by Lila Monroe
“Because you had your eyes on that fifty thousand-dollar prize,” Natalie corrects her. “Which I fully support, by the way. Would you really rather have a wild fling with Dylan and miss out on that bonus? No man is worth fifty G’s.”
Usually, I’d agree with her. Except . . .
“I don’t know. Dylan might be,” I admit.
“Poppy!” they both gasp.
“You’ve got it bad,” Natalie says, sounding almost impressed.
“Is there any chance he feels the same way about you?” April asks hopefully.
“No,” I answer, gloomy. “It’s no contest. I mean, you’ve seen Jasmine.”
“You’re just as amazing as she is,” April says loyally.
“Plus, you eat carbs,” Natalie adds.
“Don’t knock her,” I find myself protesting. “She’s actually a really lovely person. Which only makes this situation more ridiculous. Part of me is rooting for the two of them to get together.”
While other parts of me are just jonesing for Dylan. In a big way.
“So, what are you going to do?” Natalie asks, ever the practical one. “Do you want to come home?”
“I can’t,” I reply, feeling torn. “If I bail now, it’ll seem weird. Plus, Tyler will think it’s about him.”
“That man thinks gravity is about him,” Natalie snorts, and I have to smile.
“It’s just a couple more days, right? I can survive that long,” I decide. “After all, it’s not like I’m stranded in the wilderness here. I have luxury spa products and room service to help me out. If I just keep away from Dylan and make sure there are no more late-night front-porch snugglefests—”
“You snuggled?” April’s voice goes up an octave.
“Past tense,” I say firmly. “No snuggling. This is now a snuggle-free zone. If I limit our interactions to crowded public places, and make sure I have an exit strategy, I’ll be fine.”
“That’s our tactic for internet dating,” Natalie points out, sounding amused.
“And so far, it’s kept us from being killed and left in a gutter,” I declare. “I’ll be fine, you guys. I just need to show some self-control. I can’t go swooning over every hot guy who brings me cake.”
“There was cake?” April sighs. “I wish a man would bring me cake.”
“Ask Dylan. I’m sure that by next week, he’ll be looking for a new distraction,” I tell her, but the words ring hollow. I may have thought Dylan was a shallow manwhore a week ago, but I know him better than that now.
Damn friendship.
“Hang in there, babe,” Natalie says. “And remember, that bonus can still be yours. As consolation prizes go, it’s not a bad one.”
“No, it’s not.”
My phone makes a beeping noise. “Crap, my battery’s about to run out,” I realize. “Thanks for the pep talk. See you guys soon.”
“Good luck!” April says.
“And remember: keep your panties on!” Natalie adds, before my phone goes dead.
I tuck it away, rueful. My panties aren’t the problem, however much they’re melting from Dylan’s scorching smiles. Lust, I can handle. It’s my heart that’s on the line this time. And despite my pledges to my friends, I’m not so sure I can keep my distance—especially when Dylan keeps revealing new, interesting depths.
I shake it off and pause for a drink of water. The trees are thick around me, and I can’t see water or civilization anywhere. If it wasn’t for the path, I would be completely lost—
Wait.
I stop and turn around. It’s not a path I’m on, I realize, just a vague clearing between the trees.
Uh-oh . . .
I look, but I can’t see the trail anywhere. Did I really just wander off without noticing, and walk God knows where into the forest?
Stay calm, I remind myself. I just need to go back the way I came.
Which is . . . Left?
Maybe?
I start walking again, trying not to panic just yet. I’ve only been out a few hours, I can’t have strayed too far from the lodge. And sure, I have zero outdoor survival skills, and only a blueberry muffin to keep me going, but that doesn’t mean I’m doomed to wind up one of those cautionary tales about unprepared hikers they play on the evening news.
I check my surroundings again, looking for anything familiar to guide me back. But it’s just trees, and logs, and more trees, as far as the eye can see.
OK, forget calm. I’m officially freaking out.
“Hello?” I call loudly. “Can anyone hear me?”
My voice echoes, and there’s a scampering noise nearby as some wild animal flees for the hills, but otherwise . . .
Silence.
I gulp.
Never mind the saying about trees falling in the forest— If a writer gets lost away from the trail, will her decomposing body even make a sound?
I hitch up my backpack and start to walk.
17
Dylan
“What do you mean, Poppy’s lost?” I stare at Kyle, immediately forgetting the pile of paperwork in front of me. I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about her all day, ever since getting way too close for comfort on her front porch last night. But now, it turns out keeping my distance is the worst thing I could have done.
“Don’t freak out,” Kyle warns me, which doesn’t exactly help me keep calm.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Sarah jumps in. “It’s just . . .”
They exchange a worried look.
“Talk. Now,” I order them, my blood pressure already rising. “Where is she?”
“We . . . don’t exactly know,” Kyle explains. “She told Julia she was taking a hike, but nobody’s seen her since.”
“I went looking for her to maybe grab some coffee,” Sarah adds. “I thought it was kind of weird she’d been gone so long. I mean, Poppy doesn’t exactly seem like the outdoorsy type.”
That’s an understatement . . . and it only makes me more concerned. “Wait a minute,” I ask. “How long ago was this?”
Kyle grimaces. “That’s the thing. She left around 8 a.m.”
“Eight hours ago?!” I grab my phone to call her.
“I already tried,” Sarah says. “Straight to voicemail. Either she’s out of range or her battery’s dead.”
I dial all the same.
“Hey, this is Poppy. If you’re having a romantic emergency or want to take me for donuts, leave a message!”
I hang up, trying to think straight. “Do we know which trail she took?”
Sarah shakes her head. “Apparently she said she would stick to the easy trails, but a group just came back from the nature loop, and they said they didn’t see her.”
“Dammit,” I curse. The woods are no laughing matter—especially once it gets dark out. Poppy may be able to conjure a love letter from thin air, but she’s the last person I’d want hiking alone through the wilderness. Knowing her, she cared more about what snacks she took than packing the right outdoor gear.
The thought of her out there, lost and alone, makes my chest tighten.
“We need to organize a search party,” I say grimly. “Get staff out on the trails in every direction. We can set up a base camp here, have everyone call in,” I say, already heading for the door. “I’ll take the northern loop. We can cover a few dozen miles before dark.”
“Whoa.” Kyle frowns. “Isn’t that going kind of overboard? For all we know, she’s sunbathing by the lake somewhere.”
“And what if she isn’t?” I demand, hating even the thought of it. “What if she’s hurt, or lost, or worse? And we just sat around hoping for the best?”
Sarah places a hand on my arm. “It’ll be OK,” she says, soothing. “We’ll find her. Kyle, go find as many volunteers to search as you can. Anyone not on essential duties.”
He nods and heads out.
“Thank you,” I exhale, pausing on the terrace. “Maybe I’m overreacting, but . . . She’s only here because I asked her to be,” I say,
feeling a stab of guilt. “I brought her out here, and stuck her in that canoe with Tyler, and acted like my stupid love life was the only thing that mattered . . .”
While also lusting after her so hard I can’t think straight. I shake my head, flashing back to that moment last night when I almost lost my head and kissed her. I can’t explain it. We’d been talking for hours, so easy that the time flew by without me even realizing. Poppy was curled right there beside me, cheeks flushed in the moonlight, and for some inexplicable reason, all I wanted to do was pull her closer and make that smart mouth moan my name, beg for more as I pick up right where we left off, hard and panting—
It was a good thing I came to my senses in time to get the hell out of there, but now I’m struck with a whole new level of regret.
“If something happens to her . . .”
“Don’t think like that,” Sarah says firmly. “Poppy is tough and resourceful. She can take care of herself.”
“Against a grizzly bear?” I retort.
“I don’t know . . .” Sarah grins. “I wouldn’t want to be that grizzly.”
I don’t smile back. I know she’s just trying to make me feel better, but I can’t joke around about something like this. There are a million things that could have happened to Poppy out there, and not just grizzlies. Snakes, broken ankles, evil biker gangs looking for a human sacrifice . . . My mind fills with a list of worst-case scenarios until I can’t see straight.
“False alarm!”
I look up. Kyle comes jogging back over, out of breath. “She’s back,” he says, smiling.
“They found her?” I’m hit with a wave of relief so strong, I have to take hold of the porch railing for a moment to steady myself.
Thank God.
“She found herself,” Kyle replies. “Came stumbling out of the woods on the far side of the shore. A group was out picnicking, they brought her back.”
“Stumbling?” I repeat. “Is she OK?”
“A little shaken up, but fine,” Kyle reassures me. “She twisted her ankle, caught a chill, but the hotel physician is checking her out, and—”
I don’t stick around to hear the rest of it. I take off, damn near sprinting across the grounds to her cabin. When I burst in, Poppy is sitting up in bed as the doctor finishes checking her blood pressure. She’s wearing those ridiculous cartoon pajamas, wrapped up in a blanket, chatting away. She looks smaller than usual somehow, pale and tired, and I feel a surge of protectiveness.
“Just rest up, and you should be fine,” the doc is telling her.
Poppy sees me and gives me a smile. “Hey.”
“Hi.” I exhale, trying to pull it together. Everything’s OK. She’s OK.
The Doc leaves, and I take a step inside.
“You heard about my big adventure then?” she asks.
“You caused quite a commotion over here,” I say, casual, like I haven’t been freaking the fuck out over her disappearance.
“Sorry about that.” Poppy looks rueful. “I didn’t mean to. One minute, I was on the path, and the next . . . I wasn’t. Turns out, reading Hatchet five million times as a kid doesn’t exactly translate to survival skills. Although, I still think I could craft a few arrows, if I really needed to.” She grins.
I need to do something, so I go over to the room-service phone in the corner and punch in the number to the kitchens. “Hi, we’ll need some food in Cabin 6,” I say. “Burger and fries, plus that chocolate cake, an ice cream sundae . . . And ask the chef for an order of donuts, too.”
“Are you feeding an army?” Poppy asks when I hang up.
“You need to eat. And drink,” I add. There’s a mug of something steaming on the nightstand. I push it closer to her. “You’re probably dehydrated.”
“I was gone barely half the day,” Poppy protests. “Most people go that long between meals naturally.”
“Not you. Drink,” I insist.
She rolls her eyes and takes a sip. Then winces. “Who made this? Jasmine? It tastes like someone dredged it up from the bottom of the lake.”
Jasmine. Shit. I remember suddenly that I have a whole dinner set up for the two of us later tonight. And even more to the point—she’s agreed to the date.
“What?” Poppy must have noticed my expression.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
Jasmine will have to wait. There’s no way I’m leaving Poppy right now, not until I’m absolutely sure she’s OK—and has eaten every last scrap of those donuts.
“I really am OK,” Poppy tells me. “I mean, I freaked out for a while, sure, and started composing dramatic goodbye notes for you all to find with my half-eaten body, but then the feeling passed. I remembered the lake is in a basin, so I figured if I just went downhill, I’d hit the water eventually. And I did.” She smiles. “Problem solved.”
I have to smile back. Typical Poppy. An optimist, for sure.
She starts to climb out of bed. “Whoa,” I stop her, worried. She gives me a look.
“I went on a walk, not a cross-country marathon. The couch is comfier.”
“Fine. I’ll allow it.”
She snorts with laughter and goes to curl up on the couch. I bring her another blanket and then take a seat beside her, finally relaxing for what feels like the first time since the moment I found out she was missing.
“You scared me,” I admit.
“I’m sorry.” Poppy squeezes my arm.
“Where did you even get the idea to go wandering off like that?” I ask. “Hiking isn’t exactly your kind of thing.”
“I exercise!” she protests.
“In a cool, air-conditioned building with snacks and showers,” I shoot back, and she laughs.
“OK, you’ve got me there. I guess I just needed some time out. Things back here were getting . . . complicated.”
I freeze. Is she talking about her asshole ex . . . or us?
If there even is an us.
“Anyway, what did I miss?” she asks brightly, before I can say anything. “Any more progress with Jasmine?”
How the hell do I answer that?
More to the point: how the hell do I want to answer that?
“No progress,” I say slowly. “But I think it’s for the best.”
“You do?”
Poppy turns to look at me. Our eyes lock, and there it is again: a shot of pure desire, speeding through my bloodstream. Making me crave her. Making me forget why I’m not already trying to get Jasmine to give me a second chance.
Dammit.
“I thought you were crazy about her,” Poppy says, not looking away.
“Crazy is one way to put it,” I reply slowly. “But, I think you were right.”
“Big surprise. Which part?” She cracks a smile, and I have to chuckle.
“All of it. I guess it wasn’t so much about her, as a way to prove something to myself . . .”
I stop, feeling like a total jackass, but Poppy just nods. Like she knows me better than I even know myself.
“You don’t have anything to prove, you know,” she says softly. “You’re not entirely terrible.”
“High praise.”
“It is from me.” Poppy gives me a smile that I can’t quite read. There’s a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and I can’t stop myself reaching over and gently wiping it away.
Her breath stills. Her cheeks flush. And just like that, everything seems laughably simple.
Because what the hell have I been doing chasing after some other woman, when the only one I want is right here?
“Dylan . . .” she whispers softly, but I don’t wait to hear what she’s going to say next.
I’ve waited too long already.
I lean over and pull her into my arms, claiming her mouth with a slow, hot kiss.
Damn. It’s everything I’ve been trying to forget—but couldn’t now even if you smashed me around the head with a two-ton anvil. Because there’s no forgetting the way she melts against me, her curves soft under my hands. No forgett
ing the hot slide of her tongue in my mouth, or the breathy moan she makes when I trace my fingertips over her bare shoulders. The heat in this room goes from zero to burning up in just a few seconds flat, and all I can think is,
Finally.
The makeout we started a week ago feels like it never stopped. Poppy kisses me back hungrily, moving to straddle my lap as I yank her closer and bury my face against her neck. I kiss along the arch of her jaw, and she shivers against me. Damn, I want her. She arches against me, pressing her hips, and I—
“Room service?”
Fuuuuuuck.
There’s a tap at the cabin door, and Poppy scrambles off me, panting. She rushes over to open the door, and one of the busboys wheels in a massive cart. “Mr. Griffin,” he says, noticing me.
“Hey, Steve.” I nod from where I’m seated on the couch. Because, let’s be honest, I’m not exactly eager to show off the tent I’m packing.
“Thanks,” Poppy tells him, still flushed. “I, umm, have some cash here somewhere . . .”
“Oh, no, tipping is included,” Steve insists. “You two have a great night!”
He leaves. The minute Poppy closes the door behind him, I’m on my feet again, backing her up against the wall. “Now, where were we?” I murmur, dropping kisses along her shoulder, and pushing her pajama top further aside—
Poppy ducks out of my embrace. “We can’t!”
I blink.
“I mean, not until you go break up with Jasmine.”
I stare at her, confused. “What do you mean, break up? Nothing’s happened with Jasmine. We’ve never even kissed!”
“Yes, but you’ve made advances!” she blurts, looking flustered. “Tried to court her. Made your intentions known.”
I grin, reaching for her again. “Do you always sound like a Jane Austen novel when you get turned on? Because it’s kind of hot . . .” I slide my hands around her waist, and Poppy looks torn.
“I just mean, I don’t want any misunderstandings,” she says, even as she rests her hands on my ass. “If we’re going to do this—really do this, I don’t want the whole Jasmine thing hanging over us.”
I reluctantly pull away. However much I’d prefer to be getting naked right now, she’s right. “Fine,” I sigh, adjusting my jeans. “Don’t you dare move an inch.”