Producer: I’m going to have to bleep that out. Can we get away from using profanity?
Decker: Yup.
Producer: Wait! Where are you going?
Decker: Stopping myself from cussing you out.
12
Decker was an idiot. Plain and simple.
Not only had he let things get out of hand, he still hadn’t talked to Poppy since the human-canvas paint-a-thon disaster. More like she’d been avoiding him. Well, as much as one could while being locked in the same house.
Instead of confronting the situation head-on, she’d scuttled her little butt out of that room as fast as she could and then remained invisible for the rest of the day. And instead of seeking her out, he’d let her hide.
Oh, they’d bumped into each other in the hallway a few times. Ate together with the crew for the first time, where she made sure to use Kiki and Jessika as a buffer between them. Anytime he got so much as two feet from her she scurried to the other side of the room and struck up a conversation with someone else. While it was good to see her interact with the rest of the crew like she was a part of the team, it was frustrating that she was using them as a barrier.
When he’d entered the bedroom at half past eight, with the intention of talking it out, she was snug as a bug in a rug, withthe lights out and feigning sleep with Taters at her feet. She even gave a few heavy breaths to really sell the act. Which made him grin.
“I know you’re not asleep,” he said. “But I’m touched that you’d go through so much effort to convince me. I must really be getting to you.” He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. “And I mean it in a hot-and-bothered kind of way.”
She didn’t respond but he could hear her grit her teeth. If there was one thing he’d learned about Poppy over the past week it was that she hated to be called out. Especially when the other person was right. Even more so when that other person was him.
“First the near kiss. Then the body painting. And now you’re avoiding me all day.” He let out a low whistle. “That must be some kind of crush you have brewing.”
He could almost see her biting her lips to keep herself from blowing her cover.
“Next thing I know, you’ll be thinking up new and exciting ways to get your hands on me. This time without my shirt on.”
He was met with silence.
“Well, since you’re fast asleep and all, I guess I’ll help myself to one of those ice cream sandwiches you hide in the back of the freezer in my workshop.” She didn’t take the bait. “Or maybe I’ll just hop in bed.”
Decker was about to strip down to his skivvies and slide between the sheets to really test just how far she was willing to take this farce when a loud clank came from outside the window. It was like metal slamming on metal.
His first thought was that one of the crew had forgotten something and come back to collect it. He walked quietly to the window and peered through the glass, being as inconspicuous as possible. He squinted through the inky night’s sky and was about to give up when he saw it—a hoodie-wearing-a-backpack-shaped shadow standing on the street side of the chain-linked fence. Did he mention the hoodie-shaped shadow was built like a linebacker?
Normally Decker would just grab his hockey stick and run out onto the lawn Rambo-style and scare the shit out of the guy. But “normally” didn’t include a pretend-to-be-sleeping angle. Nor her sharp-tongued bestie in the pool house.
He reached into his pocket for his phone to call the cops and when he came up empty, he was reminded that he was stuck in a no-phone zone. The only thing between Backpack and keeping this house safe was Decker and an arsenal of power tools.
“Well, since I don’t want to wake you, I guess I’m going to go for that ice cream before bed.”
Decker, casual as can be, walked into the hallway and closed the door behind himself. He got as far as the kitchen, where he grabbed the biggest crowbar he could find, and was about to open the slider when something tugged at the back of his mind. Something important that he couldn’t seem to identify.
It was as if he were forgetting something. Something that if he didn’t take a second to figure out he’d regret for a long time to come. He could see Backpack pacing the fence line looking for a way in. It would only take a few more minutes before the guy decided to scale the wall. But no matter how urgent the situation was, there was something more urgent to deal with.
He closed his eyes and let his forehead rest on the glass door. Poppy.
Just the other night he’d promised her that he’d not only listened, but he’d heard what she’d been saying. And she’d trusted him when he’d said they’d be a team.
“I just don’t like to have decisions made for me. I prefer to have options laid out and then make the decision together.”
Was this one of those situations where there wasn’t time for a board meeting? He looked back at Hoodie who was still trying to figure out what to do.
Right there with you.
Deciding a board meeting was in order, he spun on his heel and was about to head toward the bedroom when a big hammer came swinging directly at his head. Quick on his feet, he caught it mid-thrust and stopped it before decapitation began.
