He was not a wimp. Okay, he was sort of a wimp, but every decision had been for her. Jamie should know that. Beck had explained he was unable to give Poppy what she wanted, what she deserved, enough times that it should have made an impact in his cousin’s brain by now.
The waiter came by to deliver their meals. Beck was grateful for the interruption. By the time the man left, he felt more in control. Jamie was wrong. He wasn’t miserable. Yes, maybe he thought about Poppy a little too often, but he’d get over that. And she’d move on and meet someone to have her babies with.
He glanced over and saw the seat across from her was no longer empty. All those good thoughts and intentions dried up in a powerful punch of fury. No.
Who was this dude and what did he think he was doing with Poppy? He was old enough to be her grandfather with his silver hair and avuncular smile. Probably dentures. And why the hell was she smiling back?
He clenched his fork and stabbed the steak. Both Jamie and Emmy paused and then Jamie started to grin. A huge, I-know-better-than-you-and-don’t-you-forget-it grin. Beck scowled and turned his attention to the restaurant instead. The walls were dark wood with exposed brick. Chandeliers hung throughout the room and the chairs were covered in dark red velvet.
And Poppy was laughing. What did she have to laugh about? Was Gramps telling her he’d gone to the doctor for the little blue pill?
The thought made Beck’s stomach churn. He sawed at his meat and shoved a piece into his mouth, grinding. He didn’t even taste the blue cheese topping.
Jamie finally cleared his throat. “Anything you’d like to talk about?”
“No.” He stuffed another bite in his mouth, his gaze still on Poppy. His Poppy. In her sexy dress, acting all flirty and friendly. The older man leaned across the table to say something and she laughed, exposing the long line of her neck.
The fork began to bend in Beck’s grip. She wasn’t supposed to smile at other men like that. She wasn’t supposed to be out dating other men. He wasn’t out dating other people. And he’d had opportunity. Plenty. He took a swig from his wine.
“Beck?” He turned to Emmy, who gnawed at her lip. “Maybe you should go talk to her.”
And say what? That he’d made a terrible mistake? It was too late for that, wasn’t it?
“No, I guess he wants to try to kill her with that stare,” Jamie said.
“I’m not trying to kill anyone,” Beck said, though he wouldn’t be too distraught if his evil eye sent the old guy scrambling. He should be ashamed of himself, dating a woman a third of his age.
“No,” Jamie said agreeably, digging into his baked potato. “And he doesn’t want to see her either. Can’t you tell by the way he’s not paying any attention?”
“I didn’t want to see her.” Beck used his best business tone. The one that even shut down lawyers in their tracks. But Jamie had known him too long. He didn’t appear intimidated in the slightest.
“Didn’t?” he repeated.
“Don’t,” Beck corrected. He even shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the furious thoughts of striding over there and dragging Poppy out of the restaurant. He sent the newlyweds a tight smile. “I don’t.”
Another look exchanged between Jamie and Emmy. This secret, unsaid conversation going on in front of him was starting to get on Beck’s nerves.
“What?” he asked. “What are you two thinking and not saying?”
“You seem a little upset for a guy who’s getting what he wants,” Jamie said. He had the audacity to continue smirking even when Beck glared at him. “Maybe you’re not so sure.”
“I’m sure.” Beck sawed off another piece of his poor, beleaguered steak.
“Well, I’m going to say hello.” Jamie pushed back his chair.
“No.” Beck fired out the word like a first volley of gunfire. He placed his knife and fork carefully on the edge of the plate. He was no longer hungry. “Don’t get involved, Jamie.”
“You got me involved when you started up with her at our wedding.” Jamie’s golden eyebrows raised in a challenge. “Or am I wrong? Maybe you were never interested in her at all?”
“You’re not wrong.” Beck bit the words out as he’d just seen the waiter bring over a bottle of wine to Poppy’s table.
The silver-haired man swirled a sample in his glass and leaned in to sniff the bouquet. Supercilious geezer. What did Poppy see in him?
Beck dragged his attention back to the questioning face of his cousin. “But at least wait until dinner is over.” Until he stopped feeling as if he’d been punched in the heart. And throat. And groin. He glared over at Poppy again.
The rest of dinner was strained, with Jamie goading Beck into talking and Beck doing his best to ignore him. It didn’t help that Poppy and Gramps seemed to be having a most excellent time.
“Ready?” Jamie asked once the dishes were cleared and the bill signed. This time he didn’t merely push back his chair but stood up.
Beck swilled the last sip from his wineglass. No, he wasn’t ready. He had no clue what he was supposed to say or do. Didn’t even know if there was any point.
He must have accidentally said that last part out loud because Emmy turned to him with a concerned frown. “Why not?”
“It wouldn’t work.” Beck shrugged and tried to act as if he hadn’t been grinding his back molars down into tiny stumps.
“Why not?” she asked again, her blue eyes soft with worry. For him. Another rush of emotion assailed him, less irritated than the last. Oh, he was still irked, but this was his family, standing by him, pushing him because they thought they were helping.
“He’s afraid,” Jamie answered for him.
Beck narrowed his eyes. Okay, maybe family wasn’t so great after all. “I’m not afraid. I’m doing what’s best for her.” Wasn’t that what he’d decided all those weeks ago when he’d first returned to Seattle?
“And who are you to decide that?” Jamie’s eyebrows were up again. Emmy reached over to give his hand a conciliatory pat, but the eyebrows didn’t drop an inch.
“I’m doing her a favor, okay? Let it go.”
Jamie should understand that doing the right thing killed Beck. Every time he looked at Poppy, he wanted to haul her out of that chair and up against his chest where she belonged.
His gaze was drawn to her again. The curve of her neck, the way her throat moved when she sipped her wine. Beck didn’t find it so easy to be noble when she was sitting right in front of him.
“Emmy and I are going over to say hello.” Jamie reached down to assist his wife to her feet while pinning Beck with a challenging stare. “You’re welcome to stay here or you can put on your big-boy pants and come with us.”
Beck would have liked to wrap his big-boy pants around Jamie’s neck. What was Jamie playing at? He needed to leave things alone. Beck managed to muck up his own life without help.
But Jamie either didn’t hear or chose to ignore his silent pleas. With an annoyed grunt, Beck shoved his own chair away from the table and followed his cousin across the restaurant.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE EDGES OF Poppy’s smile froze when she spotted Beck walking toward her. What was he doing here? Why was he coming over to talk to her? Why did he look so good?
Belatedly, she noticed Jamie and Emmy were with him, but her eyes returned to studying the man with them.
His hair was longer and moved when he walked. But his eyes were the same. Those dark, deep eyes that stared right into her and saw everything she wanted to hide.
Poppy balled her hands into fists beneath the table and hoped he wouldn’t see the pain she was still toting around. She hadn’t heard from him in a month, an entire month. Her eyes narrowed. She’d actually given him the benefit of the doubt and called him.
Twice.
; She’d even texted and emailed, just in case his voice mail wasn’t working or he’d lost the phone entirely. But nothing. Her nails bit into her palms. And now he thought he was going to sidle over here to say hello as if nothing was wrong? That nothing had happened between them, or worse, that it hadn’t mattered?
She swallowed the firestorm of words dying to be unleashed and pasted on a smile for Jamie and Emmy. She was happy to see them. They looked great, rested and happy. The tans from their Hawaiian vacation were still in effect, though there was yet to be any sign of Emmy’s pregnancy.
Poppy sighed. Emmy was going to be one of those lucky women who only showed in the stomach. No bloating, water retention or blotchy skin. Poppy rose and hugged her anyway. Emmy shouldn’t be blamed for good genetics.
She didn’t permit herself to check out Beck. Didn’t hug him either. In her opinion, he didn’t even qualify for a handshake.
“Jamie, Emmy. I’d like to introduce you to Ned Stuart.” Ned owned a string of car dealerships that sold high-end luxury vehicles to the city’s wealthiest residents and held five appreciation events every year to thank them for their business. This year, he’d hired Poppy to plan them.
It was quite a coup. Not only because they provided guaranteed income to boost her bottom line, but the attendees were other business owners and CEOs. If she impressed them, Poppy knew there was a good chance she’d generate more business. And right now? Since her personal life was in the gutter? She was all about the business.
She introduced Beck to Ned as well, but only because her mother had raised her right.
“Good to meet you.” Ned rose, exchanging handshakes all around while Poppy tried not to look at Beck.
His eyes were on her, studying. She exhaled softly. What did he want? Why was he staring at her? What were the chances they’d show up at the same place at the same time?
“I hope we’re not barging in,” Jamie said. “We wanted to come over and say hello.”
“No problem at all.” Ned indicated the empty chairs at the four-seat table. “Why don’t you join us for dessert. I’m sure we can find another chair.”
Panic ricocheted through her brain. Thankfully, Emmy saved her. “That’s so kind of you, but we can’t.” Emmy to the rescue. Poppy knew there was a reason she liked Jamie’s wife.
While Jamie and Ned fell into discussing the wine business, with Emmy nodding along to the conversation, Beck slid over to stand beside her. Poppy tried to sit down, but he caught her by the elbow and held her in place. She scowled at him, daring him to say something.
He took up her gauntlet. “How are you?”
Like he cared? She shot him a disgusted look. “I’m fine.” She wrenched her elbow free and proceeded to ignore his smoking glances, reminding herself she didn’t crave his touch late at night in the privacy of her own bedroom. Nope, not even a little.
She was relieved when they finally left, Ned handing out business cards and telling them to swing by for a test ride and he’d get them a good deal. There, that hadn’t been so bad. She’d managed to get through without making an idiot of herself. But she felt edgy and out of sorts, and when Ned brought up the events, she found her concentration shaky.
“Ned, would you excuse me for a moment?” She threaded her way through the busy restaurant to the washroom. She’d splash a little cool water on her face, touch up her lipstick and regain some control. She would not let this rattle her. She’d known Beck would be in Vancouver for his hotel and known there was a slight possibility they would run into one another. She had hoped it wouldn’t happen, but such was life.
A wet paper towel to the back of her neck and a fresh coat of pale pink on her lips calmed her a little. She would go out there, she would wow Ned Stuart and then she would go home and work.
Feeling more grounded, she stepped out of the washroom and into a broad chest.
“Poppy.” She didn’t need to hear his voice to know it was Beck. She recognized the scent of him, leather and soap, and those hard muscles beneath her cheek. She jerked back, banging into the wall.
“What do you want?”
He looked lost, like a little boy, and her heart softened before she reminded herself he had done her wrong and deserved none of her compassion. She was the injured party here.
“Well?” she demanded when he didn’t respond. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. Her fingers ached to slide through the strands. “I keep asking myself the same thing.”
“Then quit wasting my time.” She moved to slip around him, but he stepped sideways and blocked her path.
“I think we should talk.”
Poppy’s throat dried up and she forced a swallow, which did little to help. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“I disagree.” She tried to move around him again, but ran up against a solid wall of man. “Poppy, come on.”
“Come on, what?” She wanted to back away, to retreat to the safety of the shadows and the hall behind her, but that would show him he’d gotten to her, that his nearness still affected her so much she was afraid to look down for fear she’d see her knees shaking. “What is there to talk about?”
He frowned. “You’re mad at me. I understand.”
He understood? Oh, she was going to kick his understanding right in the behind. “Beck, I don’t want to talk. There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I think there is.”
“Why? Why now?” Why not a month ago? Or a week ago? What made today, this very second, so special?
“I just need to.” There was a stubborn jut to his jaw. She didn’t care.
She wasn’t going to allow him to play with her emotions and toss them aside when he got bored. Not again. “No.” She shook her head. “I’m not doing this. I need to get back to my table.”
“Yes.” He was an immovable object, blocking her flight to freedom. “I only want to talk.”
“I have to go, Beck.”
“Back to your sugar daddy?” The snide tone in his voice made her head snap up.
“Excuse me?” Anger flared through her. Who did he think he was? “I don’t have a sugar daddy and the very mention of that insults me.”
“No? Then who is he?”
His jealousy didn’t flatter or intrigue her. More like infuriated her. After everything, he had the nerve to act as if she’d done something wrong? Maybe his understanding needed more than a kick in the behind. She laughed, sharp and hot. She wouldn’t have been surprised to learn steam was coming out of her nostrils. “Are you kidding? Where do you get off?”
His face was tight. “Is it a date?”
“That’s none of your business, Beck.”
“I think it is.” He captured her arm when she tried to push past him. “He’s too old for you.”
“You don’t have a say in my life.” She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and brushed the front of her dress to rid it of the outline of his body pressed against her. “You don’t have a say in anything I do.”
The jut protruded farther now. He was going to dislocate his jawbone if he kept it up. “Maybe I want one.”
“Too late.” He just didn’t like the idea that she might be moving on. “I don’t even know why you’re bothering. This is a waste of time.”
“Poppy.”
She ignored the plaintive note in his voice. It didn’t mean anything. If he really cared, he would have talked to her before now. He wouldn’t have waited until he saw her out with another man before suddenly discovering how he really felt. She exhaled slowly. She needed to gather her control, to remember this was not a fairy tale with a promised happily ever after.
“Poppy.”
She almost broke when he said her name again. It took every ounce of emotional fortitude to bear herself up under
his gaze, to lift her chin and roll her shoulders back. But she did. She would not go back to the table with her emotions in overdrive. She took a step back and looked up at him.
“Beck.” She would maintain her cool if it killed her. “You don’t want me. I get it.”
His frown deepened. “I never said that.”
She took a cooling breath, trying not to let his heat overwhelm her. “You didn’t have to. But it’s been a month since the wedding. Plenty of time for us to have this talk.” She air quoted the last word, flinched when her arms brushed against him.
“Poppy.”
“We don’t want the same things, Beck. I’m fine with that.” She so wasn’t, but would rather die than admit it.
“How do you know what I want?”
She managed to keep her temper in check. “I don’t because you never told me, but I can infer.” And she’d done a lot of inferring in the month since the wedding. He didn’t want the same things she did. A future together. Marriage. Kids. A dog. She forced herself to meet his gaze, to look deep into those dark eyes and see the facts.
“Maybe you should ask me before you go jumping to conclusions.”
“I didn’t jump to anything, Beck.” Her anger started to subside, to drain away in the face of the confrontation. She didn’t want to fight with him. She wanted to forget him. “You didn’t call, you didn’t write. You were very clear. What should I have thought?”
“You should have asked.”
Her eyes were starting to get that achy, prickling reaction. “I shouldn’t have had to.”
“Poppy.” Her name was a warning in his mouth.
She swallowed the tears away. “I hope one day you’ll find what you’re looking for.” She almost reached up to smooth a hand along his cheek, but she didn’t trust herself quite yet. She was only human, after all. “I need to get back to my dinner, Beck.”
“Poppy. I made a mistake. Can’t you just—”
She interrupted him. Her control hung by a thread. A thin, stretched-to-the-limits-and-about-to-snap thread. “There’s nothing left to say, Beck. Good luck.”
Not Another Wedding Page 21