“I let him in,” Madison said quickly.
“What? Why?” Poppy asked, but the girl’s answer was interrupted by a groan from behind them.
All heads turned toward the sound.
The man shifted, then fell silent again.
“I’ve got to call the police,” Poppy said. She wanted answers from these girls, but right now that was the best course of action.
“No,” Daisy said, then to Poppy’s surprise walked back to the man. “You can’t do that.”
Poppy watched in amazement as Madison joined Daisy. Only Emma lingered with Poppy.
“Okay, explain why a stranger is in my apartment,” Poppy said. “Now.”
All the girls answered at once.
“He’s not a stranger.”
“We all let him in.”
“Don’t call the cops.”
“And what if he’s really hurt?”
“Demon? I didn’t say demon.”
Poppy raised a hand, overwhelmed by the rush of remarks. She joined them and they stood in a circle, all staring at him.
“One at a time,” she said slowly. “Who is he?”
There was a slight pause, then Daisy said, “He’s Madison’s cousin.”
Madison’s head snapped in Daisy’s direction and something passed wordlessly between them.
Then Madison looked at Poppy and nodded, her gray-blue eyes wide. “Yeah, he’s my cousin.”
“Really?” Poppy knew something here didn’t add up. But why would they let this guy in otherwise? Daisy and her friends had never been the type of kids to do dangerous or stupid things. Well Madison … maybe. But overall, even she was a good, sensible kid.
Poppy glanced at Emma, who stared down at the man like he was in fact a … what had she called him? A demon?
“He texted me,” Madison said slowly, but then picked up speed as she talked, “to let me know he was here and to get the keys to my place. You know, because Mom’s at work.”
Madison’s mother was divorced and a nurse. Poppy knew she was working night shifts this weekend, part of why Madison was spending the night with them. But it seemed strange Madison’s mother hadn’t mentioned a family member coming into town.
Poppy glanced from girl to girl. Daisy nodded in agreement with Madison’s story. Madison nodded too. And Emma looked from the man to Poppy, then back to the floor. She toed a candy gummy fish with her fluffy, rainbow- colored slipper.
The man groaned again and this time flipped over onto his back. Emma squealed, and all the girls jumped back. Including Poppy.
But after the initial movement, he fell motionless again, his eyes closed, his arms flung back above his head.
Poppy stepped closer, for the first time really seeing the man. He was quite amazingly handsome, even lying unconscious amid popcorn and candy. His hair was shaggy, with a slight unruly curl to the tips. In the lamplight, it shone somewhere between dark blond and chestnut. His lashes were several shades darker against his pronounced cheekbones. And his mouth was perfectly sculpted, with the upper lip bowed slightly and the lower one just a little fuller.
She managed to tear her gaze away from his face to survey the rest of him.
For the police, she told herself. Although why she’d have to identify a man who was out cold on her floor didn’t make sense. But that was her excuse, and she was sticking to it.
His tall body was covered in dark clothing. Strange-looking clothes. Almost old fashioned in their cut. Poppy was reminded of movies like
Poppy found herself kneeling down to inspect him closer. “Where is he from?”
The girls were silent, and she turned to look up at them. Again Daisy and Madison exchanged looks. Emma continued to poke at the candy with her toe.
“Sweden. He’s from Sweden,” Emma suddenly said, beaming at her friends. Neither girl smiled back. In fact, Daisy looked confused, and Madison frowned, the gesture laced with something akin to disgust.
Emma’s smile faded.
“Yeah,” Madison said after a moment. “He’s from Sweden.”
Nothing in the girls’ agreement made Poppy believe any of them. But again, why would they lie?
“Where—where am I?” a husky voice said from beside her.
Poppy started, whipping back from the man, nearly losing her balance in the process. And making eye contact with him didn’t help her equilibrium. If she’d been aware of his good looks while he was out cold, she couldn’t begin to fathom how handsome he was now that his eyes were open.
Amazing eyes. Heavy lidded. Liquid gold like firelight flickering through a glass of whiskey. Intelligent eyes, despite their languor. Despite the current confusion there.
“You’re in my house,” she finally managed to tell him.
“Who are you?”
“Poppy Reed. The sister of your cousin’s friend.”
“My cousin?”
Poppy pointed to Madison. “Your cousin, Madison Cobb.”
Madison waved at him, offering an awkward smile.
Awkward, Poppy was sure because of the current situation he was in. Lying on a stranger’s floor, wincing at the knot on his head.
As if to validate her thoughts, Madison’s cousin gingerly touched a hand to the back of his head. He glanced at his fingers and, thank God, there was no blood.
“What happened?” He moaned slightly as he struggled to sit up.
Poppy looped an arm around his back to help him. He stiffened slightly as if he was surprised she was touching him. She was surprised too—he was still a stranger in her home.
She braced under his weight, and with the help of Daisy on the other side, they got the man on his feet and to the sofa.
“What happened?” he repeated, again touching his head.
“I’m sorry,” Poppy said. “I—umm, I hit you on the head.”
“With what? A battering ram?”
“No, a candlestick holder. And to be fair, I thought you were an intruder.”
He nodded, seeming to ponder that.
“I don’t think I’m an intruder,” he finally decided. “I was—asked here.”
“Yes. By Madison.” Again she gestured to the girl.
“My cousin?”
Madison smiled at him, but Poppy noticed the gesture looked wan at best. God, the poor girl was probably terrified that her cousin was badly injured. And he might be. Suddenly, Poppy felt terrible that they’d just left him lying on the floor. Unconscious, no less.
Although she
“Maybe we should take you to the doctor,” Poppy said.
“No!” both Daisy and Madison cried.
Poppy frowned. “Why not? I think it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“My mom will look at him. She’ll be home soon,” Madison said. “And she’ll be mad at me, because—because I was supposed to leave a key to our apartment in our mailbox. And I forgot. That’s why he texted. You know, then came here.”
“And