His eyes widened as he gulped. He then reached down and blatantly adjusted himself through his jeans. “I can see through to your ass, erm, butt, erm, bottom.”
I started laughing at his expression and couldn’t stop.
Marcy entered the kitchen from the green room that was off it, appearing perplexed. “Poppy?”
“Brett kissed me. Got his ear twisted by nothing. Made my butt wet,” I managed to get out before turning to show her.
She rushed to me, laughing as well. She pointed to my tush. “You have on the tiniest panties! Go you with the sexy bottoms!”
I laughed harder.
She did too.
I shook my head. “S-stop. I’ll pee myself.”
She began to cross her legs and hop. “Me too!”
“For real. I had twins. I’ll wet myself if I think too hard on it,” I said, barely able to breathe from a serious case of the giggles. But it felt good to let loose. To just laugh and feel pure joy.
Marcy’s eyes widened. “Did you use those weight things I bought you for your girlie parts?”
I nodded—and then remembered who else was in the kitchen with us. I glanced at Brett to find him standing there, looking dumbfounded.
He lifted a brow. “Does she mean what I think she means?”
Marcy beamed. “I do.”
“They have weights for women’s, um, nether regions?” he asked.
Twelve
Poppy
Dana entered the kitchen. “Uh, why is Brett talking about our nether regions? And who even uses that term? I thought it was reserved for authors who write romance books. Does he need me to explain what the area is actually called?”
“We’re discussing the vaginal weights I got Poppy after she had the twins,” said Marcy.
Dana glanced at me. “Want me to tape her mouth shut? I will.”
I snorted and then wiped the corners of my eyes from all the cry-laughing I’d done. “Nah. She’s fine. Best Brett get used to her now if he plans to be around for the long haul.”
Dana’s attention snapped to him. “And does he plan to be around for the long haul?”
“Since he’s still got the engagement ring that he bought Poppy twenty years back, I’d say so,” said Jeffrey, entering the kitchen behind Dana. “Okay, everything from the containers is officially unloaded and in the room it should be in. What say you all to some food? I’m starved.”
I formed a “T” with my hands, unable to move off what he’d said. “He bought me a what?”
Dana groaned and rolled her eyes. “Guessing your bromance buddy didn’t want that slipping out there, Jeff-i-poo.”
Jeffrey shrugged. “Not really caring. I warned him if he didn’t tell Poppy everything, I would. I’m not really in the mood to listen to him whine about her for another two decades. Best they just realize they’re meant for each other, do the deed, and make it official.”
Dana grinned. “I like your style. Not sure if I like you as a person yet or not, but your delivery is spot-on.”
“Thanks.” Jeffrey flashed a devious smile.
I faced Brett, worried how he’d react to everything his best friend had just dropped. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it all and couldn’t imagine what he was feeling.
He was staring at me as if he was more worried about my reaction.
I offered a sincere expression that was somewhat neutral. “Did you really get a ring back then?”
“I did,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I planned to propose that night in the hotel.”
I tipped my head. “But decided against it and ran out of my life? Change your mind on wanting me to be your wife?”
“Probably had more to do with something else,” said Marcy before humming and heading back in the direction of the green room.
“I don’t even want to guess at what she meant by that,” said Dana with a wave of her hand. “I’m hungry too. How about I order pizzas? Who wants to do a beer and soda run with me?”
Jeffrey moved up alongside her. “How about I put a call in to my bar and have one of my guys bring over pizzas and drinks?”
“You own your own bar?” she asked. “That serves pizza?”
I perked. “Oh, I want one with pineapple on it.”
That earned me a lot of dirty looks.
Brett swallowed hard but nodded. “Um, sure. Yum.”
Jeffrey looked horrified. “What? You hate that on pizza.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” stressed Jeffrey.
Dana scowled more, her attention on me. “We’ve had this talk. Your California is showing. Make it stop. It’s freaking out the New Yorker in me. Pineapple does not belong on a pizza.”
“I’m with her,” said Jeffrey.
Brett seemed as though he really wanted to join Team Anti-Pineapple. “I stand with Poppy.”
Dana laughed, amusement still lurking in her eyes. “Shocking. So about you owning a bar that has pizza, Blondie.”
Jeffrey groaned. “Going to make fun of me for that? You seem to enjoy giving me a hard time.”
“I’m going to wait to see if your pizza is any good before I mock it,” she said flippantly. “And don’t kid yourself, blondie. You like it when I give you a hard time. I can tell. More people should do it. Keeps you grounded and humble. There is something about you that says you get your way all the damn time. Best someone sets you straight.”
Brett snorted. “I should be recording this.”
“Please don’t,” said Jeffrey. “Come on there, Legs.”
“Legs? I like it. That’s Ms. Legs to you, bucko. Come on. I need to be fed. I’m cranky when I’m hangry.” Dana made a come-hither motion with her hand as she headed for the hall.
Jeffrey lifted a brow, scurrying after her. “So you’re hungry all the time?”
“Keep it up and you’ll be listed on a milk carton as the missing bar owner,” warned Dana with a laugh as they left the room.
When it was just Brett and I in the kitchen again, I glanced at him and had to pick my wet undies out from between my cheeks—again.
He snorted.
I smiled slightly, still stunned by the fact he’d apparently been ready to propose to me at one point in our lives. As I thought back about that night twenty years ago, I had to push past the hurt and pain his abandonment had left in me to really focus. He’d seemed so nervous all evening. He had touched his front pocket a lot during the course of the meal. I hadn’t really thought anything of it. And when he’d taken me back to his hotel room, I’d been a bundle of nerves, knowing the night had finally come for us to be together sexually.
Or at least I’d assumed the time had come.
In reality, he’d just bolted.
Brett came to me and took my hand in his. “Poppy, about the ring.”
“Do you want to talk about it now?” I asked, unsure how ready I was to dive deep into our rather torrid history. There had been a lot of picking at old scabs throughout the day. If I kept going, I’d risk opening the wounds again and there was no telling what my state of mind would end up being.
I basically felt as if the last six months had been some crazy version of emotional ping-pong. And while I’d gotten really good at keeping the ball in play, I could only go so fast and handle so much coming at me before everything went to hell in a handbasket.
“I want you to understand that I had every intention of asking you to marry me,” he said delicately, still holding my hands in his. “And that my intentions haven’t changed. I kept the ring all these years for a reason. I could try to lie and make up some lame, somewhat plausible explanation as to why, but when you peel back all the layers, the truth is that I’ve always planned to give it to you. I just needed the time to be right again. Now it’s right.”
As nice and romantic as that sounded, it could never be. He needed to understand that now. Delaying the truth would only cause hurt feelings and leave me confused as well. I couldn’t muddy the waters of the reemerging fr
iendship. It needed to stay the course. And I needed to stay in my lane when it came to Brett.
While Thomas had dealt me a low blow, Brett had devastated me years ago. I knew deep down that wouldn’t change with age. If I let him in fully once more, and he had another change of heart, I wouldn’t come out of the other side whole. I’d be forever fractured.
“No,” I whispered, unable to get out more of an explanation for fear I’d start to cry. I didn’t want to be weepy but couldn’t help it.
He didn’t pull away. “You’re afraid to trust me.”
“Yes,” I confessed. “As much as I want to trust you and tell you that I think I’ll be able to one day, you hurt me beyond measure.”
It was Brett who teared up, surprising me. “I know, honey. Believe me. I know.”
I had to avert my gaze as my jaw clenched. Tears threatened to give way. “You meant so much to me. I thought… I thought we’d be together forever. I know that’s silly to say now, at my age, but back then, when I was young and innocent, I really believed you were the man for me. I’d daydream about our future together. About the life we’d have. None of that was to be. Our path forked. I went in one direction and you went in another.”
He squeezed my hands gently. “I know. I hate myself for what I did to you—to us. There isn’t a day that has gone by that I haven’t thought about you—about us. I hate that I hurt you. Mostly, I hate that I hurt us. What we had was special. Hell, it was more than special. It was perfect.”
“I wish I could understand why it is you ran out like you did,” I said, losing my battle with my tears. One escaped, and I pulled a hand free from his to wipe it away. “And I wish I could understand why that betrayal—because that is what that was, Brett—hurts worse to this day than finding out my husband of nineteen years didn’t love me anymore and had been having flings and affairs.”
He cupped my face with one hand. “I can tell you the real reason why what I did hurt you more than what dipshit did, but there a lot of things I need to explain to you first.”
“Dipshit?” I asked, the edges of my lips pulling up at his nickname for Thomas.
“Hey, calling it like I see it. He got to put a ring on your finger. He got you to take his last name. He was able to have a family with you. He then lit that life on fire. Dipshit kind of seems a little too nice for him.”
I tipped my head into his palm more. “Brett, you would have had all of those things and more from me had you not bolted from the hotel room and given me your version of a Dear John letter.”
I looked upward and it was clear to see he was struggling with his emotions as well. “I know, Poppy. Trust me. I more than know. Let me fix it. Let me make it right between us. Give me another chance to prove what you mean to me. That you are my entire reason for being.”
Every ounce of me wanted to believe his words. They were beautiful, and what woman wouldn’t want to feel as if a man had been pining for her for decades? The problem was, I’d seen and been through too much in my life to buy into fairy tales and happily ever after. While some women were lucky enough to have a romance that lasted a lifetime and that they could trust with all their being, that hadn’t been the case for me. Love had burned me twice. Getting close to one of the flames that had left the biggest scar seemed unwise.
“Please, Poppy.”
“Brett, I’m damaged goods now,” I stressed. “Seriously. Thomas did a number on me. I’m not sure how long I’ll need to heal, or if I ever will. And I don’t know that I can ever fully trust you after the stunt you pulled. I get we were young, but it hurt. A lot. I don’t think I’ve processed those feelings fully yet. You don’t want me. Trust me.”
“Good thing I’m not actually asking for your thoughts on what I want, huh,” he said, bending and kissing the tip of my nose.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re tenacious. I’ll give you that much.”
“Hey, I walked out of the house today to find you bumping into my tree,” he said with a wink. “I’m no idiot. I understand that was Fate setting our forked paths right once more. I hope you’ll take pity on me. It’s pretty evident I’m a sad sap without you.”
I snorted. “I’m guessing you’ve managed just fine.”
“Then your guess would be wrong,” he returned. He ran his thumb over my cheek.
Thirteen
Poppy
As our gazes met once more, he dipped his head and I welcomed what I knew was coming—a kiss. Our tongues laced and my entire body heated. Where was my willpower? I’d managed just fine for over six months without sex, but one day back near Brett and it was as if I was a stick of hormonal dynamite and he’d lit the fuse.
The problem was, an explosion really would happen if I gave in to my baser desires. I wanted him in a carnal way, but keeping my heart separated from the wants and needs of my nether regions, as he’d called them, simply wasn’t an option.
As he deepened the kiss, I got firsthand experience at just how right I was about being unable to separate love and sex.
Dana did it all the time, and I was jealous of her for it.
I’d had all of one bed partner in my life. One and a quarter if you counted the fact I’d gotten naked with Brett. I wasn’t exactly winning any experienced mature woman contests, that was for sure.
As he tipped my head back more, and began grinding his body against mine, I lost track of my inner protests and basically found I was totally on board with the idea of making his quarter turn into an entire dollar of lucky.
He broke the kiss, hissed, and spun around to look behind him, his hand going to his shoulder.
“Brett?” I asked, my breath coming in short pants as I struggled to gain control over my burning need for him.
“Sorry. It just felt like someone pinched the hell out of my shoulder,” he confessed and then rubbed the back of his ear absently. “Kind of like before when it felt as if someone had flicked my ear.”
At first, I assumed he was joking. That it was his attempt at diffusing the situation because he’d realized we were moving too fast. Then I thought harder on it. He’d swatted at his ear earlier and then deposited my backside into the basin of soapy water. “Both times happened when you were kissing me.”
Surprise took hold of his face. “Yes. They did.”
“Should I be offended?” I asked, only partially kidding. It was kind of hard not to develop a complex considering both incidents happened while the man was making out with me.
With analytic eyes, he glanced around the kitchen unhurriedly, taking in everything. He eased closer to me in the process. “Poppy-seed, remember when we went to that cemetery and Travis got all freaked and ran out, claiming he saw a ghost?”
“Yes. Why?” I did recall it. Travis hadn’t been the only member of the group we’d been with that night who had sworn they’d seen a spirit. I hadn’t been one of them and assumed mass hysteria and the power of suggestion had gotten to them all.
When I’d gotten back to my grandparents’ home that night, I’d found them both on the front porch, rocking in chairs Grandpa had made, looking as if they’d known what I’d been up to.
Grandma had commented that it was best not to disturb the dead. They could get testy.
Brett ran his hands up the backs of my arms, causing a shiver of need to move through me. “Poppy-seed, I don’t think we’re alone in here.”
I looked around for signs of anyone else. “We are. Marcy is in the green room again and Dana—”
He put a finger to my lips, silencing me. His dark gaze fixed on me. “Poppy-seed, I think you know what I’m saying, but denial is keeping you from admitting it. I need you to think in terms of the supernatural right now.”
I stiffened, my hand going to his as I eased it from my lips. “You’re telling me you think there is a ghost here with us?”
“Spirit, but yes, same thing, I guess,” he said. “Don’t you?”
“No.”
“Really? Then need I remind you of the number of
times your grandfather would flick my ear, pinch me, slap the back of my head, or just threaten me in general for kissing you?” he questioned.
I opened my mouth to deny as much but stopped as the hair on the back of my neck rose. The temperature around me dropped quickly, so much so that it was impossible not to notice. When I exhaled, condensation from my breath formed in the air. Dread filled me from the top of my head to the bottom of my toes.
All I wanted to do was run from the room—hell, the house—and cry.
Sob as if I hadn’t done so in years and needed to expel every bit of emotion I had built up within me. I couldn’t recall a time in my life when I’d been filled with so much sadness—so much profound emptiness.
Brett grabbed my hand and yanked me toward him, a low rumble coming from deep in his chest as he stared frantically around the kitchen.
“B-Brett, I don’t think that’s my grandfather,” I whispered. “If he was a spirit, which I’m not saying he is because I’m not saying I believe in ghosts, but if he was, why would I feel like sobbing hysterically and running from the house?”
He rubbed the backs of my arms, clearly trying to warm me by way of friction. “Poppy, if the house isn’t safe, he’d want you gone. It may break his heart to send you away, but he’d do it if it meant you were safe.”
He had a good point.
“G-Grandpa?” I asked hesitantly, unsure if I wanted a response or not. Part of me would love to know Grandpa lived on in some fashion, and that there was more to life after death. But another part of me knew processing as much would not go as planned. I’d freak out.
It was one thing to watch supposed reality television shows where self-proclaimed experts did what they termed scientific investigations of the paranormal. It was an entirely other matter to have the possibility of ghosts being real thrust in your face. This wasn’t a show. No one was angling for ratings or a thrill factor. This was my life.
And as much as I wanted to connect with my grandpa again, it would mean he was trapped in the house, and had been for twenty years. The idea of that broke my heart.
Cloudy with a Chance of Witchcraft: A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Romance Novel Page 11