Chapter 14 #3
As always, Luna and her minions knew how to throw an event.
The last time Thom was here, at the Lantern Walk, the decorations for the town square had been spookier, darker, more somber.
Tonight, he looked around and it seemed like someone had vomited a rainbow over the square.
As per tradition, or town law, or Luna law, there were the prerequisite lanterns and maniacal pumpkins filled with candles, and fairy lights in the potted shrubs on each corner of the square.
But Luna had found the funds to purchase a high-lumen, professional-grade projector capable of projecting 3-D images on the facade of the town hall, and he was impressed.
Say what you will about Luna, but a display like that required specialized projectors and professional software; Luna and the H-Town leaders were not technologically quaint.
Poppy placed her free hand—her other one was swallowed by his—on her chest, as she watched images of previous Tag she was always full of surprises.
Poppy, still clutching her cards, tucked her hand in his arm and tugged him over to the tree.
Walking around it, she found a free spot and looked up, giving the tree and its branches her full attention.
She stood on her tiptoes and lifted her hand, her fingers just brushing the lowest branch.
“I hate being short,” she muttered, pouting.
He held out his hands for her cards. “I’ll hang them for you,” he offered. “Tell me where you want them.”
She shook her head. “I need to hang them myself; that’s part of the deal,” she said. “You hang them, and you say a little prayer of thanks.” She looked around, her hands on her hips. “They usually have some small ladders available.”
“I saw them on the other side of the tree, and there seemed to be a queue for them.” Thom blew into his hands, thinking that the temperature was dropping. She looked up and saw the clouds covering the moon. “It’s going to rain later.”
Poppy pulled a face. “That’ll stop the ghostbusters from keeping watch.”
Sometimes Poppy used English words but spoke Greek. “What are you talking about?”
She grinned at him. “So, there have been many instances of reports of ghosts tampering with these cards.”
Oh, great, more ghost bullshit. But because H-Town’s ghost stories were always entertaining, he cocked an eyebrow, silently asking Poppy to explain.
“The ghosts move tags from one branch to another, sometimes they scribble on the cards, sometimes they even manage to write whole words. Sometimes, cards are found on the floor.”
He could think of, off the top of his head, at least ten reasonable scenarios explaining how that could happen, the most obvious being that someone returned later to mess with the tree. He told Poppy this, and she shook her head.
“Every year, someone always stays awake to catch someone in the act. Mostly it’s teenagers—” She grinned at his scornful look, and continued.
“But there have been teams of skeptics who’ve stayed up to watch for ghostly shenanigans.
They heard and saw nothing, but the next morning they found the tree had been messed with. ”
Come on…
“One year, a team of paranormal investigators set up cameras and voice recorders and filmed the tree before and after. They watched the tree all night but picked up nothing, but the next morning, cards had been moved and scribbled on.”
All that told him was that humans managed to circumvent the process. Only people, for whatever reason—YouTube ratings, town promotion, pranking—would go to so much effort. As for the ghostbusters, they’d go out of business if they ever caught the perps and exposed them…
He explained this to Poppy, who rolled her eyes and tapped her foot. “Besides,” he added, “if there are ghosts, surely they have better shit to do than mess with a tree?
“As I said, spiritually constipated,” she muttered.
Then she looked up at him the way she always did when she wanted something, and his heart rolled over.
There was also a good chance he’d capture the moon if she asked him to.
“Do you want to test that theory and stay up tonight and watch for ghosts with me?”
Except that. He bent down so that he looked straight into her pleading eyes and shook his head. “No.”
She wrinkled her nose and pulled her tongue at him. “Spoilsport.” Turning away from him, she looked toward the crowds at the front of the tree. “I’m going to go stand in the queue for a ladder.”
He frowned at her. “Why?” Without giving her a chance to answer, he bent his knees, placed his arm around her butt, and lifted her.
“Huh, you do come in handy now and again.”
He jiggled her, and she squealed. “I’m very handy, as you well know.”
She smiled at him, her eyes heating. Dropping a quick kiss on his lips, she whispered against his mouth.
“I very much appreciate your hands. And your mouth. And the rest of you.” Thom swallowed, suddenly feeling very hot in his sheepskin bomber jacket.
He thought about lowering Poppy to kiss her, but then noticed she was looking at the branches, lost in thought.
Right, she wasn’t, like him, thinking about sex.
Poppy told him to move left, then back, and then back some more. While she wasn’t heavy, his arm was starting to feel the strain. Shifting her, he held her with two arms and told her to hurry up. “This can’t be rushed, Thom,” she told him, sounding deadly serious.
Dear God. Thom waited for her to tie one card, and when she did, he looked up and squinted at her writing.
She’d written that she was glad she’d run from the wedding.
Yeah, he was grateful for that, too. Taking out her phone, she snapped the card, leaning backward to take in the branch. “Why?” he asked.
“Because then I have proof that it was moved,” she said, completely seriously.
He thought about telling her that that proved nothing but didn’t bother. Poppy believed ghosts moved the cards, and that was that.
Thom carried her to another branch, and she hung another card—this one with a bullet-pointed list of what she was grateful for; he and Wren were top of her list, along with Luna, Hayes, and Hadley—then snapped a photo. “Done,” she gaily told him.
He let her slide down his body, braking her descent when her lips aligned with his.
Still holding her, he covered her mouth with his, immediately deepening the kiss, unable to get enough of her.
She was sunshine and sweetness, all with a hint of ghost-tinged crazy.
Creative and lovely, loving and absentminded, perfectly, perfectly Poppy.
He freaking adored her.