by Cindy Kirk
She’d attended Jackson Hole High with everyone except Betsy Harcourt. But when Ryan walked up with his wife, Poppy recognized the woman dressed in a flirty bronze-colored dress. Betsy had been a friend of her sister Aimee’s.
“It’s good to see you both,” Ryan said as he shook Ben’s hand then smiled at Poppy. “I don’t know if you’ve met my wife, Betsy.”
Before Ryan had a chance to complete the introductions, Betsy jumped in.
“You’re Aimee’s sister, right?” Betsy’s freckled face grew animated. “I’m sure you don’t remember me but she and I used to hang around together.”
“Of course I remember.” Poppy had always liked Aimee’s shy friend. “You two worked on that science project in middle school.”
Betsy grimaced. “Yes, well, just know that I hold myself personally responsible for the drop in her GPA that semester. Aimee was brilliant, but science was always a struggle for me. What’s she doing now?”
Poppy told her Aimee was a design engineer, who now lived in Sacramento with her husband and two children. She learned Ryan and Betsy had a little boy who would turn one in the fall.
Cole and Meg strolled up with Tripp and Anna. As the conversation swirled around her, Poppy realized she knew those at the table even better than Ben. Or at least their history. It was easy to forget Ben’s parents had sent him off to boarding school at twelve. He hadn’t been part of their high school crowd.
“It sounds as if it’s really going to happen,” Meg said to Betsy, her voice shaking with excitement. “I bet you’re so excited.”
With her auburn hair, freckles and lean frame, Meg was more striking than pretty. Yet there was something about her that drew people to her, that made them feel comfortable around her.
Though Betsy and Meg were talking quite openly across the table, Poppy wasn’t sure if this was a private or a public conversation. She took a bite of salad and chased it with a sip of water.
Ben was busy discussing investment strategies with Cole while Anna and Tripp chatted with Ryan.
“We believe he’ll be out of prison by Christmas,” Betsy said.
“Prison?” The word popped out before Poppy could stop it. “Who’s in prison?”
“My brother, Keenan.” Betsy swiveled in her seat toward Poppy. “He was unjustly convicted of murder. The person who set up the killing needed a scapegoat. My brother was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I remember Keenan.” Poppy slanted a sideways glance at Cole then at Ryan, his two best high school buddies. “I guess I knew he wasn’t in Jackson Hole, but I didn’t realize he was incarcerated.”
“We’re hoping he’ll be released by Christmas. Maybe even sooner.” Happiness laced through Betsy’s words like a pretty ribbon.
“I asked Keenan to a turnabout dance in middle school,” Poppy said, then heaved an exaggerated sigh. “He turned me down. He was nice about it, though.”
“He probably didn’t have anything to wear,” Betsy said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Until he was old enough to work, there was no money for extras.”
Poppy gave a shrug. “I assumed I wasn’t his type.”
“He’d be happy you didn’t suspect money was an issue,” Betsy said. “The last thing either of us wanted was anyone’s pity.”
Poppy placed her hand on Betsy’s arm. “Please let him know I’m pulling for him.”
“Who?” Ben asked. Apparently derivatives could only hold a man’s interest for so long.
“Keenan, Betsy’s brother, might be getting out of prison soon,” Poppy told Ben. “He got sent there for a crime he didn’t commit. I had a huge crush on him in middle school.”
“I had the biggest crush on Tripp in middle school. For that matter in high school, too.” Anna Randall spoke for the first time. “He didn’t know I existed.”
“I did, too,” Tripp said with a halfhearted protest.
“It’s okay.” Anna slipped her arm through his and brushed her lips against his cheek, then gently wiped off the lipstick with her fingertip.
Tripp captured her hand and brought it to his mouth.
Observing the sweet, intimate gesture, Poppy’s heart twisted. Tripp had dated her dearest friend, Gayle, all through high school. They’d married after college but their happiness had been short-lived. Gayle had died from pregnancy complications four years ago.
“Did you have a steady boyfriend in high school?”
Ben’s question pulled Poppy’s attention back to him. She shook her head. “I dated a lot but no one seriously. That was deliberate.”
“Really?” Curiosity blanketed Meg’s face.
“I wanted to go away to college then live in a big city. Getting serious so young would have put a chink in my plan.”
“You were married, right?” Betsy asked.
Poppy nodded. “My divorce was final a couple of years ago.”
“I heard a rumor.” Anna’s cheeks turned a dusky pink and she appeared to be deliberately avoiding her husband’s gaze. “Are you and Ben living together?”
There were times when it was possible to have a private discussion even when surrounded by people. This wasn’t one of those times.
Anna’s question had been delivered at the exact moment of a conversational lull. All eyes turned to Poppy.
Beneath the table Ben took her hand. She darted a glance sideways and the look in his eyes told her he was willing to answer the question and take the heat off her.
She shook her head ever so slightly and smiled at Anna. “Ben moved in with me last week.”
“You moved into her place?” Tripp’s tone was clearly disbelieving. “You said you were living together, but I thought, well, you have that beautiful new home in Willowbrook, so I assumed—”
“Assumptions are never a good idea, Randall.” Cole Lassiter grunted when his wife elbowed him in the side.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Tripp said, now flustered.
Before Poppy could respond, Ben’s lips lifted in a smile. “We like to keep it cozy.”
“Ah, that’s so sweet.” Betsy heaved a sigh.
“Good for you,” Meg added.
“Now, when the baby comes—” Ben began, but that was as far as he got before both he and Poppy were peppered with questions followed by hearty congratulations.
Thankfully, the lights soon dimmed. The video presentation about the assortment of obstetrical equipment tonight’s event would fund began. Blessed silence fell over the table. Poppy felt the last of her tension slip away.
Tonight had gone far better than she’d envisioned. Ben had been an excellent companion, solicitous without being stifling. His arm rested against hers as he’d swiveled in his chair to better view the film.
She inhaled the spicy scent of his cologne. He caught her staring and smiled, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm before refocusing on the movie. The longing that rose inside her nearly swamped her with its intensity. How Poppy wished she could forget her reservations and embrace the possibilities of a full and rich relationship with Ben.
But emotion had led her into a marriage with a man who was all wrong for her. Though Ben wasn’t an arrogant jerk, he had a healthy ego and a strong personality. Been there. Done that, she thought.
Still, becoming friends with the man beside her was her priority. She had seven months to get to know Ben and for him to get to know her.
With a firm foundation built on mutual respect and trust, they’d figure out the best way to co-parent this child they’d created. Then they could both get on with their lives.
* * *
“That went well.” Ben dropped the car keys on the table inside the apartment’s door and collapsed on the sofa.
Poppy took a seat beside him and slipped off her shoes. During the evening the mile high heels, w
hich had been super comfortable in the boutique, had morphed into instruments of torture. She massaged her arch. “Everyone took the news about the baby in stride.”
“Lots of congratulations,” he agreed.
Poppy slanted a sideways glance. “I thought we might run across your parents.”
“Bob and Linda, their friends in Idaho City, are celebrating one of those milestone anniversaries.” Unexpectedly he pulled her feet into his lap.
“Hey,” she protested. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” He gently stretched the foot up and down while the other hand cupped and supported the heel. “I’m giving you a foot massage.”
Sitting on the sofa with Ben felt oddly intimate, especially with his large, skillful hands working their magic.
For a fraction of a second Poppy considered calling a halt, but then he squeezed her foot with both of his hands and the feelings of absolute pleasure wouldn’t allow her to act so foolishly.
“You have fabulous hands.” Her body shuddered.
“I believe you mentioned that several times the night we spent together,” he said with a wicked smile.
“I have a vague recollection of that,” she said, stifling a moan when his thumbs stroked the bottom of her foot.
“After I finish, I could give you a repeat demonstration of how versatile these hands can be.”
“Very funny.”
“The offer remains on the table.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” she murmured, then released a moan as he found the sweet spot, er, the grooves between the bones and tendons, and stroked with firm pressure.
“Tell me about your parents.”
For a second Poppy widened her eyes, not sure she’d heard correctly. “What do you want to know about them?”
“Start with your relationship with your mother. Are you close?”
“We’re very alike.” Poppy puffed out her cheeks then released the air. “That’s why my mom and I clash. Aimee has my father’s personality. I have to admit that sometimes I’m jealous of the easy relationship my mom has with my sister.”
His hand ran gently up her calf, leaving sparks of heat on the skin. “When I meet your mother, what will be my impression?”
“She’s a woman with strong opinions of right and wrong.” Concentrating on the question became increasingly difficult as he continued to stroke the bottom of her foot. “My mom has a loving heart but can be pigheaded. Though she likes to laugh and have fun, she’s mostly serious. Oh, and she refuses to go out of the house without being perfectly put together.”
“And you’re like her.”
“All but the pigheaded part,” she said and made him laugh.
“What are your plans for tomorrow?”
In the fervent hope of prolonging the massage, Poppy had planned to also tell him about her father and sister. But apparently he’d lost interest in her family.
Poppy rested her head against the back of the sofa. “Laundry. Some cleaning. What about you?”
“It’s supposed to be unseasonably warm.”
“That’s a weather forecast, not an answer.”
“I thought about picking up Groucho and having a picnic.”
“You and Groucho?”
He laughed, a deep heartfelt laugh. “You. Me. Groucho.”
“A picnic.” Poppy frowned. “Would I have to sit on the ground?”
Ben grinned then gave her foot a quick squeeze. “That’s up to you. But sometimes getting down and dirty can be a lot of fun.”
Chapter Fourteen
The instant Poppy opened her eyes the next morning, a scratchy pain in her right eye had her turning from the light. She didn’t need a doctor to tell her she’d scratched her cornea. Again.
She grabbed the lubricating eye drops from the bedside and bathed her sore eye in the comforting liquid. The contact lenses would remain in the case for today.
Great. Just great.
Pushing back the covers, Poppy swung her feet over the side of the bed and, after grabbing a robe, padded barefoot into the kitchen. She saw the note on the table. After putting on her glasses, Poppy read it before she headed for the shower.
Her mother called before she reached the bathroom and a conversation Poppy thought would last five minutes ended up pushing twenty. Still, she was dressed and sipping a cup of decaffeinated herbal tea when she heard the key in the door. Seconds later, Groucho burst like a bullet into the room. His tail wagged wildly as he zigzagged, checking out the room.
Ben wore jeans, a long-sleeved cotton shirt and boots. It should be a crime for a man to look so sexy this early in the morning.
“Help yourself to coffee.” Poppy gestured toward the kitchen counter.
“Thanks.”
One word shouldn’t tell her anything. Especially one word said from someone she barely knew. But it did. “How were your parents?”
She felt rather than saw his shoulders stiffen.
“Fine,” he said.
While she knew Ben well enough to see something had upset him, she didn’t have a clue how to proceed. Should she wait for him to tell her what was troubling him? Or did he need encouragement to share?
Perhaps his confidences would come more easily if she did a little sharing of her own. Poppy walked to the tiny window that overlooked the parking lot. For several seconds she stood, letting the sun heat her face. “My mother called this morning.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him turn to face her, a ceramic mug filled with coffee in his hand. “How is she?”
Poppy turned. The smile on her lips wobbled. “Disappointed.”
His gray eyes sharpened. “You told her you were pregnant.”
A sip of tea bought her time. “She mentioned she and Dad wouldn’t be able to come to Jackson until the fall. That meant I wasn’t going to be able to tell them in person. If I had vacation time, I could go to Sacramento for a few days, but I don’t.”
He took a step closer then stopped. “She had to know how much you wanted a baby. How you thought you’d never have one.”
“That’s what I’d hoped.” To her horror, Poppy’s eyes filled with tears.
Before she could blink them back, Ben moved to her, drew her in with his free arm and held her. She let her head rest against the broad chest, drawing comfort from him.
When she’d regained her composure, Poppy lifted her head. “I guess we can’t always be the person our parents want us to be.”
His smile was rueful. “You can say that again.”
She stepped from his arms and studied him. “Your parents?”
“My dad.” Ben pressed his lips together, his eyes like ice. “He’s a traditional guy.”
Poppy gave a strangled laugh. “Which I’m guessing translates to, why aren’t you marrying the woman you knocked up?”
“That’s pretty much the gist of it,” he admitted. “Though he did make it clear he likes you very much.”
That made Poppy feel slightly less angry with John Campbell for making his son feel bad. “Did you tell him I wouldn’t marry you even if you asked?”
“I told him,” Ben began, then paused for emphasis, “it wasn’t any of his business.”
“I tried that on my mother.” Poppy gave a humorless chuckle. “Didn’t go over well.”
He took a gulp of coffee. “The day will get better.”
“I’m not so sure. I scratched my cornea. Now I have to wear these.” Poppy tapped her index finger on the rim.
“I like you in glasses,” Ben said.
At her grimace, an amused look replaced the somberness in his eyes.
Poppy almost felt better. Then she remembered the disappointment in her mother’s voice. The long silence after she’d learne
d no wedding was planned. She raked a frustrated hand through her hair. “I need air. I’m going for a walk.”
Groucho jumped to his feet and let out a single bark.
Poppy scooped up her house key, then paused. “What’s up with him?”
“He heard the ‘W’ word.”
“W?”
Ben smiled. “Walk.”
The dog leaped in the air, a high whine emanating from his throat. He resumed sitting when Ben motioned him down with a hand gesture.
“Groucho can come,” Poppy said.
“What about me?” Ben shot her the same engaging smile that had gotten under her guard on Valentine’s Day.
And just like that night, Poppy found the combination of confident charm with a hint of uncertainty impossible to resist.
Poppy lifted a shoulder in what she hoped was an “it doesn’t matter to me” gesture. “Up to you.”
His smile broadened and he reached for the leash.
* * *
Ben couldn’t recall what he and Poppy talked about on their walk to the National Elk Refuge, other than it had nothing to do with her mother or his dad. He was hyper-conscious of her, the way her green eyes sparkled behind the lenses of her pretty red glasses, how she reached down to affectionately pat Groucho and the way his body responded when his arm brushed against hers.
What they did speak about had little substance. Still, it was enough for Ben to realize Poppy Westover cared deeply about a great many things.
It would have been difficult for a woman with such emotional depth to discover she’d married a man who didn’t respect his marriage vows.
He’d been lucky Kristin had called it quits before they’d walked down the aisle. It had been a real kick in the gut when she’d married a fellow resident barely three months later.
While his attraction—and respect—for Poppy deepened every day, he wasn’t concerned about losing his head this time. He wouldn’t make the mistake of loving a woman without reservation again.
“I needed this,” he heard Poppy say.
He slanted a questioning glance in her direction.
She gestured toward the blue sky, clear but for a few wispy clouds. “This is what I needed to clear my head of the garbage.”