Poppy.

What in SpongeBob's buttcrack did that say?

I blinked my eyes several times, staring at the whiteboard at the front of our conference room, and the chicken scratch with my name beside it.

I was certain that it did not say Bridget's Canyon beside my name.

Turning away from the whiteboard, I turned back quickly, making sure I hadn't misread anything.

Nope. Tommy Crotch Sniffer Thomas, our new editor-in-chief, assigned me the worst story in the town. The mysterious crater that no scientist had figured out since the beginning of time. Which meant that every journalist from here to Timbuktu had written about it.

I balled my fingers into fists and grabbed my notepad, shoving my way out of the conference room and toward his office.

I knew exactly why he gave this assignment to me. Because last Friday at our weekly get-together at Charlie's Pub, he'd hit on me, and I shut it down quickly. I may be stubborn and determined but I was not about sleeping with my boss.

His laughter spilled out from his cracked door, and it crawled under my skin like bed bugs. I kicked his door open wide and walked into his office. His cologne assaulted me, and I nearly choked on it. "Tommy," I said, clearing my throat. "We need to talk."

He glanced over his tiny framed glasses, his beady brown eyes glancing at me. "I'm on the phone," he mouthed, pointing toward his ear.

Angry steam spilled from my ears. "Tommy you have someone here to see you!" I shouted.

He glared at me. "I'll call you back."

Tommy leaned back in his high-backed leather chair and glared at me. "What is so important, Poppy?"

Pressing my mouth into a thin line, I narrowed my dark eyes at him. "I think you know. Did you give me Bridget's Canyon? Seriously, Tommy? What new take could I possibly give that played-out story?"

Tommy gave me an amused grin. "I don't know. I was looking over your resume and I noticed your awards from college. I just figured if anyone could bring it to life that it would be you."

Oh, I felt like Elle Woods.

A newfound determination hit me. If this bastard wanted to go there, we would so go there.

Smiling, I watched Tommy grow completely uncomfortable from my stare. "Are you all right?" he asked. "You look more red than usual."

I could only imagine that I resembled a tomato. Being red-headed, I turned rosy easily, and this joker didn't realize that I was hotter than Dante's Inferno right about now.

"I'm fine," I snapped. "And I'll show you just how valuable Elle Woods can be!"

I left Tommy with a confused look as I stormed toward my office, and grabbed my sunglasses, and my purse, before hurrying from the building.

My best friend Missy's heels click-clacked after me, but I didn't stop my mad exit until I made it to my 2002 CR-V.

"Where is the fire?" she asked, stopping at the hood of my car. She shoved her ebony hair from her shoulders and huffed loudly. "I mean geesh, I thought you were auditioning for the track team or something."

Bracing my palm against the door of my car, I growled loudly. "Tommy gave me Bridget's Canyon."

Missy gasped and swung her purse to the hood of my car. "You're kidding?" she asked, checking her lipstick in her pocket mirror. "What a tool." She slammed her mirror closed. "He tried to get you to come home with him after the party, didn't he?"

I gagged. "Yeah, and I turned him and his baby hands down."

Missy leaned her elbows against the hood of my car. "What are you going to do? The yearly review is coming up next month, and if we don't wow Mr. Thorton, he'll bring in graduates from the journalism department."

I sighed dramatically. "I'm going there now to figure something out. I'll call you when I'm there, maybe you can help me think of a new avenue for this stupid hole in the ground."

Missy lugged her purse over her shoulder and stepped back onto the sidewalk. She pulled her pencil skirt down and put her hands on her hips. "Be careful. I heard some drug deals were going on down there. Oh!" she shouted, but I shook my head.

"I'm not digging into some kind of drug ring, Missy. I enjoy my toes too much for that."

She shrugged. "Good luck."

I drove out of our sleepy mountain town, and toward the canyon, crater, or whatever you wanted to call it. I'd been fascinated by it growing up, but it was short-lived once my dad took me to visit it.

It was a huge hole in the earth. Scientists hadn't been able to make it to the other side to see where it led, and the one person who did attempt it never made it back.

They gave up after several drones disappeared, and one came back severely burned.

This was a useless trip, but I had no choice. I had to come up with something that would put Tommy in his place, and give me at least another year of work at The Voice.

I parked in the empty parking lot adjacent to the crater. Grabbing my keys, I glanced over at our town's attempt at a tourist attraction. It'd been huge back in the early 90s, but now, no one cared about it.

Grabbing my notepad, I walked down the sidewalk that led toward the monstrosity. Birds sang to me from a magnolia tree on top of a hill next to the crater. I tapped my pencil against the notepad and sighed.

A fence separated the sidewalk from the crater, and just to be a rebel, I climbed over it to look inside. It was an endless black void as I imagined.

The rocks from the closest mountain looked similar to the inside of it. I stepped back to the safety of the sidewalk and slammed my fist onto my hip.

I scribbled down: The Forgotten Crater. No one is brave enough to step into Bridget's Canyon.

I crumbled the piece of paper up and shoved it into the pocket of my skirt.

"This is useless," I mumbled, starting back toward my vehicle. I click-clacked down the sidewalk, the end of my heel catching a crack.

I stumbled forward to all fours and cursed under my breath. Turning back to pull out my heel, the ground began to shake.

I froze. We weren't known for earthquakes.

I pulled at my heel harder, finally deciding it wasn't worth it, and ditched it. Hobbling along toward my car, I caught myself on the hood.

A blast of rock and debris shattered around me. I ducked, protecting my head with my forearms, and screamed as a whipping sound almost shattered my eardrums.

My brain went from a fear of an earthquake to a tornado.

Crawling the best I could, using my vehicle as a brace, I grabbed the door handle and dared a glance behind me.

My entire body froze. Despite the wind sending my hair around my shoulders, I could see the source perfectly.

I'll never forget it.

I wanted to call it an 'it,' but it looked so much like a man. It was a man, no doubt. A male.

But he was hovering above the crater, his wingspan large and overwhelming. One, because he had wings at all, and two, because he was staring at me.

His dark hair was speckled with white, but not due to age. He didn't look a day over thirty-five. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his torso rivaled any Marvel character. His fingers were tightened into fists at his sides, and his forearms were coiled and swoon-worthy.

That was just his body.

His face ... Dear God, I needed to look away but I couldn't. My eyes were ogling him like a sixteen-year-old at Chippendales.

My mouth opened to speak but nothing came out. Had I fallen down the crater? Hit my head Yup, that was it. I was dreaming. Who knew my self-conscience was into sexy dragon men? I'd have to venture out to the local bookstore the next time I visited.

That was if there was a next time.

Backing up, I stumbled against the door and struggled to open it.

A smile curled up the side of his face, and I immediately needed a new pair of panties. Pronto. How someone threatening my sanity, and my safety made me horny, I'd never know. It'd been way too long.

His gaze lifted above my head, and just as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared back into the hole.

The wind stopped, and so did my heart. I listened to the sound of an old truck coming down the road, but I didn't wait. I got my ass up, hopped into my vehicle, and with shaky hands drove home.

What in the Hell did I just see?

Poppy.

Dale Earnhardt had nothing on me.

I honestly didn’t think my little CR-V had it in her, but she pulled through.

My tires spun as I pulled into my apartment’s parking lot, and jumped out. My nerves were all over the place, my heart thumped wildly against my ribs, and my neck hurt from staring over my shoulder to see if the thing—man—followed me home.

Not that it actually happened.

I couldn’t let myself believe that it had.

It was a dragon man. They didn’t exist and believing in him put me in the realm with Uncle Joe and his alien talk.

I took the stairs two at a time and fumbled with my keys to my apartment door. My cat, Bingo, greeted me at the door with his usual hiss and followed me as I ran toward my bedroom and sat down on my bed.

Bingo jumped up beside me, most likely feeling my need for comfort, and sat down. I needed comfort all right. I bet the therapist down the street had a comfy loveseat I could sit on.

Sliding my palm over my face, I pulled my vibrating phone from my pocket, not looking at the screen before I answered.

“Poppy,” Jennifer whispered. There was an echo that told me she was hiding in the bathroom at The Voice. “Where are you?”

I chuckled, at first it was humorless, and then it turned hysterical. “Jennifer, I need you to come over here. Now.”

“Uh, Tommy is looking for you. He says you disappeared, and you two need to talk.”

“Tell him I’m sick.”

Jennifer scoffed. “After you stormed out of here pissed off? Yeah right. He’s going to see right through that—,”

“I don’t care! Tell him it’s a fungus. I’m pregnant. I have diarrhea. I was hit by a shooting star. I just need you to come over here.”

Jennifer was silent for a few moments. “What happened? Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” I said exasperatedly. “I would definitely say something is wrong.”

The bathroom stall door shut on the other end. “Okay. I’ll take an early lunch and come over. Do you have anything to eat?”

I scoffed. “I’m the takeout queen. I have leftover sushi.”

“Deal. I’ll see you soon.”

I had the sushi out with a bottle of wine when she made it. I’d already drunk one glass and was on my second when she eyed the kitchen counter. Putting her hands on her hips, she glared at me. “It’s the middle of the day. Why are you drinking?” She marched over and put her palm against my forehead.

I swatted her away. “Sit down, Jennifer.”

She snagged a piece of sushi and poured herself a glass of wine. “Okay, shoot.”

The story unfolding in my head made me nervous, so I began to pace. Jennifer watched me as she ate. “I went to Bridget’s Canyon to prove to Tommy that I could make a story out of it.”

She nodded. “Right. Right. I remember.”

“And I got there, I slipped underneath the rope and looked inside. Same ole’, same ole’, and then I felt an earthquake.”

Jennifer’s brow lifted. “In North Dakota? Near White Butte Mountain? Poppy, are you okay? There were no earthquakes—,”

“It wasn’t an earthquake. It was a ... man. Sort of.”

Jennifer tossed another piece into her mouth. “Poppy, are you okay—,”

“He had wings, and he was staring at me, Jen. He was hovering with his giant wings like a dragon shifter that you read about in those stupid romance books.”

Jennifer chewed slowly, swallowing a gulp of wine and getting off the bar stool. “Sweetie,” Jen said, putting her palms on my shoulder. “Did you fall? Hit your head—,”

“No,” I pleaded. “I know what I saw. He smiled at me.”

The look on Jennifer’s face screamed pity. She didn’t believe me. “You don’t believe me.”

She shrugged and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Poppy. Dragons aren’t real, babe. Especially not ones that are half-human. I think you hit your head. Did you fall?”

“I tripped,” I admitted.

Jennifer put her palms out as if we’d solved the cure for cancer. “See. Maybe you need to go see a doctor. Here,” she said, digging out her cell phone, she turned the flashlight into my eyes.

“Hey—,”

“Your eyes aren’t dilated. I think you’re fine now.” She glanced at the time on her cell. “I need to head back. I saved you some sushi. I’ll call you after work. I’ll tell Tommy you aren’t feeling well.”

Jennifer hurried out of my apartment, leaving me with the aftermath of what I felt was a nervous breakdown.

Maybe Jennifer was right ... I had tripped. Maybe I hit my head and didn’t realize it.

Bingo jumped onto the counter and I swatted him down. I just needed some sushi, another glass of wine, and a little nap.

***

The sound of my neighbor’s door woke me. The empty to-go box on my chest fell to the floor when I sat up and knocked over the empty wine glass beside the couch. Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms, I stumbled to my feet and glanced at the wall clock.

7 pm.

I slept most of the afternoon.

My cell phone brightened from my coffee table. There were too many notifications to count, but nothing pressing that couldn’t wait until tomorrow. Bingo meowed and scratched at his bowl in the kitchen.

I snagged his cat food and poured him some before heading to the bathroom. I stripped from my clothes and found myself needing the warm shower more than I thought. My knees were dirty from my fall, and there was a dried blood trail on my leg.

Once I finished, I dried my hair and slipped into a silk pair of pajamas. Pizza sounded good. Comfort food after one Hell of a morning. Bingo hissed from the living room, which wasn’t a surprise.

The cat didn’t like me most days.

I’d found him half-dead in an alley one night after our Friday night outing, and brought him home. He didn’t appreciate it obviously.

“Shut it, Bingo,” I said, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. It was the only thing, besides wine, that I consistently kept in my house.

I walked barefoot into the living room, finding Bingo sitting on the back of my sofa, pawing and hissing at the glass doors leading to my balcony.

I titled my head. Probably another stray cat.

“Stop it,” I said, walking over to glance out.

There was only a breeze blowing the dying plant on my balcony, and the neighbor’s shadows dancing from the apartment across the street.

“You’re so weird,” I said, ordering my pizza with my DoorDash app.

Bingo raced from the couch and hid underneath the china cabinet in my dining room.

Turning on my TV for background noise, I went into my room to grab a brush to untangle my hair. That’s when I felt the breeze. I glanced over at my window, which was open, my curtains blowing in the growing wind.

What in the ...

I’d never opened it before.

I was hardly home to enjoy an open window. That was what the balcony was for. “Hello?” I asked stupidly.

I grabbed the baseball bat my dad forced on me when I moved out and gripped it tightly.

Slowly, I checked my closet door, and under my bed.

Nothing.

Swallowing my nerves, I walked back into the living room and stopped.

There he was.

The dragon-man.

Standing in the middle of my living room as if he lived there. I blinked, my fingers tight around the bat, my body humming with electricity. I blinked again. And again. Was I dreaming?

It was the wine. It had to be.

His chuckle slid under my skin and melted me to my spot on the floor. “You’re not dreaming, Ember.”

Not dreaming. Lifting the bat slowly, I gathered myself into a swinging position. “You’re not taking me into that crater, you demon.”

The corner of his lush mouth lifted into a smirk. “Demon. That’s a new one. You can put that down. We won’t be needing it.”

“I should have got a dog,” I whispered to myself.

The dragon man began a slow circle around my apartment, giving me time to size him up. He was tall—way taller than me, —and his wings weren’t there. He wore jeans and a simple T-shirt. His shoes looked plucked from a military base, and not something I would put on a dragon-man. “Where are your wings?” I asked as he slid his fingertips along the counter of my kitchen.

“Retracted. Where are yours?” he teased.

I gripped the bat handle tighter and moved around the room to keep away from him. “I ordered pizza. It will be here soon.”

He turned and looked at me. His ivory-green eyes sparkled with mischief. “Are you inviting me to dinner, Ember?”

“My name is not Ember, and the delivery driver will call the cops.”

“I’m scared,” he said, faking a shiver. He stopped several feet away from me, and glared, giving me a once-over. “We’ll be long gone before then. Do you want to wear that?” he asked.

I stupidly looked down at my pajamas, and when I looked back up, he was inches from my face. A woodsy scent overtook me, and I stumbled back, dropping the bat, but he caught me before I fell.

His touch shot shivers down my body, and a warmth gathered between my legs. It’d been years since a man made me feel that good, and of all the people for it to be, my kidnapper.

Which, I assumed was where this was going.

A kidnapping.

A murder.

The pathetic life of Poppy Sanders.

Disappeared into the hole where her next story could have been. And just to think I could have written about this dragon and made history—if anyone believed me.

“Your eyes are so deep,” he said.

He looked mesmerized, and it did things to me that shouldn’t have happened. “What do you want?”

In all seriousness, he said, “You.”

In one second his shirt was on, and the next, it ripped into shards, and those godawful wings sprouted out. I yelped, my legs growing weak as someone knocked on my door.

“The pizza,” I whispered as he pulled me into his arms, and walked toward the balcony. “Help!” I screamed, waving my arms and legs, but it was too late.

He dove off the railing, like a professional diver in the Olympics, and my voice deafened in the wind. Cool air sent my hair into a tornado around my face as I clung to his man’s deltoids.

Somewhere along the way of him jumping from my balcony and shooting us into the night sky, I blacked out.

Because it seemed flying through the air with a dragon-man was just too much for me.