“Just one?” Poppy raises a brow at me with a smile on her face. And then, as quick as it was there, it’s gone. “Wait, no.” She shakes her head. “Get off me.”
Like a bucket of cold water was just tipped over me, I jump off her, taking a few steps backwards. “Okay, so that’s a no to the orgasms then?” I hold up my hands in surrender.
“Orgasms, as in plural?” Poppy questions. “Wait… It doesn’t matter. No, I don’t want an orgasmor orgasmsfrom you. I can give those to myself just fine.”
“Show me.” I lean back against the wall.
“I’m not showing you. Now, if you don’t mind, I have stuff to do. Andyouare not on my list.” Poppy rolls off the bed, walking past me and out the door.
Well, if I’m not on her to-do list, then I’ll just add myself to it. Following her out to the living room, I start opening drawers.
“What are you looking for?” Poppy asks from the kitchen.
“I need a pen and paper,” I tell her.
“Oh my god, stop.” She opens a drawer in front of her and pulls out a notepad and a pen. “Here.” She slams both down on the counter. “You’re very annoying. You should know that.”
“Annoying?”
“Yes, annoying.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” I smile, picking up the notepad and pen. I write at the top of the page:Poppy’s to-do list.
Underneath it, I make a single bullet point. And write the one thing that should be at the top of her to-do list:Sammie Russo Junior.
Turning the paper around, I slide it across to Poppy. “Here you go.”
“What is this?” She picks up the notepad. “Seriously, Sammie?” The corner of her mouth tips up at one side. She’s fighting the smile that wants to spread across that fucking beautiful face of hers.
“That should be at the top of your to-do list always. Because you have a permanent spot at the top of mine,” I tell her.
“Really? It took you a week to actually contact me,” she fires back.
“Did you want me to contact you? You left, remember?”
“Yeah, I left for a reason. Which is the same reason you should leave now.”
“I’m not leaving,” I tell her.
“Look, I get that you think your uncle’s organization had nothing to do with my mother’s murder. But it doesn’t change anything.”
“We’re going to figure this out.” My phone rings from where I left it on the coffee table. Walking over, I snatch it up. “Shit, it’s Imogen. I have to take this.”
“Take it,” Poppy says. She pulls down two cups from the cabinet as I answer the call.
“Imogen, how are you?” I ask my sister.
“Good, ah, your test results are here. The doctor brought them to the house. I have the envelope, but I’m too scared to open it.”
“Did Mom and Dad get theirs?” I ask her.
“They’re not a match. Mom isn’t taking it very well at all.”
“Yeah, I can imagine.” I really need to call my mother. “Okay, let me switch it to video. You can open the envelope and show me,” I tell my sister. After switching the call, I sit on the sofa.
“Is Poppy there?” Imogen asks.
“Yeah,” I tell her.
