by Devney Perry
I missed the hometown feel that Bozeman once had. I ran into fewer and fewer familiar faces at the grocery store these days. I got stuck in traffic almost every morning. And walking down Main Street, something I remembered fondly as a kid, now just pissed me off. The local shops had lost some of their authenticity, becoming too fancy in an effort to mimic ski towns like Aspen or Breckenridge.
Out went the small-town charm and in came the higher crime rate.
Bozeman was getting to be as bad as a fucking big city. Drugs. Murder. We were even seeing a stronger gang influence.
“Whoa. What the hell?”
I was snapped out of my thoughts as Terrell’s head whipped to the side. An orange Chevy Blazer streaked past us, speeding in the opposite direction.
In a split second, Terrell had the siren blaring and lights flashing and was flipping a tire-screeching U-turn. His foot dug into the gas pedal as the cruiser’s engine revved. We caught the Blazer in no time, following it over to the shoulder.
“You take the lead,” I told Terrell as I unbuckled.
He nodded and we both got out of the cruiser. Approaching with caution, always at the ready like we’d both been taught, Terrell came up on the driver’s side window while I took the opposite.
“Evening,” Terrell greeted the driver. “License, registration and proof of insurance, please?”
I bent low to look through the open passenger window. The driver, a young college kid, was fumbling in his wallet. His shaking fingers had to try three times to get his license out of the plastic slot. “Here you go.” His voice was as rattled as his fingers as he handed the card to Terrell.
“Do you know why I pulled you over,” Terrell looked to the card, “Quincy?”
“I was, um, speeding?”
Terrell nodded. “The speed limit here is forty.”
“Oh. Really?”
Come on, Quincy. Don’t play dumb. Why did the young ones always try and play dumb?
Terrell frowned. “Go ahead and get me your registration and proof of insurance.”
“Okay.” Quincy reached across the dash, his gaze skidding away from mine. With a pop, he opened the glove box and set off a paper explosion. Receipts. Candy wrappers. University parking tickets. It all came spilling out—including an ID that landed right on the seat by my window, faceup.
My eyes narrowed at the Colorado ID. Quincy’s picture was next to the name Jason Chen. I squinted and made out a birthdate. “Jason Chen” was twenty-seven.
Fuck that. If this kid was twenty-seven, then I was in my damn forties.
“Quincy, I think you’d better get out of the car,” I said. “And bring that other ID with you.”
Ten minutes later, Quincy was shaking my hand and promising never to buy a fake ID again.
“Thank you. Thank you so much, Officer.”
I let his hand go. “Don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.” He shook his head. “I promise. I won’t. It was stupid of me to get that fake ID in the first place.”
“This is your once, Quincy.” I held up one finger to his nose. “Your one free pass and your one chance to learn from your mistake. Don’t take it for granted because you won’t get a twice.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Good.” I jerked my head to the Blazer. “Now get out of here.”
He nodded and rushed back to the SUV, waving to Terrell and me as he pulled back onto the road.
“Why’d you do it?” Terrell asked. “Why’d you let him off with a warning?”
I shrugged. “Way back when, I had someone give me a once and it changed my life. I pay it forward when I can. Besides, that kid was harmless. We took his fake ID. We could have written him up, but I think we made a more lasting impression this way, don’t you?”
“I sure do. That kid was about to piss himself.” Terrell nodded and started back to the cruiser. “A once. I like that.”
I grinned, knowing Terrell would be stealing a term I’d stolen myself. “Just use them wisely.”
Frozen in the doorway of The Maysen Jar, I watched as Poppy smiled and laughed with an elderly man sitting by the register.
Damn, she was beautiful.
It was hours later than I’d planned to be at the restaurant. Terrell had dropped me off at my truck after the Quincy incident and I’d come straight here, so anxious to see Poppy that I’d had a hard time obeying the speed limit myself.
But I was here now and I couldn’t get past the damn door.
“Excuse me.”
A lady stood behind me, wanting to get past. “Sorry.” I unstuck my feet and stepped inside, holding the door open for her.
As the lady joined a friend at a table, I stayed at the back wall, watching Poppy work. Her hair was up, tied in a knot secured by two pencils. A black apron was tied around the waistband of her jeans. Her white V-neck tee with the restaurant’s logo on the pocket draped perfectly down her breasts, hinting at just a bit of cleavage as it fell down her flat stomach.
Beautiful.
Her smile was so natural and charismatic. She mesmerized her customers, laughing and chatting as she worked. She mesmerized me.
So I stood at the back, doing my best to blend into the brick wall as I watched. I relished every second of her unguarded smile, because as soon as she spotted me, she’d be back on alert. She’d throw up her wall, just like she’d done last night when she’d spotted me outside of Mom’s music studio.
I’d lectured Terrell earlier about finding a balance, but damn if I wasn’t having a hell of a time finding one with Poppy. Was I pushing her too fast? Too hard? Not enough?
When I was around, she had a war raging inside her head. She’d look at me and I’d see that desire spark behind her eyes. But then she’d smother it, letting her face twist with guilt. I hated that look. I hated putting it on her face.
If I were a stronger man, I would have stayed away and given her time. But here I was, lurking at the back of her restaurant, so drawn to her that I’d barely blinked.
As if she knew I was thinking about her, Poppy’s eyes searched the restaurant. The second she spotted me, her body strung tight. She looked away, studying the counter for a moment as her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. But then she shocked me with a slow, gorgeous smile.
I was fucking doomed.
That smile—and the finger wave that went along with it—would have had me swaying on my feet if not for the brick wall at my back.
A customer snagged Poppy’s attention and I took a moment to get my heart rate under control. Three deep breaths and I was steady, striding across the restaurant.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked the elderly man at the counter.
“No,” he grunted.
“Thanks.” I slid into the stool, catching Poppy’s eye as she rang up her customer’s order. “Hey.”
“Hi. Give me one sec.”
“Take your time.” She went back to ringing up a customer’s order and I turned to the old man. “Mind if I snag a menu?”
He grunted again as he lifted one off the stack by the register and pushed it down the counter.
I scanned the menu, debating my options. Maybe one day I wouldn’t need a menu. Maybe I’d be around enough that I’d have all the choices memorized. And maybe one day I’d get a different greeting from Poppy. I’d be allowed behind the counter so I could tuck her into my side and kiss her hair as I said hello.
“Here’s hoping,” I mumbled.
“What was that?” the elderly man asked.
“Oh, uh, just hoping she’s got more of that mac ’n’ cheese.” Piss poor recovery, Cole. Piss poor. “Have you eaten here much?”
“Every day.” His chest puffed up as he made his declaration. “This is my seat.”
“An expert. Nice. Any recommendations?”
“Meh. Her potpies are all right.”
“All right?” Poppy stepped right in front of the old man and planted her hands on her hips. “Sheesh. Is that why you’ve
had four of them today? Because they were just all right?”
The man glared up at Poppy as she scowled back. Was that what this guy did? He came into her restaurant and criticized her food all damn day? I opened my mouth to put this old geezer in his place—no one glared at Poppy—but the corner of her mouth twitched.
“Oh, stop.” She waved off his glare and smiled. “Randall James. Meet Cole Goodman.”
Randall turned to acknowledge me. He looked me up and down twice, each time his eyes lingering a bit on my gun.
I held out my hand first, and he shocked the shit out of me by actually taking it. “Nice to meet you, Randall.”
“Same.”
“Do you want some dinner?” Poppy asked me.
“Please. Surprise me, but don’t forget my dessert this time.”
“Last weekend I made up a new mixed berry pie in honor of the Fourth. I haven’t added them to the menu yet but they’re available. Do you want to try one of those or an apple pie?”
“What!” Randall nearly came off his stool before I could answer. “You said you ran out of those berry pie things earlier.”
“No, I said you ran out.” She pointed at his chest. “You know the rules. Five pies are all you get in a twenty-four-hour period.”
“I don’t know why I keep coming here and taking this crap.” Randall spun around on his stool. “I’m leaving. Don’t count on me coming back.”
His threat didn’t faze Poppy. “Don’t forget your coffee.” She turned and grabbed a to-go cup and filled it from the coffee pot on the back wall.
Randall grunted as he slipped on his cap and prepared his cane. Then he took the cup from Poppy’s hand and started shuffling toward the door.
“See you tomorrow,” Poppy called to his back.
Randall just shook his head and kept walking.
“Cheerful guy,” I teased.
Poppy laughed. “And you caught him on a good day. Yesterday he threatened to leave me a bad Yelp review because I wouldn’t make him six espressos. But he’ll be back tomorrow to keep me and Molly company.”
“Grouchy exterior, heart of gold?” I guessed.
“Exactly.” She smiled. “Hang tight, I’ll get your food. Do you want to sit up here or at a table?”
“Would you sit—”
“Poppy—” Molly came rushing out of the kitchen, interrupting my dinner invitation, but stopped when she spotted me. “Oh, hey, Cole. How are you?”
“Good.” I returned her smile. “Just getting dinner.”
“Perfect timing! Poppy was just going to take a dinner break too. You can keep each other company.”
I guess I didn’t need to ask Poppy to eat with me after all. Thanks, Molly.
“I never should have told you,” Poppy muttered.
Told her what?
“Are you going to eat with Cole?” Molly’s smile got wider as I looked between her and Poppy. “Yes or no, Poppy-bear?”
“Yes.”
“And tomorrow, are you going to take the morning off? Yes or no?”
Poppy’s teeth gritted. “Yes.”
“And are you going to let me hire another part-time worker so you don’t burn yourself out?”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Answer the question,” Molly pressed. “Yes or no? Are you going to let me hire another person?”
“Yes,” Poppy hissed.
What the hell? I was definitely missing something here, but before I could ask, Poppy threw her hands in the air and stormed back into the kitchen as Molly burst into laughter.
When she’d caught her breath, Molly wiped tears from the corners of her eyes and leaned a hip against the counter. “She has to say yes to everything today, and I’m taking advantage because it’s for her own good.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “Let me guess. Another birthday list item?”
Molly straightened. “She told you about the list?”
“Yeah. The last time I was here.” Shit. “Should I have kept that a secret?”
“No, but it is interesting.” Molly studied me for a long moment, then smiled. “I like you, Cole. Poppy does too, even if she won’t admit it. Just go easy, my friend. Go easy.”
“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
She shrugged. “Takes too long.”
“Agreed.” I smiled, then slid off my stool and walked over to an empty table along the far wall.
The restaurant was busy tonight but not packed. Everyone seated had already gotten their meals so I sat and people-watched until Poppy came out of the kitchen with a tray of food and waters. She set down two steaming jelly jars filled with macaroni and cheese.
I inhaled the cheesy smell. “This smells great.”
“Thanks.” She handed me an unshaken jar of salad. “Shake that up and I’ll be right back.”
I did as I was told, shaking as she went behind the counter for plates and silverware. She came back and set the table, splitting the salad between us.
“I’ll share the salad but you better not take any of my pie. I’ve been promised dessert and I refuse to share.”
She giggled and did a mock salute. “Understood, Detective.”
We ate quietly, each of us diving into our salad and pasta. The gentle hum of other conversations filled the room until Poppy broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?”
I nodded as I swallowed my bite of macaroni. “Shoot.”
She waited a second before speaking softly. “Why did you stay that night? You sat with me for hours, even after my brother arrived.”
I blinked, surprised by the serious question, then set down my fork and leaned in closer. “I stayed because I didn’t want you to be alone. Your brother was on the phone and dealing with stuff. I just . . . I didn’t want you to be by yourself on that couch.”
She looked down at her plate, poking at her salad. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I was just doing my job.”
It was more than that, but my real motives were damn hard to explain. Delivering the news of James Maysen’s death had been fucking extreme, something I’d never done before. At the time, I’d chalked up my late-night vigil to the difficult situation. But now—now that I’d been around her again—I knew it wasn’t just the circumstances that had made me stay.
It was Poppy.
I hadn’t been able to leave her side until I’d known she was in good hands. So I’d sat by her side until she’d fallen asleep on the couch and her brother had taken my place.
“What made you ask?”
She shrugged and speared a bite of lettuce. “Just curious.”
She may as well have said, “End of discussion.” Not that I would have pressed anyway. I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for her to think about that night, let alone talk about it. And with a restaurant full of people, tonight wasn’t the time for a recap.
If she ever wanted to talk about that night, I’d be all ears. If she never wanted to speak of it again, that was fine too.
“I hear you’re saying yes to everything today?” I chased a bite of macaroni with some water.
She nodded, smiling again as she chewed.
“A guy could take advantage of that.”
Her chewing stopped and her blue eyes snapped to mine.
“Me, for example. I could use this to get exactly what I want.”
I didn’t miss the way her eyes flared, and damn, it was sexy. If things were farther along—if this were a year from now and we were in a different place—I could have used this game to have her moaning yes all night long. But we weren’t there, and I wasn’t a complete asshole.
But I did love to tease.
“Poppy,” I whispered, leaning closer.
Her breaths were shallow as she waited.
“Will you bring me both the mixed berry and the apple pie?”
She blinked twice, then a hand flew over her mouth—still full of salad—covering it as she laughed. “Yes.”
I grinned, si
tting back in my chair and digging into my food. “Maybe you can tell me more about this list too? It seems like every time I see you you’re on to something new.”
Her hand fell. “You really want to know?”
“I really want to know.”
Cole’s interest in Jamie’s birthday list surprised me. No one but me had ever gotten excited about the list since Jamie had died, but Cole was genuinely curious. And eager, maybe? Whatever it was, I liked the sparkle it added to his eyes.
“Okay, um . . .” The best way for me to explain everything on the list was just to hand over the journal, except no one but me and Jamie had ever touched it before. Would it be strange to let Cole read it? Would that have bothered Jamie? I smiled to myself. No. Jamie had been so proud of his list, he’d have plastered it on a billboard.
“Be right back.” I held up a finger to Cole, then got up from the table and walked to the register. Leaning over the counter, I dug through my purse, which I’d stashed underneath the register. When my fingers brushed leather, I pulled out Jamie’s journal, stroking the cover once before standing back up.
The second I turned back to our table, I found Cole’s gaze locked on the place where my ass had just been. His eyes were darker, the spark behind them now a blaze. He didn’t even try to hide it as his gaze traced up my stomach and over my breasts. He lingered a bit on my chest, drawing out his inspection, until he finally continued to my face. When his stare found my lips, I fought the urge to lick them. When he found my eyes, I didn’t want to blink.
Sexy. Cole was the epitome of sexy. The sexiest man I’d ever seen.
No, not Cole. Jamie. What was wrong with me? I blinked, forcing my eyes away from Cole’s as I mentally chastised myself again. Jamie was the sexiest man I’d ever seen. Jamie. My husband.
Cole was just new. That’s why I found him so attractive. I hadn’t spent years with him, studying his face and finding flaws. I bet if I looked at him long enough, I’d realize that his ears were kind of pointed and his eyebrows were on the bushy side. And he had to have some imperfections underneath his jeans and black polo. No one was that cut—not in real life.
If I spent the time with Cole, like I had with Jamie, I’d realize he wasn’t an Adonis. He was just a man. A man who wasn’t Jamie.