“Don’t be silly, you wouldn’t be intruding.”
“I’d love if you came, Poppy,” Jamie said.
The only person who didn’t say anything was Beck. He kept staring at her. She didn’t know what that meant. “No, really. It’ll be nice to have dinner with my family.” Her parents were playing cards with the neighbors and Wynn was babysitting Holly so Cami and Hank could have an adult dinner alone, but only she knew that.
“If you change your mind,” Victoria said, “you’re more than welcome.”
Beck continued to stare. Poppy began to feel uncomfortable. And overheated. Had he seen her step back from the window? Did he know what she was feeling? Was it written all over her body?
She fussed with her hair even though it was already tidy and then fiddled with the seat belt for the dress box. She needed to go home, have a cold shower and figure out what to do about all this, but Jamie stopped her.
“Poppy, can you stick around for a bit?”
She paused. “Um, sure.” She moved to follow him inside, but Beck caught her arm.
Silently, they watched his mother drive off with a wave and Jamie head back into the house. They were alone.
“What is it?” She looked at him, into those dark, dark eyes, and felt herself slip a little further.
“I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone.” He bent his head and laid down the hottest, sexiest kiss Poppy had ever experienced. Seriously, she was surprised her head didn’t pop off.
She poured everything she felt into it. All those emotions newly risen to the surface, the ones that told her to trust him, trust this, because something this good should not be temporary. Even his mother thought they were a good match.
He smiled against her mouth. “Remind me to do that again later.”
“Later?” She was breathless but still managed to form a somewhat coherent thought. Okay, fine, so it was only one word. At least it made sense.
“You’re coming to dinner.” It wasn’t a question.
“But it’s family.”
“You’re coming.” He kissed her again and with one last look that practically scorched her clothes right off, he got in his car and drove away.
Poppy stood there for another minute until her pulse returned to normal and she had control of the goofy smile that kept trying to stretch across her face.
“You look happy,” Jamie said when she entered the kitchen.
Okay, not so controlled. “I am.” She hopped up on one of the stools around his breakfast bar and took a long sip of the lemonade he’d poured. He’d used the tall skinny glasses his mother had always used for lemonade.
They’d spent many hours as kids after school drinking milk and eating cookies in this kitchen. They’d never gone through that awkward point in their relationship where puberty hit and they’d started thinking of each other as more than friends. It had always been easy with him, friends forever.
“I want to thank you for everything you did for Emmy,” Jamie said as he sipped from his own glass. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
Poppy put her glass down carefully, recalling they’d been Jamie’s grandmother’s, and as kids they’d been taught to respect them. “I was happy to do it, Jamie. I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.” His face was serious when he spoke again. “I know you had some concerns about Emmy—”
“I don’t. Not anymore.” Emmy was lucky to have Jamie, but Poppy was coming around to the idea that Jamie was lucky to have Emmy, too. There was no mistaking the love they had for each other. And so what if they were getting married after only being together a short time? Plenty of long and successful marriages had started out that way. “I like her,” Poppy said. She meant it, too.
He reached out and gripped her hand. “Thank you.”
She squeezed back. “You’re going to be a great husband and father.” It felt a little like this was goodbye, but it didn’t make her sad. She was happy Jamie had found someone. Nerves fluttered in her belly.
Maybe she had, too.
“I hope so.” He gave her one more squeeze then let go. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You and Beck. You like him,” he said. It seemed it was obvious to everyone. Poppy wondered if she should have been more discreet. “And he likes you.”
Sparks flickered. Poppy clutched her glass and did her best to look cool. She would not get all giddy like a schoolgirl. She and Jamie didn’t have that kind of relationship. She’d save that for Wynn.
“I haven’t seen him like this before,” Jamie went on, apparently unaware she had lit up like a parade float. “He’s different. Happier.”
It’s what Victoria had said, too. And the surge of possibility crested through her again.
“I talked to him about it.” Jamie smiled and shook his head. “He tried to play it off, but you’re important to him.”
“He’s important to me, too.” She almost didn’t get the words out, trapped behind the woo-hoo happy shout rising in her throat. And the hope rising in her heart.
“So you’ll have dinner with us tonight?”
She couldn’t think of a reason not to.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE WEDDING WAS GORGEOUS. The sun was out, the grapes were ripe and Emmy looked as if she’d stepped out of the pages of a glossy magazine. Seriously, the models and actresses who graced the pages of those publications had nothing on her.
Poppy stood and sighed as the bride came down the aisle with her father. Emmy’s beautiful blue eyes were damp, her lips curved in excitement, and her dress was exquisite. Georgia had managed to take in the waist without affecting the draping of the gown.
Jamie looked pretty radiant himself waiting at the end of the runner for his bride. While they looked at each other, hands clasped as they spoke words of eternity and love, Poppy only hoped something similar might be in her future. She couldn’t help her gaze straying to Beck, who stood beside his cousin all tall and dark and hers. He looked as good in a tux as he did in jeans. She envisioned peeling him out of it later.
The ceremony ended and everyone filed into the large backyard where only a week earlier they’d hosted a welcome barbecue. But the two events couldn’t have looked more different.
Tonight the music was classical only, servers carried flutes of champagne and platters of prawns on ice and a chef worked a station serving rack of lamb. There were tables spread out across the lawn, crisp linens fluttered in the breeze and the centerpieces were crystal buckets filled with grapes.
Poppy sat with her sister at one of the tables. There were no place cards and people milled about, enjoying predinner cocktails and canapés. Holly bounced in Poppy’s lap, asking every ten seconds if she could go and play now.
“Not yet, honey,” Cami said. She rubbed her belly. “Wait for Daddy.”
“Okay.” Holly giggled happily and bounced some more.
“You feeling okay?” Poppy glanced at her sister’s distended belly. “It’s not coming out tonight, is it?”
“It’s not an it.”
“Well, we don’t know the sex and I thought he-she sounded weird. Like you were birthing a drag queen.”
“Very funny.” Cami snorted. Poppy figured since she was well enough to snort, she must be okay. “Speaking of S-E-X.”
“Not sure how you found yourself in the family way?” Poppy grinned. “Well, see the man—”
“You’re quite the comedian today.”
“I try.”
“So it’s good?”
“Very.” Really, there were no words to describe it, so she didn’t bother trying. But she couldn’t help the smile from spreading across her face. It wasn’t only the sex—it was also the talks they shared, and just being together. And,
yes, it was the conversations she’d had with Jamie and Victoria. Those conversations had given her permission to admit what was in her heart. That she was already half in love with Beck Lefebvre. Again.
“As in great?”
“As in I could die happy.”
“I knew it.” Cami clasped her hands awkwardly around her belly. “That smolder you’ve been wearing totally gave you away.”
“I don’t smolder.” Though she thought she might like to. Smolder sounded so adult and powerful. A woman in control who did whatever she wanted and left men trailing along behind her, caught up in the wake of her smoldering. She tickled Holly, who squealed and pointed to her dad before leaping down to go and play with some other kids her age.
“So what does it mean?” Cami asked after checking that Hank was watching to make sure their daughter didn’t pull off a tablecloth or cause other trouble.
Poppy shrugged. She’d only recently come to the conclusion she didn’t want this thing with Beck to end. She hadn’t talked to him about it yet. She’d considered bringing it up last night after the family dinner at the main house when Beck had insisted she stay the night with him. But things had been light and fun. They’d laughed, played cards and then Beck had insisted they needed to play strip Go Fish, which had been even more fun. Having a heavy-duty conversation about where this was going hadn’t seemed right.
Besides, she was pretty sure she had an idea where things were going.
“Is it a fling?”
“No.” Poppy’s voice was quiet. She didn’t have an official announcement to make. Not yet. But it wasn’t a fling.
“Oh, wow.” Cami sat back, looking smug. “You’ve fallen for him.”
“How can you tell?” She didn’t bother to deny it.
“Um, the smiley glow all over your face. You always look like that when you’re in love. And believe me, I’ve seen that face enough times to know.”
“You’re talking as if me falling in love is an everyday occurrence. Ridiculous.” She was too practical for that to be true. But her cheeks flushed in spite of her protests. She pressed the back of her hand to her face. And anyway, she wouldn’t say she was in love, just that there was a possibility.
“Seriously?” Cami rolled her eyes. “You fall in love all the time.”
“I don’t,” Poppy said. She’d only had two serious boyfriends. Jason, her university sweetheart, and Evan.
“Yes, you do.” Cami waved Wynn over. “Doesn’t Poppy fall in love all the time?”
“All the time,” Wynn confirmed, settling in at the table with them.
“Two times,” Poppy reminded them. “Two, and I’m not even sure they were love.”
“Ooooh. Because it’s different this time?” Wynn wanted to know.
Poppy scowled but didn’t answer, because that was exactly what she’d been thinking. The emotions were different with Beck. She was different with Beck. Regardless, Wynn and Cami were still wrong. She did not fall in love all the time.
Even if she counted Jason and Evan, that was only twice. And twice was not all the time.
“Are you going to tell him?” Cami asked.
“And say what? ‘I love you. Let’s be together.’”
Cami laughed. “Yeah, because that won’t scare him away.”
“Exactly.” Poppy looked down at her skirt, which her hands were busily smoothing. She was going to wear a hole through it. “I’m going to see how it goes.”
She didn’t have to look up to identify the look Wynn and Cami shared.
“Stop it,” she told them. “I’m not putting any pressure on him. Or on me.”
Wynn smiled sadly. “She actually believes that,” he said to Cami.
“I know. Isn’t she the cutest?”
“I’m right here.” And she was getting annoyed. “I don’t know why you think I can’t be casual.”
She could be casual. Hadn’t she been casual this whole week?
Wynn patted Poppy on the hand while Cami continued to rub her belly. “You’re not the casual kind,” he told her. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Own your romantic little soul.”
“You think I’m a romantic?” When they both nodded, she was shocked to the soles of her feet. “How so?”
Wynn started. “You think The Bachelor is a viable way to meet a spouse.”
“They’ve had at least two marriages.” Poppy felt obligated to point that out. “More if you include Bachelor Pad.”
He continued. “You cry when you watch Hallmark movies.”
“Because they’re sweet.” How could she not cry when the guy and the girl got together at the end? She wasn’t a robot.
“She used to cry at Hallmark-card commercials, too,” Cami interjected.
“What are you two made of, stone?” Everybody cried at Hallmark commercials. Everybody.
“You sniffle over sunsets and going for long walks in the rain.” Wynn was on a roll now. “You find out your man’s favorite foods and cook dinner for him. You’ve even picked out your own engagement ring.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m romantic. I’m organized and I have a heart that beats.” They both smiled at her. “Fine,” Poppy told them. “It’s clear you’re not willing to listen because you’ve already made up your minds.”
* * *
LATER THAT EVENING, Poppy decided to wait until they were at the house before broaching the subject of the future with Beck. She needed to look him in the eye, search his expression. Or that’s what she told herself. She pressed a hand to her jumpy stomach as they drove back through the starry night.
His hand was warm over hers as they traversed the path she’d come to learn quite well. He’d placed his jacket over her shoulders earlier and she drew it close around her throat, inhaling his scent. It made her all hot and bothered and a little dizzy.
“Beck.” Her voice carried through the stillness as they climbed the front steps to the guesthouse. He turned, smiled at her. “About tomorrow.”
“Let’s worry about that later. Tonight, I just want you.” He tugged her across the threshold and closed the door behind them and suddenly his hands and mouth were everywhere, peeling off the single shoulder of her peach gown, tugging down the side zipper and leaving the chiffon material in a puddle around her feet.
She moaned when he scooped her up, now down to her silky panties, matching strapless bra and gold heels. Yes, tomorrow would be plenty soon enough. They wouldn’t be able to have any kind of conversation anyway, since she could barely remember her name. When he lowered her onto the bed and wrapped himself around her, she forgot even that. And it was a long time before she thought about anything at all.
* * *
BECK LAY ON the bed, Poppy’s head cradled in the crook of his arm. He didn’t care what Jamie said, he wasn’t hooked. He enjoyed her company. And what was wrong with that? They were adults, they knew what this was.
He looked down at her. She slept, her breath feathering against his chest. He tightened his hold. He didn’t think he was ready to let her go. But he didn’t think he could hold on either.
She wanted more. He’d known from the moment she’d said his name last night as they’d neared the house. He had no clue how to answer, so he didn’t. Instead, he kissed her until they were both distracted and breathing hard. And told himself he’d done the right thing.
He wanted to believe it, but he wasn’t so sure, lying here in the darkness.
Maybe they could take it slow. See each other casually. No promises. No rings. And definitely no wedding plans.
She snuggled against him more fully, twining her legs through his.
Or maybe he should let her go.
She wanted all those things—the wedding, the family, the house with the backyard where the kids and dog ran around. Beck’s lungs go
t tight at the thought and he struggled to breathe.
He lived in a penthouse apartment that overlooked the city. He worked late and liked it. He couldn’t stand the thought of putting some innocent kid—his innocent kid—through the same things he’d had to endure. Because there were no guarantees.
It was a general statement about life, but to Beck it seemed even more fitting for love. Relationships had end dates. And those ends were painful and affected more than just the two involved.
He sucked in another breath. He couldn’t do it. He wasn’t cut out for it and it wasn’t fair of everyone to expect him to change. They should appreciate he knew himself, knew his failings and didn’t try to drag anyone down with him.
Tomorrow, he would take Poppy back to her parents’ place, kiss her goodbye and never see her again. It was the right thing to do. The noble thing.
But it didn’t help him sleep that night.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“WHERE’S POPPY?” HIS mother looked behind him as though expecting to find her hiding there. As if Poppy’s hair could ever be hidden.
“She went home,” Beck said, and ignored the pull of disappointment in his chest at the memory of seeing her off. He’d done the right thing. A relationship between them had no chance of working out. It wouldn’t be fair to make her hope it might. She deserved better than that.
When his mother had come over this afternoon and insisted he come to the big house for dinner since it was their last night in Naramata, he’d agreed. But no one had told him it was supposed to be a couples performance.
“I hoped she’d join us. I like her.”
Beck did, too. But he didn’t voice that thought as he pulled the front door closed behind him. It was odd being here. He’d managed not to spend any time alone with both his parents this week, always begging off or making sure someone else would be in attendance.
That old familiar prickling crawled up his spine. He paused at the threshold to the kitchen. The table was set for four. There were lit candles and one of his mother’s floral arrangements. Wine was open and breathing. Romance was clearly in the air. “I should go. I don’t want to intrude on your dinner.”
Not Another Wedding Page 19