Lost E-Book

Scarlett Finn

• Herausgeber: Moriona Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

When Grammie Marigold tells Poppy Granger to run, to flee and be free, Poppy doesn't hesitate.


Poppy only recognized the moment after Marigold put a spotlight on it. Freedom. She had a chance. A brief flicker of time to get out there and live in the real world.

If there was one thing Grammie Marigold believed in above everything else, it was love. Real love. True love. Love that didn't care about her fortune. Didn't care about status or society or opinion.


After what just happened at the altar during her sister's wedding, Poppy is the scarlet woman. The outcast. The one everyone will whisper about.

Rather than sticking around to be sneered at, Poppy takes Grammie's advice and ventures out into the world. The real world. The one far from the family name and expectation.


Poppy doesn't believe she'll find her Prince Charming on the city streets, all she wants to do is live. Life, as it turns out, has its own ideas and what's supposed to be a simple apartment hunt turns into a reality she wasn't expecting.


Warning: Contains explicit language and imagery. Suitable only for ages 18 and over.


Excerpt from Lost...

"Damn, that voice," he said, moistening his lips that were so close to hers she could almost feel the sweep of his tongue. "Do you know how hard it is to walk away from that voice?"

"About as hard as it is for me to keep my clothes on right now." Bold was one thing, but brazen? That was new. But Poppy liked it and didn't feel like she had to apologize, not with Turner. "You can walk away from my kiss... would it be so easy to walk away if I was naked?"

Like the prospect enticed him so much he was unable to resist, his hand jumped to her breast, squeezing her over her clothes, thrusting her back against the window. 

Digging her nails into his shoulder, Poppy pulled herself higher, arching into the rough caress as her eyes closed. 

"Shit, baby," he groaned.

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2020 Scarlett Finn

Published by Moriona Press 2020

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

First published in 2020

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form on by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

www.scarlettfinn.com

LOST & FOUND

Lost

Found

Read them in order for maximized reading pleasure.

For other titles from Scarlett Finn, please read on after the story.

Click here if you’d like to leave a message for Scarlett.

Enjoy!

Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

ONE

I do.

Those were the words the groom was supposed to say.

Bridesmaid Poppy Granger stood behind her sister, wondering why there was a hold up.

For two years, her sister Violet had been planning the wedding of the century. The dream event was the envy of all her friends. Whether married or single, society’s darlings held their breath, waiting for Holden Abernathy, multibillionaire, to say “I do” to Violet Granger.

I do.

It was really simple… so why the hell was the groom just standing there looking at her?

Holden’s gaze flicked away from her to land on his bride. “I’m sorry, Violet,” he said, filled with contrition. “I can’t marry you.”

A collective gasp of horror—mixed with perhaps a little delight—went around the church… Well, it was more like a cathedral in her opinion, though she’d been corrected on that point more than once. The building was huge and ornate. Filling it hadn’t been a problem when there were so many people eager to witness the match happen in real time. No one could’ve predicted the turn of events.

“Wha… what?” Violet asked.

Poppy’s heart went out to her. It couldn’t be easy to be jilted and that was exactly what was happening. Primrose, Poppy’s other sister, grabbed for her arm. They stood there, just two of many bridesmaids her sister had chosen to line up behind her, watching the moment unfold.

Maybe five hundred guests was seeming a little excessive now. She’d said it upon seeing the guest list for the first time. Then she’d shrugged it off. Even Poppy couldn’t have foreseen Holden’s last second change of heart.

“I’m sorry, Violet,” Holden said. “I can’t marry you.”

It took Violet another few seconds to locate her voice again. “You can’t… why not?”

Poppy couldn’t blame her sister for being exasperated. The asshole had plenty of chances to back out of the deal. Choosing that platform, practically on a stage, elevated in front of all their peers… yeah, asshole was an understatement.

“Because I’m in love with your sister.”

Poppy’s eyes widened as another gasp seized the room. Her instinct brought her focus around to Primrose who was staring right back, just as shocked.

“What the hell did you do?” Poppy whispered to Primrose.

Primrose and Violet were known for being competitive, but going for the same guy? Even Poppy wouldn’t have thought it of them.

“Me?” Primrose shrieked. “He’s looking at you!”

Poppy’s head snapped around to find that, yeah, Primrose wasn’t wrong.

“What?” Poppy asked in a burst of shock. “Me?”

“Poppy,” Holden said, stepping around Violet. “For years I’ve been watching you… seeing you bloom into an incredible woman—”

“Whoa,” she said, thrusting her bouquet his way, preventing him from getting too near. “That’s close enough. You’re marrying my sister.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “How can I do that when I feel this way about you? I didn’t know love could be so… overwhelming. So powerful in its draw. Yes, I should marry Violet, she’s the eldest, the closest thing your father has to an heir.”

“That’s what this was about?” Poppy snapped. “Money?”

“Everything is about money,” someone in the congregation muttered… someone who sounded an awful lot like her grandmother.

“Not with you,” Holden said, trying to come closer again. “With you, it’s all love, it’s all real.”

Poppy thrust the bridal bouquet toward him, pairing it with her own. Violet had handed her the flowers as she reached the altar just a few minutes ago. Her sister’s life had a path then, a glorious, optimistic path.

That path was crumbling fast.

“How could you do this to me?” Violet yelped and dashed up the aisle she’d glided down not too long ago.

Watching the cloud of silk and lace recede down the middle of the room through the sea of gawkers, Poppy was at a loss. Rooted to the spot, she couldn’t move even when the other bridesmaids started to disappear after the bride.

Her father was quick to leap up too. He grabbed for his mother and his wife, giving both of them a push to go after Violet. The room was alive. People were standing up, reaching over each other, talking, speculating.

Poppy just stayed there. Completely stunned.

Someone touched her, tearing her out of the daze. The man with his hand on her arm filled her with anger: Holden. Yanking it away from his entitled grip, Poppy threw the flowers to the floor. She didn’t even think before pulling back her fist and bringing it around to smack that disgusting glow of hope from his smiling face.

Whatever he thought there was to smile about, he was mistaken.

Leaping from her perch, Poppy ran up the aisle, darting around anyone who tried to reach out or get in her way.

There were several rooms off the long vestibule beyond the double doors she burst through. Her grandmother, Marigold Granger, stood outside one.

“Come here,” Marigold said, opening the door and gesturing her over.

She and her grandmother had always been bonded. It bothered her sisters sometimes, but Poppy was grateful for it. Especially then. She’d need an ally.

Poppy assumed her family were inside, except the narrow room was empty, of people anyway. There were tables and chairs and all sorts of other furniture piled up at the back of the space like it was a storage area.

“What are we doing in here?” Poppy asked, spinning around just as her grandmother closed the door. “Where is everyone?”

“This will be a story,” Marigold said, coming over to take her arms. “He’s one of the richest men in the country. And he left his bride at the altar for her sister.”

“Nothing has ever happened between us,” Poppy said, her insistence becoming disgust. “I would never… Holden is Violet’s.”

Even if he wasn’t, Poppy wouldn’t want him.

“Are you sure about that?” her grandmother asked, inspecting her gaze. “Because it seems he’s yours for the taking. If you want him, you have to follow your heart.”

“My…” She exhaled. “Geez, Grammie, of everyone, I would think you would believe me. Why would I want a man like Holden?”

Marigold’s smile was slow. “Just checking you’re still the girl I raised.” Poppy rolled her eyes. “You’ve always been a determined girl. Since you were little. People called you precocious. Some thought you were rude… I always prayed you’d keep that fire; that you would never force yourself into their mold.”

“You do know the money is yours right?” Poppy asked. “That we have all this… the big fancy house, the company, the society, the possessions… because of you.”

“And some say it was my decision to marry your grandfather that sent my mother to an early grave. That mold belongs to the Adlers, not the Grangers.”

Poppy smiled. Her grandmother was born an Adler, but married a Granger, much to everyone’s outrage. The story of her grandparents’ courtship always brightened Poppy’s mood. Her grandfather was the groundskeeper’s apprentice. Dallying with the prestigious Adler family was forbidden for the help, especially back then.

Still, Marigold hadn’t hesitated. She’d followed her heart, going so far as to shun her family to run away with her love. It took years for her to reconcile with the Adler family. Marigold married her love, William Granger, without hesitation and only heard from her mother again after the news of her pregnancy reached the Adler Estate.

“I don’t want to marry Holden,” Poppy said. “I’ve never met anyone I want to marry.”

“And that’s why you have to leave.”

Shocked, Poppy’s mouth opened. “What?”

Marigold kept on smiling. “You’ll make it out there, Tot. You’ll love it.” She sighed and cupped her granddaughter’s face. “You haven’t been happy on the estate for a long time.”

Sometimes Poppy wondered if she ever had been. “Leaving will be a sign of guilt.”

Marigold raised her chin and took both of her hands. “They’ll believe you’re guilty anyway.” A sad truth. “The media. Society. They’ll believe you led him on… It’s not fair, but it’s always the way. It’s always the fault of the female.” Not a truth that Poppy liked to face, though it wasn’t one she could refute. “And your sister will bleed this for all it’s worth.”

It only took her a second to smile. Usually, her grandmother wasn’t so overt in her judgement of the spoiled Violet.

“Father would never let me leave.”

“Your father isn’t here,” Marigold said, letting go of her to remove her own earrings and necklace.

“What are you doing?” Poppy asked when her grandmother put the jewelry in her hands.

Marigold took off her bracelet and gave her that too. “It will get you started. I don’t have any cash and they’ll trace cards.”

“Grammie, I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can,” she said, holding up her hand to show the wedding and engagement rings on her finger. “You come back to me when you find someone worthy of giving this to you.”

“Grammie…”

“It’s okay,” Marigold said, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll take care of what I can here. You need to get away before the circus begins. There’s probably footage from inside.” Damnit, maybe she should’ve thought about that before punching Holden. “You call though… I won’t tell your parents, your siblings… You call me as soon as you stop somewhere. Don’t hesitate to call if you’re in trouble. If you need something and not—”

“Grammie,” Poppy said, leaning away from their hug. “Thank you.”

Someone had to cut the bonds that were pulling her down, dampening her spirit. Somehow, her grandmother had seen that and was freeing her. It was a debt Poppy wouldn’t be able to repay anytime soon.

“Take risks,” her grandmother said, drawing her into another hug. “Don’t be afraid to jump in, to throw yourself into anything that excites your heart and soul. Grab those chances with both hands. You have to risk your heart to love the way you deserve… It’s supposed to hurt. Let it reach down deep inside of you.”

Poppy wasn’t so eager to find love. Her grandparents’ relationship was a great love. Since his death, her grandmother hadn’t looked at another man and had never taken off her rings. When she’d been a little girl, hearing her grandmother’s stories of them together, Poppy had made a promise to never, ever even consider marriage unless she loved like that.

It had never happened. She didn’t hold out much hope that it would. But she did want to be free of her family’s constraints. To live life, to experience something that wasn’t Granger dictated. To be someone other than the youngest Granger sister. Could she make it on her own? Stand on her own two feet? Being out there alone was the only way to find out.

Poppy could hear the rumble of the gossip mill getting going when she left her grandmother alone. Her family were in one of the other rooms. She could seek them out if she wanted to, but that would mean giving up the opportunity to be free. It would also mean facing whatever society and the media wanted to throw at her. And Poppy couldn’t be sure that Violet would be open to listening to reason.

Pausing to look back toward the altar, she saw Holden up there, on the phone, his back to the masses. Turning the other way, to the door into the world, Poppy made her choice: it was time to go.

Her grandmother’s jewelry was still in her palm, so she was grateful her dress was tea-length and not catching at her feet. Though the full tulle skirt made her easy to spot, which was a downside. Especially if the media got in before she got out.

Getting outside was only half the battle. The grounds of the church stretched in every direction; it was a long walk just to get back onto the main road. Walking that way would probably lead her straight into the path of the press who’d be racing for the scoop.

As far as she knew, there was security around the perimeter keeping the picture hounds out. But would they be able to control the inside and outside simultaneously? People from the congregation would have cameras on their phones. Their tale would fetch so much more if there were pictures, or video, to go with it.

On arrival, cars could draw up to the front of the building. They then looped around to park in a side parking lot. Near to that area, a few guys were mulling around.

Clutching the jewelry, Poppy started toward them. “I need a ride.” The guys stopped talking to look her way. “Please, can anyone take me away from here?”

They all looked at each other, but no one was quick to step forward. Figuring there might be someone in the actual parking lot more receptive to helping, Poppy didn’t let their lack of a response slow her down. There were a whole bunch of cars parked around there, someone had to be interested in helping her.

The men, who still hadn’t said a word, parted to allow her through their huddle. Determined, just like her grandmother said, Poppy held onto her fire and forged on. She was right that there were others around the side of the building. Those closest appeared much the same as the group she’d seen around front. Realizing that the men in suits and uniforms would be in the permanent employ of the socialites, they’d be unlikely to risk their positions, and their regular income, for her. So she cast her attention elsewhere. At the other end of the parking area was a group of slightly less tailored individuals.

Setting her sights on them, Poppy strode down the golden gravel to approach. As she got closer, she registered two men and two women. One of the guys was smoking and the younger of the two women was sitting on top of a short statue by a wooden door.

As Poppy approached, all of them stopped talking to look at her. Rather than the blank expressions of the other men, these people seemed wary.

“Hello,” she said, hoping confidence and a smile would go a long way. “I need some help.” She stopped walking, but didn’t receive any acknowledgement. “I need a ride out of here.”

“You the one screwing the groom?” the older of the two guys asked.

“No,” Poppy said, reminding herself that a groan wouldn’t ingratiate her. “Definitely not doing that… Can someone give me a ride?”

Glancing at the vehicles nearest to them, she noticed a small wooden sign driven into the grass at the edge of the gravel, which stated “employee parking.”

“Where you headed?” the guy asked.

“Anywhere,” she said. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Well, we’ve got work to do here,” he said. “You hang around a few hours and we’ll—”

“No,” she said. “I really need to go now…” Hesitating, she caught her lip in her teeth as she considered the options. “I can pay you.”

The guy’s brows went up and he looked around at the others. “Yeah? What you gotta pay with?”

No cash, if that’s what he was hoping. The diamonds of her grandmother’s jewelry dug into her palm. Instead of giving them the exquisite gems, she shook her head to highlight the sparkle of her earrings.

“Take me to the nearest pawn shop, you won’t be disappointed.”

The older guy prodded the younger one. “Keep an eye on things. I’ll be back later.”

She had a ride. Progress. Even if it was slow, Poppy had to appreciate every increment. One step at a time was the only way she’d get through.

TWO

Getting a job answering customer service calls for an online shopping company was a great leap forward. A job meant earning money. But still living in a hotel, Poppy was spending faster than she could earn. Trying to find an apartment was next on her agenda. Actually, it had been for a while. With each day that passed, she became more desperate.

It had been a month since she’d walked away from Violet’s wedding. A month of living in a hotel, and not a cheap one. Her job hunt hadn’t been straightforward either. Few people had a need for a classical pianist and she wasn’t about to start trying to make a name for herself. Music had been her passion as a child, studying and performing gave her something to do, but she’d never loved it enough to dedicate herself to the craft like a true professional would.

As far as family went, so far, she’d only spoken to her grandmother. From what she’d heard about home, that was a reprieve. Things weren’t going well. Everyone was at each other’s throats. Holden was still hanging around. Her parents were at their wits end. Primrose and Violet were terrorizing each other much more than usual too. Everyone wanted to know where she was, but Marigold was keeping quiet.

Poppy got the impression her grandmother might be enjoying the drama a little. She definitely enjoyed living vicariously. Every time they talked, her Grammie wanted to hear all about her new life. To hear about where she’d been… and who she’d met.

Thus far, her father hadn’t put a lot of effort into looking for her. Grammie was holding the reins on that one without a doubt. If he wanted to find her, he could. If he heard that she’d been injured or attacked, it would be much more difficult for Marigold to hold him back. For all his faults, her father was protective of his daughters.

In the breakroom, she scanned the apartment listings in the local paper. Poppy needed something close to work. Something that wasn’t too expensive, but it couldn’t be in a terrible area either. She wanted different experiences, that didn’t mean she wanted to start carrying weapons or worrying about being jumped on her way home.

“Hey, are there car listings in there?”

Glancing up, Poppy saw Charlotte, one of the women on her team, coming around to join her at the table, a vending machine coffee in her hand.

“Uh… yes,” Poppy said, searching for the section. “They’re on the back of this page though. Can I give it to you in just a minute?”

“Sure,” Charlotte said, shrugging as she sat down.

The woman was younger than her, beautiful and bright with a blonde, pink dip-dye thing going on. Having only worked there a couple of weeks, Poppy hadn’t had the time to make friends with anyone, but Charlotte made an impression, even from across their team’s open plan work area.

“I won’t be long.”

“What are you looking for?” Charlotte asked, pushing up from her seat a little to peek over the table.

“Somewhere to live,” Poppy said. “Why do you need a car? Do you live far away?”

“It’s a long story,” Charlotte said, sinking into her seat, sipping her coffee. “What kind of place are you looking for?”

“Somewhere cheap,” Poppy said, taking a deep breath. “And close to work… ish. I don’t mind walking so long as I don’t have to worry about getting mugged on the way home.”

She was still reading so missed Charlotte lunging across the table until her hand landed flat in the middle of the page Poppy was reading.

“Look no more,” the young woman declared. “I know the perfect place! Perfect. Perfect.”

Poppy’s brows rose. “You do?” she asked, surprised a colleague would make such an offer.

“Sure,” Charlotte said, grabbing an abandoned pen from the table to jot something down on the corner of the newspaper. “This is the address. Go straight up to the fifth floor. Just ignore the no entry sign and head for the sound of the radio… or power tools.”

Poppy wasn’t sure she followed. “Power tools?”

Charlotte was careful about tearing off the corner of the paper to present her the address. “Trust me. You won’t find a fairer or safer landlord.” Poppy reached for the proffered paper, Charlotte’s fingers flicked back to hold it just out of her reach. “Sometimes he’s grumpy… it’s just his way.” She grinned. “Push past it, don’t let him dismiss you. It’s always better when he knows his mood doesn’t put you off. He likes determined women.”

Taking the piece of paper, Poppy couldn’t deny her curiosity. A fair landlord was something she hadn’t considered. Now that the point had been raised, she liked it.

Fair and safe, she couldn’t ask for more.

Maybe it was curiosity that took her to the address after work. Desperation was an equal motive.

Cashing in most of her and her grandmother’s jewelry gave Poppy a substantial nest egg. More than most people would have starting out. That didn’t mean she enjoyed squandering it.

The more time she spent away from her family’s estate, the more she loved her independence. Poppy didn’t want the break from her family to be a short-term adventure, she was starting to think about her future. About what kind of future she could build for herself away from the Grangers.

The building on the corner was seven floors high. Outwardly, there was nothing spectacular or repellant about it. Everything seemed to be in good repair. The window treatments on most of the windows suggested tenants, or a landlord, cared about the space. Compared to the other places in her preferred price range, the building before her was better than The Ritz.

When she opened the wood framed front door her stomach flipped. The frosted glass panel was etched with a beautiful design around the building number, so she knew she was in the right place… according to Charlotte’s address anyway.

The Art Deco tile flooring was so gorgeous that she almost didn’t want to tread on it. The nook for the matte brass mail slots was pristine. She loved the dark wood accents too. Going forward, Poppy slid her hand up the beautiful smooth wood of the bannister and paused to look down the long hallway that ran along behind the mailboxes. A burst of light at the end of that space intrigued her. Some part of her wanted to explore what lay in every corner before ascending higher, but being caught snooping wouldn’t make for the best first impression, so she kept on going up.

Given how she’d been raised to be polite and follow rules, Poppy had to fight her natural resistance to stepping over the “no entry” barrier when she reached the fifth floor. It was just a notice attached to some red tape that was tied around the bannister at one end and stuck to the wall at the other.

There were no guards or cameras or guns… as far as she could see. Nothing bad would happen just by stepping over the tape. Still, it was there for a reason. The fifth floor could be dangerous for all she knew. Poppy reminded herself of her decision to take risks. Nothing ventured, nothing gained had never been more apt.

On the other floors, she’d noticed five doors on each. The fifth floor was just the same, though the hallway wasn’t as well kept. The floor looked okay. The boards were bare, but it looked solid enough. The walls weren’t treated either. It didn’t seem there was a lick of paint or wallpaper in sight. There were chips and holes in the plaster, revealing the concrete beneath.

The sound of the music coming from the radio was quiet. Poppy didn’t really think about the fact that she was listening to it as she crept down the hallway, wondering why the décor had been so neglected. It was the abrupt ring of some kind of power tool razing the air that startled her to a halt. The power tool. Right. The radio.

Remembering why she was there, Poppy sidelined her curiosity and followed the sound. It was coming from what had to be one of the apartments. While turning to go through the open door, she was full of confidence. The view inside stole both her poise and her ability to think.

The flip of her stomach at the main door paled in comparison to what it was doing while she gawked at the figure standing fifteen feet away. The guy, and it had to be a guy, was bent over, giving her a saliva-inducing glimpse of quite the ass wrapped in blue jeans. It took a second for her to absorb anything more than that. The jeans were grubby, soft… well-worn. Damn, the man wore them well.

Men didn’t wear jeans where she was from, not as anything other than a novelty. It was all slacks and chinos. Formalwear was more common. Once in a while, if the occasion particularly called for it, a pair of khakis or shorts might sneak in, but they had to be event specific. She couldn’t even remember seeing her father in any kind of sweatpants or denim. He went to the gym, so had to have something appropriate for working out in his closet, but she never saw him like that.

Her mind was still wandering when the sound of the tool stopped. Music. It was the music that snapped her out of her trance. He wasn’t bending over anymore, he was at full, dominating height. His arm moved, the light scrape of his fingers on wood put a smile on her face.

Her eyes actually closed. Was it nuts? The sound reminded her of what her grandmother used to say about her grandfather’s hands being rough. Nothing like her father’s. Marigold always said rough hands were the sign of a man who worked for a living.

The rich scent of sawdust filled her nostrils. It was enchanting. So… unusual. Poppy got lost in it and forgot herself again.

“Where you packing the candy?”

The gruff, unimpressed masculine voice pulled her from her basking. Her eyes popped open to see he was twisted around, examining her. Doing the same in return, she registered the short pencil behind his ear and safety glasses on his head. The scowl pulling at his brow was impossible to miss.

Since she was little, Poppy had been taught about introductions, about first impressions, about always smiling. Girls, women, they should always smile, especially at a first meeting. Unfortunately for her, although the thoughts were darting through her mind, none managed to manifest.

“I… I have no candy,” Poppy said, glancing at the small clutch in her hand. There was barely room in there for her cellphone, let alone anything superfluous like confectionery. “Why would you—”

“I can smell it.”

“Oh,” she said. Thoughts of smiling did encroach again, but they didn’t get further than her brain. Poppy needed all of her available energy to take another step. “My perfume smells sweet, so maybe—”

“Take that and the neat little body back down the stairs,” he said. “I’d think by the look of you that you can read. Guess appearances really can be deceiving.”

He turned away to bend over a little again, snagging something from the tool belt that she only just noticed he was wearing. Another coarse sound vibrated through the air, though Poppy didn’t have any idea what it was.

“Actually, I need to talk to…” He straightened up without going to the trouble of looking at her again. “Whomever is in charge, I suppose. Uh… your boss.”

He tossed something light down onto the workbench and turned around slowly, stopping to fold his arms across the broad chest that was testing the limits of his once-white tee-shirt.

“My boss, huh? What’s the problem?”

“No problem,” she said, fearing he might think she intended to complain about something that might have been his responsibility. “There’s really no problem. I… I need a place to stay… to live.”

“There’s no vacancies here,” he said, turning his back to return to the scraping.

“Please,” she said, taking another step his way. “I’m sure something could be worked out.”

The apartment they were in was empty, in definite need of some love. The floor was covered by lots of large canvas drop cloths, so she couldn’t check its condition. But the walls looked good. Freshly plastered, maybe.

“We don’t do deals like that around here.”

She frowned, unsure exactly what he was getting at. For a second, she thought about giving up, but her grandmother’s words about her fire came back to her just in the nick of time.

Poppy inhaled, inching closer. “This is your place… or it’s your responsibility? You’re the man I’m supposed to speak to.” Maybe she wouldn’t have figured that out if Charlotte hadn’t warned her about his tendency to be moody. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“You didn’t offend no one,” he said, blowing on something. “Careful on your way out, I don’t need a lawsuit.”

“I need somewhere to live,” she said. “This building is within walking distance of my work.”

“Don’t need a life story,” he said. “I just filled the last unit, paperwork’s signed, nothing I can do about it. Sorry, Candy.”

Poppy didn’t need an apology or a nickname, she needed help. “How many buildings do you own?”

Maybe if he had more than one, he could offer her something somewhere else. It might not be as close, but it was worth a shot.

“Just this one.”

Damnit. She sighed and glanced around, considering how long it might take to get the present apartment ready for habitation. “How many people do you have working on fixing the place up?”

“How many you see?”

Surprised, her mouth opened. “You do it yourself? All of it?”

“Yep.” He lowered his voice to mutter, “I’ve got enough mouths to feed as it is.”

Chewing on her lip, Poppy could only admit defeat. The guy couldn’t conjure an apartment out of thin air. Charlotte couldn’t have known he’d just leased his last place.

Still, she was curious, and it wasn’t like she had anything but room service to run off for. “How long does it take you to do each apartment?”

“Depends,” he said, still working.

“On?”

“How many candy-canes come wandering in looking for conversation,” he said then twisted to glare at her. “You need a map to find your way out?”

“I’m curious,” she said, actually adjusting her angle to wander deeper into the room, admiring the light coming from the doors on the left wall. They led to one of the small balconies she’d noticed outside. “You really do all the work yourself?”

“Practice makes perfect,” he said.

Despite the obvious irritation in his voice, she threw a smile over her shoulder before continuing to the window. “Looks to me like you’re pretty good at it… How long have you owned the building?”

“What’s it to you?”

Spinning around, Poppy got a look at the huge workbench he had sat up in the middle of the room. A scary looking circular saw lay not too far away from the length of wood laid out in front of him.

“I could help.”

She’d been looking at the wood, not really thinking, not until he responded.

“Excuse me?” His incredulity was written on his face as well as thick in his tone. “You could what?”

She shrugged. “I’ll stay here. Right here…” Poppy took in the space again. “It has walls and a ceiling… it’s watertight, right? I’ll stay here while you fix it up…”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No one stays anywhere without a lease agreement and I don’t have one that would stand given the condition of the place.”

Yeah, no doubt his official lease agreement suggested the apartment had things like… electrical outlets and maybe even a kitchen… She didn’t see either. Just holes in various places around the room. Probably they’d become something… eventually.

“Come on,” she said, finding her smile again. “What’s the harm? I’ll pay something… reduced rent until the place is up to your lease agreement standard… Then when it is, I’ll sign a lease and pay full rent.”

That would work out for her too. By then Poppy might have actually figured out her future. She’d need something. Something like this guy had, a passion that could become an earner.

“Who you running away from?” he asked, more discerning than before. “Husband? Boyfriend? Bookie?”

“None of the above,” she said, not deterred by his questioning. “I just need a new start… I’m not averse to taking a few risks… or put off by a little dust.”

“A little?” he asked. “How many construction sites you lived on?”

Broadening her smile, she sashayed her way closer to the workbench. “If you’re nice to me, then maybe I’ll answer your personal questions.”

While Poppy was learning the virtues of flirting with a stranger, he didn’t seem as intrigued or as interested.

“No.”

A simple, straightforward answer.

Her smile dropped. “But I—”

“No,” he said, picking up the piece of wood. “You don’t see yourself out this time, I’ll toss you over my shoulder and dump you on the street myself.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, he took his wood and left her standing there alone. He’d disappeared into one of the rooms near the still open front door.

While standing outside on the street, Poppy had been sure that it was going to work out. Just walking into the building felt right; some part of her instinct believed she belonged there. At the time, she hadn’t given it much credence, but that certainty had to be why she felt so dejected.

Maybe this guy had the right idea. It was getting to be that way. If she wanted somewhere to live, she’d have to build it herself. Except it wasn’t like there was a lot of land just lying around in the inner city and she definitely couldn’t afford to buy a whole building.

Poppy was still standing there, staring at nothing, when he reappeared.

“Jesus,” he said, stalking toward her. “I guess you didn’t hear—”

“I’m going,” she said, holding up both hands and veering out of his way to make for the door. “It’s a wonder you get any tenants with that kind of sunny disposition.” The hotel might be upmarket, but it was no replacement for a home. “When Charlotte said grumpy, she really hit the nail on the head.”

“Wait,” he called just as she reached the door. Glancing over her shoulder, Poppy couldn’t wait to hear his parting words. He loosened on an exhale like he’d been holding his breath. “Damnit, Charley…” The muttering meant nothing to her, yet, the scowl he landed on her was becoming familiar. “Three hundred a month.” Poppy was stunned. “There are no utilities up here, no phone, no internet. There isn’t a kitchen and the only electrical outlets that work are in the hallway.”

Her insides began to jump up and down, but she tried to dampen her enthusiasm. “Two hundred.”

His brows rose. “Two fifty and you don’t bring anyone up here.” She smiled. “This is strictly off the books, Candy. You try to take me to court for anything and I’ll deny you ever set foot in the building.”

Ecstatic, it wasn’t easy to restrain the excitement that fought to bubble out of her.

Striding to him, Poppy extended a hand. “Deal.”

“You’ve gotta give me forty-eight hours to deal with the plumbing.”

“But I can stay here in the meantime?” she asked, her empty hand still hanging there between them.

His brow clamped down. “What if you have to pee?”

“I’ll hold it and go at work,” she said.

“And shower?”

“There are showers at work too,” she said. “Or there’s the gym. I go as often as I can, they have showers…” He didn’t seem swayed. “I’m only paid up where I am through tonight.”

Paying for another night was an option. Making a clean break would be better. Although Poppy didn’t know it for sure, it wouldn’t be unlike her grandmother to have spies keeping an eye on her. Hotel employees, even security guys wouldn’t have a chance of spying on her in her new building.

Until she had a place of her own, no matter the state of it, Poppy wouldn’t feel like she was really starting her new life.

“You’ll freeze up here.”

“I’m warm-blooded.” He didn’t seem convinced. “I’ll buy a blanket… please.”

For a second, there was a silent, tense stand-off. No matter his objection, Poppy would come up with an answer. Determination was important to him and to her too. Making it in the real world meant overcoming the obstacles, not surrendering to them.

“What time do you finish work tomorrow?” he asked.

Poppy was still getting used to living life working changing shifts. “Uh, I’m on second shift for the next four days and then off for three. So I finish at nine tomorrow night.”

“You got a lot of shit?” Swearing was something she was still getting used to hearing more in daily conversation too. She shook her head. “You can drop it off here in the morning before your shift. I have a few things in storage downstairs, I’ll set them up in here to get you started.”

Poppy took a turn at being incredulous. “You will?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, whatever. You need help?”

“Help?” she asked, unsure what he meant.

“Hauling your shit. You got a boyfriend or a… whoever to help you out?”

Again, she shook her head. “There’s nothing heavy. Just one bag really.”

His eyes narrowed. “Still gonna tell me you’re not running from something?”

Considering what she should tell him, Poppy’s eyes rose to their top corners. A smile tugged at her lips. “If you’re nice to me, then maybe I’ll answer your personal questions.” She thrust her hand higher. “Will you shake my hand, so I know we have a deal?”

“No,” he said without apology as he turned to walk away. “My word is my bond and I don’t give it lightly.”

“Then how do I know we have a deal?”

“Because I say we do,” he said, returning to his workbench.

“But you won’t shake my hand.”

“No,” he said, casting a dubious eye over her. “The arrangement lasts as long as I say it does… I might throw your ass out in a week.”

Poppy went over to lay both hands on the opposite side of the workbench. “If I pay my rent, you have to let me stay.”

“Without a signature, I don’t have to do anything,” he said, slipping something out of his pocket: a cellphone.

“Why would you throw me out?”

He stopped typing on his phone to look at her again. “Because you irritate me.”

“But I—” The fast, intense eye he laid on her quieted Poppy’s protest. She held up both hands in surrender. “At your pleasure. Understood.”

The apartment might be her base, her home, but it was his workplace. Poppy hadn’t said anything about him only working when she wasn’t there and that wasn’t a request she could make. Technically, she was the intruder, but she’d do her best to be as un-irritating as possible. She was finally making progress and didn’t want to undo it all.

THREE

Because she’d been buying the essentials as needed, Poppy didn’t actually own luggage… not in her new life. So the first thing she had to do the following morning was go shopping for a suitcase. At the same time, she bought a larger purse as well.

Once everything from the hotel was packed and her bill settled, she stopped at the apartment building to drop off her suitcase as her new landlord had suggested. He wasn’t around, so she’d put it inside and gone to work.

For some reason, Charlotte wasn’t at work meaning Poppy couldn’t thank her for the recommendation. Her whole day was somewhat fraught. The purse she’d bought with the suitcase was for the money that, until that day, she’d kept in her hotel room safe. Leaving it in the suitcase in an unattended apartment didn’t seem smart. The purse was her only option. It just meant that she was paranoid about carrying it around all day.

Any sane person would suggest a bank account. The trouble was that they could be traced, like her grandmother said. Through his various contacts, her father would have pull with just about any higher up. Enough pull that if he chose to snoop, he could do it with little effort. Poppy didn’t want her father checking out where she bought her things or how much she was spending on them.

After getting through work, clinging to her purse practically the whole time, Poppy was excited to return somewhere that wasn’t the hotel. She stopped to buy a bottle of wine and was all the way back at the apartment building before it struck her that she had no way to remove the cork.

Even that wouldn’t dull her mood. Poppy had a place to live. Not just any place. It wasn’t like she’d got a standard apartment. She was doing as her grandmother said and embracing new experiences. The apartment wouldn’t be perfect. In fact, she might hate it. But there was something to be said for starting at the bottom.

Most people might have their first apartment in their teens or early twenties. Poppy was twenty-six already, a late starter, maybe, but she was giving it a shot.

As she ascended the stairs from the fourth floor, she realized that the apartment would be dark. Even then it only occurred to her because there was a flashlight propped on the post at the top of the stairs. Standing on its end, shining its light on the ceiling, there was a note taped to it. “Candy.” That was all it said.

She smiled and picked up the flashlight. Her landlord had thought about it. Figuring it might have been smart to trade first names, Poppy decided she’d ask his name the next time she saw him. They’d have to cross paths eventually. For the next three days, she’d be working until nine PM, but then she’d be off for three days. Would he expect her to go out whenever she wasn’t working so he could get on with fixing up the apartment?

With the flashlight focused on the floor, she went through the front door. The light from the room on the left wasn’t even noticeable until the glow of the flashlight moved beyond it.