Page 81 of Pucking Sweet

“By the manner of your parting, you clearly didn’t. What happened?”

She gives a little laugh, shrugging. “I think I just agreed to be her maid of freaking honor.”

Whoa. That’s some Shakespeare-level drama. “You’re gonna be the maid of honor at your sister’s wedding to your ex-fiancé?”

She tugs at her little neck scarf like it’s choking her. “Oh, great. Please, make me feel worse about this.” Getting it loose, she lets it float to the floor.

“Sorry, it’s just…well, why did you do it?” I’m genuinely curious.

“Because she pulled the face!”

“What face?”

“The Violet face,” she says with a distracted wave of her hand. “You know, the sad, pathetic ‘my charmed life is so easy because no one really loves me’ face. Oh man, she’s good. She actually hadmeapologizing toherby the end.” She drags both hands through her hair, leaning against the elevator wall. “God, I am so spineless.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m a freaking jellyfish. I’m a Poppy-fish,” she says with a squeaky laugh. “I’m a pushover.”

“You’re not.Have you met you?”

“With my family? Yes, I am. I’m a people-pleasing, hot freaking mess!”

“Poppy—”

“No, it’s fine.” She fans herself with both hands. Pink blush is rising up her neck to her cheeks. “Honestly, the joke is on her because I’m just gonna plan the most boring bachelorette party of her life!”

I can’t hide my grin. This is my little tiger showing her claws, threatening to plan a party badly on purpose. God, she’s fucking adorable. But then my smile falls. “Wait, you’re throwing her a bachelorette party?”

“The MOH always throws the bachelorette party,” she says, still fanning herself. “And she only gave me like three weeks to plan it, as if I don’t have enough to do running an entire freaking PR department.” She looks up at me. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly. “You’re just…sister of the year.”

Personally, I could never. Both my sisters are happily married, but if one of themeverwent sniffing around one of my exes, it would be game over. Poppy should be given a medal for even considering it.

“Wait.” She glances around, eyes wide. “Why aren’t we moving?”

Shit, for a moment, I forgot we were in an elevator. I glance over at the control panel. “Neither of us pressed a button for a floor.”

She jabs the number four with her thumb, and the elevator lurches upward. She clings to the handrail, lips moving as if she’s praying to be delivered from this metal box. I knew her thing about planes, but I thought that was just about flying. It is all small spaces?

I brush her shoulder again. “Poppy, do you have claustrophobia?”

She fakes a laugh. “Don’t be silly—ahh!” The elevator jolts. Her eyes go wide with terror. “What the heck was that?”

I glance around. “Uhh, I don’t—”

The elevator shudders to a stop, making a sound like a machine powering down. Then the bright lights flicker out. The only light left is the soft red glow of an emergency bulb in the ceiling.

“What’s happening?” she cries, stumbling forward to wrap her arms around me. “Why have we stopped?”

“I don’t know—”

“Oh god, are we trapped?”

Placing an arm around her waist, I groan, remembering some of the chatter at practice this morning. “Yeah, so someone might have mentioned they were doing some repairs on the generators today—”

“The freaking generators?!” Her panic morphs into rage as she shoves away from me. “Are you kidding me? I swear to Lucifer, when I get out of here, I am setting those generators on fire so Mark will have to buy new ones! Maybe then they’ll actuallywork, and I can do my freaking job!”

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