"Did he hurt you?"
Mack
I’mwedgedinaninety-degree angle, with my feet on the ground and my upper body splayed the full length of a bookcase, when I hear the bell above the door to Mood Reader jingle.
“Rose?”
I slam my head on the shelf above me at the sound of Poppy’s voice.
Biting back a curse, I pull myself out of the precarious position I’m in and stand up straight as a board.
I haven’t seen Poppy since the wedding last weekend.
To be specific, I haven’t seen her since she and Holland arrived home at the duplex. I bolted inside because the thought of watching them kiss goodnight was enough to make me upchuck, and I really, really didn’t want to see her invite him inside. I’ve been trying not to think about it.
“I’m upstairs,” Rose’s voice echoes throughout the room of books.
Mood Reader is located in the Cashmere Cove historic district, the part of town nearest to the water. As such, the building is longer than it is wide, with weathered wood floors and quaint fixtures. There’s a spiral staircase in the back that leads up to an open loft and adjacent apartment, and from the sounds of it, that’s where Rose is working at the moment.
“I’m coming up.”
Footsteps grow louder as Poppy approaches the row where I’m standing. Right as she rounds the corner, I manage to kick over the books I painstakingly removed from the shelf and piled in order on the floor so I’d have room to work.
“Big?” Poppy cocks her head at me. She’s dressed in what I’ve come to consider her work attire. A black, sporty skort and a polo shirt. Her hair is pulled up and off her face, and the heavy makeup from last weekend’s wedding is gone. She looks good, if a little tired.
“Uh, hey.”
“What are you doing?”
Ogling you.
Being an idiot.
“Mia asked me to install undershelf lighting for all the bookcases.” I gesture at my electrical toolbox and then the shelf.
An expression covers Poppy’s face that I can’t quite read, and when she glances at me with a look of admiration in her eyes, my knees turn to jelly. I’m not sure what I did to deserve that, but I’ll take it.
She points to books that are spread across the floor like a paperback rug. “Do you want some help?”
“Nah. I’ve got it.”
Poppy twists her lips to the side.
“It’s all organized.”
She narrows her gaze.
“I’ve got a system.” I take a step back and knock another pile of books over.
She smirks. “If you say so.”
“Yep. All good here.” I go to rest my forearm against the bookcase, but instead of looking cool, calm, and collected, I knock my drill to the floor.
It hits the hardwood, and the battery pops out of place. I bend to retrieve it. Poppy does too, and we slam our heads into each other.
She falls backward onto her butt, letting out anumph.
I grunt and rub my forehead.
