Page 46 of Halloween Town

And Ruby really didn’t know how to process that. Or how to deal with it.

It was so much easier to believe all men were bastards.

Poppy

Yep, she’d had a sex dream last night. One where Thom pleasured her to the point of insanity, pulling back before she tipped over. Leaving her, when she woke up, horny, irritable, and on edge.

So irritable, horny, and on edge, that even a bit of alone time in the shower hadn’t helped the cause. In fact, it just made everything worse because the robotic, weak orgasm just highlighted how much pleasure Thom had given her in that dark theater last night.

Sitting on the edge of her bed in her childhood bedroom, sunlight pouring in from her sash window, Poppy stared down at her bare feet, trying to untangle her thoughts. She’d lost control last night, fallen into him and what he was doing to her, oblivious to everyone and anything. She’d lost herself in the heat, in his mouth, his clever hands. Her heart started pounding as she recalled how he made her feel.

But on the way home, her brain had switched back on, and she’d slammed on the brakes. Not because she didn’t want him. But because she did. Terrifyingly, recklessly, crazily.

And that was what shook her to her core. She’d run from her wedding because she wasn’t being authentic. To be someone her parents could be proud of—could love—had meant being Benji’s fiancée, working in a job they thought was right for her, being the good, sensible daughter. Making safe choices. But last night, with Thom, she’d shrugged off people-pleaser Poppy and embraced her wild side. In that theater, with Thom, she’d been impulsive, thrill-seeking, demanding, messy, hungry. Free.

She’d been Poppy unrestrained. The thing was, she didn’t know how to embrace being Poppy 2.0. She lifted her head and looked out the window, taking in the bright sunshine and gorgeous day. No matter what had happened last night, she still had to go downstairs and face Thom. Standing up, she walked to her door and yanked it open to find Felony lying across the doorway.

He rolled over, exposing his tummy, and she instantly dropped to her haunches to give him a rub. “How’s your owner this morning, Fel?” she asked him. “Is he good?”

Felony blinked up at her.

“Should I mention last night to him? Say that we got carried away?” she whispered. “Or just pretend it never happened?”

Felony didn’t answer her, the unhelpful creature. When she thought she’d given His Lordship the love he deserved, she stood up, walked to the stairs and made the slowest descent in history.

She needed something more than coffee and less than cocaine. Hopefully, Thom would be working on the house somewhere, and she could sip her morning juice in peace while she found the courage to face him this morning.

Thom, because this was her life, stood in front of the coffee machine, barefoot and dressed in a pair of sleeping shorts and a faded, oft-washed soft blue T-shirt. Sunlight coming in from the massive window behind him turned his hair a deep, dark shade of auburn and picked up lighter flecks in his stubble. Why did his shoulders look broader this morning, and his bicep, when he lifted his hand to scratch his neck, bulge bigger?

He looked like he belonged in this kitchen, in this house.

He smacked the start button on the coffee machine with the side of his hand and gripped the counter on which it stood, dropping his head as if praying it would work faster. Thom seemed to need coffee more than she did, and that was saying something. Then, as if sensing her, he half turned, his smile easy and warm, as if nothing momentous had happened between them last night.

“Hey. Want coffee?” When she nodded, he told her to take a seat. Pulling her feet, bare like his, up onto the seat, she wondered what he’d say next. Would he talk about last night? Ask her whether she’d changed her mind? Kiss her? Demand to know what she was thinking?

God, she hoped not.

Wrapping her arms around her knees, she rested her cheek on her knee and watched as he reached for another cup and placed two dirty cups in the dishwasher. The coffee machine hissed and spluttered, the only sound in the room until Thom spoke again. “Was Fel upstairs with you?”

“Yeah, I gave him a belly rub and left him up there.”

Thom nodded, pulled the cup from the machine and shoved another one under the spout. By her reckoning, she’d have a cup of coffee in front of her in forty-five seconds. She could wait that long, right?

Thom placed the cup in front of her, and she noticed he’d added milk. He drank his coffee black.

It was such a small gesture, giving her the cup he’d made for himself, but something inside of her cracked open. Because he was treating her as he had yesterday and the day before. As his friend, his housemate, as someone he’d known forever and cared for for just as long. As if what he’d given her last night didn’t require payback, or even overthinking. Definitely as if she didn’t owe him a damn thing.

She waited, just in case, he’d say something critical or loaded, but then she realized she was judging him by Benji’s standards. And those had been, let’s be honest, pretty damn low.

“What do you feel like for breakfast?” Thom asked, running his hand over her head before heading back to the coffee machine. “We’re out of eggs. And bread.”

Neither of them was good at remembering to pick up groceries. “Are there any options left?”

“We could go into town and see if we can snag a table at the Night Owl Diner. I feel like waffles and chicken.”

Her mouth started to water. She did, too. But not now.

Later.