into the seat. “Oh, right. So, um, readers spend a lot of time online, sharing in the excitement of books.”
I slowed for a red light. This revelation confounded me. Not only did people read, but they talked about what they read?
Strange.
After a moment of contemplation, it made sense. Other industries congregated online to discuss their passions. Why was it surprising that readers did too? I shifted in my seat, muscles flexing after sitting too long. I knew the reason. It embarrassed me. There was no way I was admitting to this woman my shortcoming.
“You do this? Partake in the reading scene?” I asked just to take her mind off it if she noticed my discomfort.
She hadn’t. Her body seemed to light up. She sat straighter in her seat, drowsiness all but gone.
“I do—I mean, I used to,” she said animatedly. “I would read several books a week, sharing them on my socials. Authors sent me their books, which was pretty cool.”
“There are that many books?” I was confounded. And perilously close to sounding ignorant.
Fuck me, I shouldn’t have sent one of my guys to the bookstore. I should have gone myself. I wanted to understand what she was talking about.
“Oh, yeah! Hundreds and hundreds of books published every day,” Poppy beamed. “I probably have a pile of them waiting back in Carrington.”
A muscle jumped in my jaw at the mention of her old home. She would not be going back there.
But if her things were there….
They can be brought here.
Poppy was staying. That was the end of it. But it didn’t mean she had to give up her old life, especially such an innocent part of it.
More facets to my plans formed in my head as we pulled into the alley and then the driveway.
Consumed by the need to understand, to make things better, I held open first her door and then the back door. Poppy stepped inside—
Then stumbled.
“What the hell!” she gasped. Her gaze jumped about, eyes blinking as she tried to make sense of what she saw.
“Right. That.” I moved in behind her, a smile stretching across my face. “Surprise.”
There wasn’t a strong chemical scent, which was odd. Paint used to smell for days. Maybe that’d changed or maybe they ventilated the house well enough in the hours that passed.
“What did you do?” Poppy murmured.
I chuckled silently. I liked that she jumped to the correct assumption that this was all me. Granted, I hadn’t done the physical labor.
“I think the Samodivas were busy last night,” I teased.
“Samo-whats?” Poppy brushed her fingers over the wall as if were an illusion.
I dug into my childhood, remembering the things my grandmother told me. “Magical helpers.”
“Oh.”
