Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Poppy’s quiet as she slides into the chair, her gaze skimming the castle spread across the table between us. Her eyes pause on the drawbridge I’ve rebuilt three times already, then flick up to me.
“Serious question,” she says, voice soft but teasing. “Does this castle have a guest suite or nah?”
I huff a laugh. “No moat, no guest suite. I’m working with a limited kit here.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“You’re really good at this,” she murmurs, reaching for a few bricks. “I haven’t touched LEGOs since I was a kid.”
“Occupational hazard,” I mutter.
She tilts her head. “Of being a hockey player?”
“No,” I say, clearing my throat. “Of needing something to focus on.” Helps with the anxiety.
Her brows lift. She doesn’t press, which I appreciate.
Instead, she holds up a tiny flag. “Where does this go?”
Poppy toys with a minifig, turning it over in her hand. Her hair falls forward as she studies it, and I have the irrational urge to brush it back behind her ear.
“Do you want to talk about last night?” she asks suddenly.
My heart skips.
I glance up. “Do you?”
She shakes her head quickly. “Nope. Definitely not. Just… wondering if you did.”
I smile. “Then we won’t.”
Her shoulders relax slightly.
We fall into a comfortable silence. Her fingers fidget with the plastic bricks. My eyes keep flicking toward her lips.
“Do you want anything?” she finally asks. “Coffee or a snack? I was thinking about chips and guac.”
My head gives a small shake. “I’m good, but thanks.”
More silence.
She’s tapping a flat brick on the table now, gently, like she’s building up the courage to say something else. Her fingers are quick and capable—nails short and painted a soft pink.
Not that I’m staring.
I clear my throat and glance back down at the LEGO instructions like I suddenly forgot how a drawbridge works. “So, you said you work in IT?”
Her head lifts, eyes meeting mine. “Yeah.”
“You don’t look like someone who works in IT.”
“Thanks?” she says with a laugh, raising a brow. “Not nerdy enough?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not nearly nerdy enough.”
“Well. You don’t look like someone who does LEGOS.”
“Touché.” I flash her a grin. “So what does IT mean exactly? Besides you being smarter than me?”
“I do cyber security and systems for a logistics company. It’s… I spend my days outsmarting digital criminals.” Poppy laughs. “I like solving problems.”
“Yeah?” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “So, if I forgot the Wi-Fi password, you’d be able to save me?”
“First of all,” she says, dry as toast. “Your Wi-Fi password—MassiveBalls69—is taped to the fridge. Second, yes. I could hack your mainframe.”
Hack my mainframe?
I laugh. “Wow. Sexy.”
She grins. “What can I say? I’m the whole package.”
I pick up another piece and try to focus. “I should hire you to fix my email filters. I’m getting spam from Nigerian princesses.”
She laughs again, leaning back in the dining room chair, the tension between us easing. “Only if you promise not to walk in on me while I’m doing it.”
Why is she so fucking clever?
I would blush, but don’t want to stoop to that level.
Instead, I click a tiny green shrub onto the baseplate, glancing up at her, forcing my voice to stay neutral. “Did you leave someone behind in Florida?”
Her brow lifts. “Like—a boyfriend?”
I shrug, feigning nonchalance even though I feel anything but. “Yeah.”
She lets out a soft snort and shakes her head. “Nope. No one worth mentioning.”
No one worth mentioning.
I don’t know why those four words fill me with relief. Like a balloon inflating in my chest.
“Oh,” I say. “That’s surprising.”
“Why?” She narrows her eyes playfully. “Because I seem so emotionally available?”
“No.” I chuckle. “Because you’re smart. Gorgeous. Successful. And I assume you’re relatively normal.”
“Define normal,” she shoots back, lifting her glass of water but not drinking from it. “Because I’ve cried in the Trader Joe’s parking lot more than once when they didn’t have my favorite orange chicken.”
God, I like her.
Really, really fucking like her.
Poppy fiddles with a bag of white LEGOs, picking at the plastic. “I would never have moved had I been in a relationship, unless he was moving with me. So this is a clean slate. New city, new job. House full of hot hockey players…”
Ha! “There’s only one hot hockey player in this house.”
She grins over her glass. “You’re right. Luca is amazing.”
“Jeez,” I groan. “Direct hit.”
“I’m teasing, you’re all adorable.” She laughs, full-on this time. Something about the sound sets fire to my bloodstream.
“I knew it,” I mutter. “You came here to destroy me.”
Her eyes sparkle as she leans forward, resting her elbows on the table, fingers still buried in my bag of LEGOs like she’s mining for treasure. “I didn’t come here to destroy you. That part is a happy accident.”
Nova never said anything about her best friend being a clever beast; all she told was she didn’t cause drama, kept to herself, and worked a ton.