Kathy Love - Truth or Demon

“You know my mom,” Madison said. “Nothing but some breakfast bars and skim milk. I hope it’s okay?”

Poppy started at Madison’s question and realized she was still staring at the man. Manners, Poppy. Especially after last night.

“Of course,” she said, nodding—perhaps a little too vigorously. Which she could only hope was distracting him from the blush burning her cheeks. She was blushing, of course, about the events of the last night. Certainly not because she’d been gaping at him like a mesmerized schoolgirl.

She gestured to the table, an old country kitchen piece that had been her mother’s. Then she busied herself with gathering plates and silverware.

Last night, over hot chocolate, she’d talked to the girls about this man. They hadn’t provided much more information than they had while he was prone on the floor. He was Madison’s cousin. From Sweden. But he’d lived in the States for several years. Apparently in Connecticut. And he was here for work—although she didn’t know what that work was.

The girls had been all fidgety and restless, which she’d chalked up to the crazy events of the evening and copious amounts of soda and candy.

She placed the platter of pancakes in the center of the table, looking at the girls now. They sat around the table, watching the man who remained in the kitchen doorway. And they didn’t look any more relaxed. In fact, they all stared at him like he was a creature from an entirely different world.

She glanced at the object of their attention and supposed she understood their reactions. He was unusually attractive, like he’d tumbled out of an ad for Calvin Klein or some other world where men were tall and muscular with brooding, pouty good looks.

She glanced away from him, busying herself with getting juice glasses down from the cupboard, knocking two of them over as she set them on the table. She didn’t look back at the man—Killian—because well, she was just trying to get the food on the table before everything got cold.

She could definitely see how daunting Killian could be for these young girls. But nothing so earthshaking for a grounded, grown woman such as herself.

She rummaged around the fridge, searching the shelves for the maple syrup.

“Can I help you with anything?”

Poppy started, banging her head on the handle of the freezer as she snapped upright.

“Ouch.”

Hand pressed to the back of her head, she turned to find Killian directly in front of her.

He didn’t smile or offer sympathy, he just regarded her with those sleepy golden eyes. In fact, Poppy got the distinct feeling he didn’t care about her bumped head. Then again, she had hit him last night. Maybe he figured this was a bit of poetic justice.

Then he held out a hand. “I’ll take that for you.”

She looked down, realizing the syrup dangled in her loose grip.

“Um, thanks,” she said, her eyes returning to his. Those almost hypnotic golden eyes.

He accepted the bottle, without a smile. His gaze held hers for a moment longer, then something strange and unreadable flashed there. Something she couldn’t quite understand, though she had the impression he wasn’t pleased.

He strode away, placing the syrup on the table and taking a seat with the girls. Poppy blinked, gathering herself. His odd gaze had left her feeling a little confused, a little unsure of what had just passed between them.

Did he dislike her? She got the feeling he did, and who could blame him after last night?

She joined the others, taking a seat beside Daisy.

“How are you feeling, Killian?” she asked, realizing she probably should have asked that as soon as she saw him. Maybe that was what that look was about

“I’ve been better,” he said, his tone dry.

Oh, no. Had she really injured him?

“Did Ginger think you should see a doctor?”

“Who?” He frowned, then glanced at Daisy.

“My mom,” Madison answered, and smiled at Poppy. “He’s always calls her Gin—Ginny. It’s a childhood nickname.”

Poppy nodded, her attention still on Killian. “So what did she say?”

Again, Killian looked at Daisy, just a quick glance, then he met Poppy’s eyes. “I will be fine.”

That wasn’t exactly the definitive answer she’d been looking for, but she nodded. She lifted the platter of pancakes and offered them to him.

“You should serve yourself first. It’s the least I can do.”

“Yes, the very least.”

Poppy blinked, surprised at the animosity in his voice. “I’m truly sorry I hit you, but I would hope you can understand that I was a woman alone with three teenage girls. And you were a stranger who, as far as I knew, wasn’t welcome.”

Killian speared several of the buttermilk pancakes and slid them onto his plate, all the while meeting her gaze, his expression none too friendly or understanding.

Poppy did feel bad, but she also thought her reaction was justified, given the information she’d had at the time.

“It’s really my fault,” Daisy said, her gaze moving back and forth between the two of them, landing on Poppy. “I should have woken you up to tell you he was coming.”

“That would have kind of ruined your big plan, now wouldn’t it?” Killian muttered, slathering butter on his pancakes as if he had a grudge against them as well.

“What plan?” Poppy was confused. “What was your plan?”

Madison suddenly started coughing, reaching for her glass of juice and knocking it over in her fit. The orange liquid splashed everywhere, but most spattered all over Poppy.

Poppy jumped up, and then the table was abuzz with activity. Madison reached to right her glass. Daisy hurried to get a towel. Emma moved the platter out of the wet mess.

“I’m sorry,” Madison said.

“Don’t worry,” Poppy assured her, tugging at her T-shirt, which clung, cold and sticky, to her skin. “Accidents happen.” She couldn’t stop herself from giving Killian a pointed look.

He was the only one at the table who remained where he sat. He took a bite of his pancake, watching them as if nothing had happened.

“Go change,” Daisy urged, mopping the juice with a dish towel. “We’ll clean this up.”

Poppy nodded, hearing her sister even over the whir of irritation in her head as she watched Killian continuing to chew away, oblivious to the rest of them. He acted as if they were nothing more than the hired help.

She was beginning to feel pretty glad she’d clocked Killian O’Brien. In fact, she kind of felt like doing it again now. She should have known a man that good looking would be a real jerk.

“I’ll be right back.” She tugged at her shirt again, shooting the perfectly blasé Killian a look, which also went unnoticed. She left the room for a dry shirt and a moment to calm her growing temper.

“What are you doing?” Daisy asked as soon as her sister was out of earshot.

Killian finished chewing his pancake, poured some juice, took a sip, then gave the girl his best innocent look.

“I’m eating breakfast.”

Daisy braced both hands on her hips. “You’re supposed to be making friends with her, not arguing with her.”

Killian sighed, affecting his best bored look. “I tried. It’s not going to work.”

“You didn’t try at all,” Madison said.

“I did,” he said, giving a significant look at the bottle of syrup. “I helped.”

Daisy rolled her eyes, then continued. “There’s no point in being difficult. You’re stuck here until the wish is fulfilled. So rather than being a jerk, why don’t you just get to work?”

Killian stared at the girl. Her tone, her speech pattern, sounded remarkably like her older sister, although he wondered how, after such a short time in Poppy’s presence, he could recognize that. He narrowed his eyes, but then returned his attention to his pancakes.