Kissing Cousins

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “No doubt,” Poppy said. Still, as she used her ring finger to apply a light layer of lip gloss to her lips, she wondered if Mark was really as gorgeous as she remembered. Was he really as gorgeous as Swaggart, or had she just imagined he was?

  “A lot has happened since you last saw him,” Whitney said, still concentrating on the comics page.

  “Like what?” Poppy asked, feigning ignorance. Whitney wouldn’t buy it, she knew. Still, she had to try.

  “Like you’ve tasted the manly kiss of my cousin Swaggart, that’s what,” Whitney said. “And from as rattled and uptight as you’ve been this week—I’d say he did a real bang-up job of checking that little item off your list.”

  Poppy put her hands to her cheeks as they turned crimson. “Yeah…well…” she said, trying to downplay the subject.

  “Oh, come on, Poppy!” Whitney exclaimed then. “You haven’t said hardly anything about what happened, and I’ve tried to leave you alone about it—but you have to tell me! Was it worth all those years of dreaming? Was he as good as you thought he’d be? ’Fess up!”

  “He’s your cousin, Whitney,” Poppy said. “It’s weird.”

  “It is not!” Whitney argued. “Did Swaggart ring your bell or not? You have to tell me! I mean, if he’s a terrible kisser, then it’s a reflection on me.”

  “What?” Poppy exclaimed with a giggle. “How is it a reflection on you?”

  “He’s my cousin! He’s family! People might think it’s a genetic disposition—bad kissing!”

  Poppy laughed. “You are so full of beans, Whitney Dexter! You just want to know if he was worth being at the top of my list.”

  “Yeah, I do,” Whitney admitted, smiling. “But by the way you’ve fumbled and bumbled around this week—I’d say that’s a great big yes!”

  “Okay, fine,” Poppy said. “I admit it—my bell has been ringing ever since. Are you happy?”

  Whitney’s smile broadened, and she nodded. “Yes—I am. It reflects well on the family.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Poppy giggled.

  “Do you think Mr. Gorgeous Mark Lawson can do as well?” Whitney asked, casually returning her attention to the comics.

  “I’m sure he can, but I don’t plan to find out today—if that’s what you’re implying,” Poppy said.

  In truth, she wasn’t sure Mark Lawson’s kiss could have the same effect on her that Swaggart’s had—she wasn’t sure anyone’s ever could! Still, Mark seemed to be a wonderful man—why couldn’t it be possible that, eventually, he could drive Swaggart’s kiss from her mind?

  “We’re just getting to know each other,” Poppy continued, making sure she had her cell phone in her purse. “You don’t just go kissing somebody—like, you know—making out with somebody when you’ve never really dated or anything.”

  “Oh, don’t you?” Whitney asked eyebrows curved in a daring arch.

  “Swaggart’s different, and you know it,” Poppy said. “I’ve known him forever and besides…besides…”

  “Besides—he was on the list. He’s immune to regular rules because he was on the list—I get it,” Whitney said. “I’m just glad you got to finish your list. I’ll never be able to do that.”

  “Well, I’m thinking of making a new one,” Poppy said.

  “With Mark Lawson as item number one?” Whitney teased.

  “Shut up and read your comics, brat,” Poppy said, smiling.

  In truth, she’d already begun a new list. However, she’d been wise enough not to include any items that would demand she found a way to kiss somebody. Though—the thought had crossed her mind at putting Swaggart Moretti at the top of the new list again. Kissing him had been such a euphoric wonderment she’d be lying if she didn’t admit she wanted to kiss him again. But in truth, she had!

  Poppy smiled, remembering the way he’d so forcefully kissed her in the alcove the day before. All day she’d wondered why he had—had he enjoyed kissing her as much as she had enjoyed kissing him and simply wanted a rematch? Had he simply been teasing her? Had he just wanted to make sure she wasn’t all freaky about what had happened between them? Secretly, she wished he’d kissed her because he’d discovered he suddenly had feelings for her—but that was too far-fetched and romance novel-ish to be a true contemplation. Wasn’t it?

  “I think I just heard a Beamer drive up,” Whitney said, abandoning the newspaper and racing for the window.

  “Whit!” Poppy scolded in a whisper. “He’ll see you peeking through the blinds!”

  “Naw,” Whitney said. “Guys never think to look for stuff like that. Yep! It’s him! He’s here, and he looks delicious! Ooooo—I bet you’re going to have the time of your life!”

  Poppy giggled. Yet, a pang of regret echoed in her bosom—she’d already had the time of her life—last Saturday night in Good Ol’ Days Family Restaurant, at the hand of Swaggart Moretti. It was hard to believe anything could ever be as wonderful.

  Still, as Poppy opened the door to see Mark’s gorgeous, smiling face, she thought she might be wrong. Why couldn’t this guy be as wonderful as the other? Why couldn’t a girl have loved peach pie her whole life but find out that apple pie was even better?

  “Hi there,” Mark said.

  “Hi,” Poppy said, smiling.

  “You ready for the greatest day of your life?” he asked.

  Poppy giggled. It was as if he’d tuned into her soul and was reassuring her apple pie could be better than peach.

  “I sure am,” she answered.

  “Good,” Mark said, his dark eyes glowing with a sort of mischievous twinkle. “Then let’s go.”

  As Mark drove his BMW toward Hollander Park, Poppy quickly studied him and smiled.

  He wore brand name jeans, a bright yellow polo shirt, and brown deck shoes. In truth, he looked quite nautical, and completely attractive! Poppy endeavored to push the vision of Swaggart in his jeans and tight white t-shirt to the back of her mind—swallowed the excess moisture that flooded her mouth at the thought of him.

  “It’s a great day for this,” Mark said. “I’m going to make sure it’s one you’ll never forget.”

  “Wow!” Poppy said. “I feel all special and stuff.”

  “Good,” Mark said, winking at her. “That’s what I want.”

  Poppy smiled and bit her lip, delighted with his flirtatious manner. This was going to be a day she would never forget—she could already tell.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lunch was fabulous! Mark had stopped at the little bistro near Hollander Park and ordered them each the pita bread chicken salad. Poppy tried not to think of how much better Swaggart’s chicken salad was—just concentrated on the fact that the bistro’s was delicious—how delicious Mark was!

  The day seemed to grow more beautiful with every passing moment. By the time Poppy and Mark had finished lunch at the bistro, the water of Hollander Park’s small lake was as smooth and as calm as any lazy summer day ever was.

  Mark helped Poppy into the canoe, set a small picnic basket near her feet, and settled himself across from her. He pushed off, and Poppy’s heart fluttered when he smiled at her and said, “I love doing this.”

  “Do you do this often?” she asked. She wondered how many other girls Mark had paddled around the lake.

  “I bring my mom sometimes,” he said. “Or my little sisters—but you’re the first non-relative I’ve ever brought.”

  Poppy giggled and said, “That was a good answer!”

  “That was a true answer,” he said, flashing one of his stunning smiles.

  “So, how has your week been?” she asked him.

  He shrugged and answered, “Pretty good. I landed a couple of big accounts this week—sorta made up for my blowing Susan Reginald off.”

  Poppy smiled.

  “How about you?”

  “It was pretty busy at the restaurant all week long,” she told him. “Summers are always the craziest time!”

  “You know, my friend Braden…remember him?” he aske
d.

  “Of course,” she said. How could she forget the night Mark had come to the restaurant—after having sent the beautiful roses?

  “He loved your place,” Mark continued. “Told me over and over it was the best salmon he’d ever had, how fun the joint was—you know, everything.”

  “It is a great place to work,” Poppy said. “You know Whitney, my roommate? She’s the granddaughter of the owner—it’s how I got my foot in the door. I bet we have at least ten to twenty people a week stopping in to ask if we’re hiring.”

  “Seriously?” he asked.

  “Yeah! It’s a great place to work, and I think people pick up on that and want to be a part of it,” she said. “Mr. Dexter’s looking to hire another waiter or waitress, and I don’t envy him—having to sift through everyone who is going to want the job.”

  “No kidding,” Mark agreed.

  He paddled for a moment in silence, and Poppy took the opportunity to let her eyes and mind linger on the beauty of the scenery. The cottonwood trees lining the banks of the lake hummed with the songs of cicadas, and Poppy had the notion she’d never seen so many different colors of wildflowers in the same place.

  The water was still and very clear, and fish jumped here and there around her. There was just a hint of a breeze now and then, and the quiet, peaceful atmosphere was soothing to her senses.

  “So,” Mark said. “Anything exciting happen in your life since I saw you last?”

  Poppy nearly choked! Was he kidding? She’d kissed Swaggart Moretti, that’s what! But she certainly couldn’t explain that to him, so she simply answered, “Nope. How ’bout you?”

  “One of my little sisters just got engaged—this past Tuesday, actually,” he said.

  “Really?” Poppy asked. “Is it a good thing?” He didn’t seem all that excited about it.

  He shrugged and said, “I guess so. I think I’m just being paranoid—I mean, she is my baby sister, and I do feel protective. The guy seems nice enough—he’s got a good job, drives a sweet ride—but I’m still a little nervous about it.”

  “How old is she?” Poppy asked. She was curious as to just how old Mark was. Perhaps knowing his sister’s age would give her a clue.

  “Twenty-two,” he said. “She’s old enough—but I still worry. Do you understand?”

  “I do, and you wouldn’t be a good brother if you weren’t worried,” Poppy told him.

  “I suppose,” he said. “He seems like a nice guy, and I really can’t find anything wrong with him—so I guess I should just relax.”

  “Probably,” Poppy said.

  Mark smiled at her and quit paddling for a moment.

  “You know you’re adorable, don’t you?” he asked.

  “What?” Poppy asked, blushing to the tips of her toes.

  “Adorable and beautiful—it’s rare,” he said, smiling at her.

  “Ooo! Mark Lawson—handsome and charming! What a rarity that is,” she said, trying to push Swaggart from her thoughts.

  “If you’re the prize at the end of the rainbow, then I’m sure glad I endured that dinner with Miss Susan Reginald,” he said, winking at her.

  “Keep it up, Prince Charming, and I might swoon or something,” Poppy giggled.

  “Yeah! Do it! Then I can wake you up by kissing you again,” he flirted.

  He seemed too good to be true! Such a romantic! Poppy tried to accept him at face value—tried not to be so skeptical about such a wonderful man finding her interesting.

  Mark leisurely paddled them around the lake for over an hour. As they talked, enjoying the warmth and beauty of summer, Poppy began to release her inhibitions, let go of her suspicions. Mark Lawson was unusual in the depth of his character—he seemed to be exactly what he appeared to be, and Poppy grew more and more encouraged.

  Eventually, Mark pulled the canoe ashore on the opposite side of the lake. Assisting Poppy out of the canoe, he retrieved the picnic basket.

  “What have you got in there anyway?” Poppy asked.

  “I stopped off at the bakery and picked up dessert,” he said.

  Poppy smiled. How sweet! she thought. In her experience, men like Mark Lawson—courteous, thoughtful, and romantic—were few and very far between. Men who thought of dessert were even fewer and farther between. In fact, Swaggart was the only other man she could think of who…

  Again, Poppy pushed Swaggart to the back of her mind. She was with Mark now, and he was wonderful! Taking her hand, Mark led her to a nearby tree. As she watched, he opened the small picnic basket and withdrew a folded plastic tablecloth, spreading it on the ground beneath the tree.

  “Don’t want to get our clothes dirty, right?” he explained to her as he sat down on the plastic tablecloth. He patted the space next to him, and she sat down. “Now,” he began, reaching into the basket again, “I wasn’t quite sure where your dessert preferences run—though I know about your addiction to Peanut Buster Parfaits at Dairy Queen,” he teased.

  “I’m pretty open when it comes to dessert,” Poppy told him. “It would be a challenge to find something I didn’t like.”

  “Good—because I love this Italian cream spice cake,” he said, pulling out a plastic bakery container.

  Poppy could see it contained two slices of a delicious-looking, three-layer cake.

  “And,” he added reaching into the basket and withdrawing two small bottles of milk. “I even brought something to wash it down with.”

  “Now this is living,” Poppy said as Mark handed her a bottle of milk and a plastic fork. “Cake eaten outside always tastes better.”

  “Exactly,” Mark chuckled.

  *

  It was a beautiful few hours spent beneath the cottonwood trees on the banks of the little lake. Poppy couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed a day more. She and Mark talked for hours, about everything imaginable—work, hobbies, family. It was a lovely way to twitter away an afternoon.

  “There’s a concert at the amphitheater at five,” he said. “A string quartet performing John Williams selections. What do you think?”

  “Sounds fabulous,” Poppy said. It just seemed to be getting better!

  “Great,” Mark said, standing and stretching. Poppy didn’t miss the way the muscles in his arms bulged as he stretched—the fact that the ribbing of his shirtsleeves was distressed into nearly bursting at the seams because of the size of his biceps. She wondered for a moment if Mark would fill out a tight white t-shirt as well as Swaggart did.

  “We’ll paddle back to the dock and get a good seat on the grass before people start showing up,” he said, offering her his hand.

  Poppy smiled at him and accepted his hand. He pulled her to her feet but kept hold of her hand, staring at her with a rather mesmerized grin on his face.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

  Poppy’s heart panged as Swaggart’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. The memory of the night she’d spent in Good Ol’ Days kissing him washed over her like a warm rain. Yet it had been an isolated incident—one moment in time when two friends had come together in singular purpose. The thought quickly traveled through her mind—But what was the purpose? Then she remembered her list—she and Swaggart had shared those wonderful hours simply because of her list. Hadn’t they? She thought of the moment he’d pulled her into the alcove and kissed her again—offering no explanation—no reason.

  Shaking her head to try and dispel the thoughts of Swaggart, she smiled at Mark.

  “I don’t know—can you?” she teased. He smiled, and she knew he understood her grammatical witticism.

  “Oh, definitely,” he said.

  Poppy’s heart rate increased as Mark took her face between his hands and kissed her. His palms were soft against her face, his lips soft against her own. A tiny flutter began in Poppy’s bosom—Mark Lawson was kissing her! He kissed her softly, tenderly several times in succession, and she was conscious he was being careful not to press her. Swaggart’s image flashed in her mind, and her heart swelled�
�yet she could not discern whether the sudden swelling sensation in her heart was because Mark Lawson was kissing her or because Swaggart’s image had flashed through her mind.

  Slowly, Mark pulled her into his arms. The pressure of his kiss increased, and Poppy frowned, abruptly uncertain as to whether or not she wanted him to continue kissing her. Mark must have sensed her hesitation, for he slowly returned to the soft, tender manner of kissing her. He kissed her for several moments before releasing her, smiling down at her, and taking hold of one of her hands.

  “Let’s pick this stuff up and get over to the amphitheater,” he said.

  “Okay,” Poppy said, smiling at him. Dang, he was attractive! And she was certain she’d be more comfortable kissing him next time—next time—when she’d known him longer—when Swaggart’s recent kiss had faded from her thoughts a bit.

  *

  The concert was wonderful, the weather fantastic! She smiled at the thoughtful way he’d spread the plastic tablecloth on the ground for them before the concert had begun. Still, Poppy liked to sit in the grass, and she wished he would’ve had a little less concern for her comfort. Yet who could fault a man for being so considerate? Mark had been quite attentive to Poppy during the performance too—always an arm around her waist, holding her hand, or brushing a piece of grass from her hair.

  Once the concert ended, Mark had stopped and ordered them both a fast-food burger and onion rings. As they sat in his car eating their meal, they discussed the concert, their jobs, and families—casual, comfortable conversation—the best kind of conversation.

  “I guess I better be getting you home,” Mark said, once they’d finished their meal.

  “What time is it?” Poppy asked. She did feel tired. She wondered how she had managed to stay up until all hours of the morning kissing Swaggart and not feel the least bit fatigued—yet a day on the lake had worn her out.

  “Ten,” Mark said. “Do I get to see the inside of your apartment this time?” he asked then. “Maybe even officially meet your roommate?”