As he passed the blonde, she smiled at him again; this time her look was filled with sympathy. She’d obviously seen Poppy’s abrupt departure.
“Problems?”
He nodded automatically. So many problems.
“Well, call me if you need a sympathetic ear.” The blonde had a business card out and pressed in his hand with the speed of a Vegas magician.
The woman’s forwardness oddly disgusted him. Why, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t bother to respond; instead he hurried his steps to catch up with Poppy, confused by her reaction and by his own.
The subway ride back to Poppy’s apartment building was as silent as their first trip. Killian attempted conversation a couple of times, but Poppy was lost in her own thoughts and unwilling to do much more than give him a one-word response. Eventually he just gave up, getting lost in his own thoughts.
He still wasn’t quite sure what had triggered this coolness in Poppy. They’d actually had a nice lunch, but once again, he’d said something that ended up pushing her away.
As before, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d said that had been so offensive. Relating to people was hard work.
“I hope you found some places to research today,” she said as the old elevator shimmied and shook, taking them up to her floor.
“I did.” He struggled to find something to say that would possibly smooth things over between them. But nothing came to mind. Damn, he wanted his powers back.
She nodded as if she didn’t know what else to say either. The metal doors shuddered open and she stepped out.
“Have a good afternoon,” she said with an aloof nod, and before he could think of what else to say, the elevator doors closed again, leaving him staring at his own bleary reflection in the scratched metal.
He remained that way until the elevator jerked to a stop again and the doors parted. Automatically, he stepped out, then stood there, trying to decide what to do next.
Was this even the right floor for the awful apartment he was staying in? He couldn’t remember. He looked left, then right, and was trying to decide what to do when he heard voices coming towards him.
Seconds later, three familiar faces appeared.
“What are you doing back?” Daisy asked, surprise and then dismay flashing in dark eyes so very much like her older sister’s. He’d seen both these emotions from Poppy too.
“Were you mean?” Daisy asked.
“No,” he said, not quite keeping the defensiveness out of his tone. Apparently, he had been, although he didn’t know how. “Your sister just wanted to come home to work.”
Daisy gave him an unconvinced look. “If she had been having fun, she wouldn’t have been thinking of work.”
Killian supposed he couldn’t argue with that.
“She’s not that easy to befriend,” he admitted.
“I told you that.”
“Yes, you did,” he said. “So what’s the next move in this master plan of yours?”
Daisy looked at her friends. Madison shrugged with her usual boredom. Emma looked pained—a common look for her too.
“What did you say to her right before she decided she wanted to come home?” Madison asked, revealing that her lack of interest was feigned.
“I told her I was hoping to settle down.”
All three girls looked at him as if he was mad.
“And I asked her if she’d help me meet women,” he added by way of clarification.
“You do remember that you’re supposed to be finding
“Yes,” he said. “I’m well aware of that. I told her that so she’d go with me to meet people. I mean how else am I going to find this man for her?”
“It’s not a bad plan, really,” Emma said, then glanced at her friends to see if they’d reprimand her for agreeing with him.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Daisy said. “But what ticked her off?”
Killian relayed the story of their lunch and how well things were going until the moment when Poppy pointed out the blonde, who’d been watching them.
“And I simply said I didn’t want that woman, because she was blond.”
All three girls stared at him, speechless for several seconds. Only Emma showed any emotion as she touched her fingers to her hair, clearly feeling a little self-conscious about her own blond curls.
“Wow,” Madison finally said, shaking her head.
Killian frowned, still not sure why his comment was so awful.
“That is pretty bad,” Daisy agreed.
He shook his head, waiting for them to explain.
“You kind of sound like a jerk,” Madison said.
“And super shallow,” Daisy added.
“That’s rude,” Emma said, her voice barely above a whisper, still watching him with large, wary eyes.
“Why?” he asked.
They gaped at him like he was an utter moron. He was starting to think maybe he was.
“Because now Poppy thinks you would not date a whole group of women solely based on their hair color. That doesn’t make you very likeable,” Daisy said.
“Why would she care? She’s not blond.” He still couldn’t see why it should matter to her.
“Like Daisy said, shallow, dude,” Madison said.
Killian considered that. He supposed it did make him seem a little shallow. Poppy definitely didn’t seem like the type of woman to respect someone who was so superficial. Not that he needed her respect. That didn’t matter. At all. The only reason her reaction was bothering him was because he needed her to like him enough to hang out with him.
That was the sole reason he was concerned with her irritation.
“Okay, so how do I fix it?” he asked.
“You don’t,” Daisy said, moving to punch the down button for the elevator. “You go back to Mrs. Maloney’s apartment and let us fix this.”
The elevator opened and the girls piled in, while Killian just stood there, wondering yet again how he’d ended up in this ridiculous situation.
“Wait,” he called just as the doors started to slide shut, “where is Mrs. Maloney’s apartment?”
Daisy’s answer was nothing more than muffled noise.
He looked around him again, pretty much back to the same predicament he’d been in before the girls appeared. He surveyed his surroundings again, hoping to recall something familiar.
Nothing.
Sighing, he plunked down into one of the worn, waiting-room-style chairs in the hallway across from the elevator.
“Great.”
CHAPTER 8
“Why would the spell conjure this dude?” Madison said. “He’s pretty much a tool.”
Daisy shrugged. She was beginning to wonder that herself.
“He doesn’t know anything about true love,” Emma said, shaking her head.
No, he didn’t. That much Daisy was very certain about.
