“Cami.” Poppy let the exasperation leak into her voice. “There is no ‘thing’ with Beck. We’re over.”
Cami sniffed. “Doesn’t sound like it to me.” She softened her voice. “Maybe he made a mistake, too. You can’t go jumping to conclusions.”
“How have I jumped to anything?” Poppy lowered her voice when Lily twisted and started to snuffle. She returned to the soothing sway, rocking away her own irritation at the same time. “I explained what I wanted and he made it clear he didn’t want the same thing.”
“Oh, really?” Cami got that superior, know-it-all, older-sister look on her face that Poppy hated. “So you actually sat down with him and told him exactly how you felt?”
Not quite. But since Poppy didn’t want to admit that, she said nothing. Though she needn’t have bothered....
“Exactly.” Cami nodded as though she’d just solved the problem of world peace and how to make high heels comfortable in one brilliant idea. “You didn’t tell him. And now here he is, asking you out at the wedding meeting. How do you explain that?”
“I can’t.” Poppy hadn’t been able to pigeonhole that into a tidy package. “He’s probably just bored. He’s going to be in town overseeing the hotel renovations and he wants someone he can booty call when it’s convenient.”
“Do you really believe that?” Cami studied her as if Poppy had lost her mind. The look reminded Poppy of the time she’d asked her sister if it was true that using a tampon meant you were no longer a virgin. She’d felt foolish then, too. “Beck is a good-looking guy. A rich, good-looking guy. I’m sure he could find someone to warm his bed if that was all he wanted.”
“Ew. Are you saying he could hire someone?”
“Ew.” Cami looked as grossed out as Poppy did. “I did not say or mean that. I was simply stating I don’t think he’d find it difficult to meet someone in the city. A nonpaid someone.” She shifted, drilling Poppy with a stare. “And yet, here he is cornering you at a restaurant and setting up a meeting for the two of you.”
“His mother was supposed to be there. Something came up last minute.”
Cami raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I know you’re not naive enough to believe that.”
No, she’d figured that out pretty quickly. No last-minute emergency had come up to keep Victoria away. She’d plotted to throw Poppy and Beck into the same room. And Beck was obviously part of the scheme. She just didn’t know why. “No, but we still aren’t a good match.”
Cami made a rude snorting sound. “Actually, you are.”
“Cami, he didn’t contact me for a month.” Lily shifted in Poppy’s arms. She began rocking again. “A week ago you were ready to string him up.”
“That was before he tried to make amends. I’m all about forgiveness.” She stroked a hand across Holly’s forehead. Holly turned toward her mother and curled in closer.
The deep ache went all the way to Poppy’s bones. She wanted this. Badly. So badly that she had to sit down in a chair before her knees gave out on her. But with Beck? She tried to picture him in the cozy little vignette. Hank had been so careful this afternoon, bundling all his women into the house, making sure Cami had everything she needed and politely slipping upstairs when Cami told him they needed some girl time.
But Beck? Big, oversize, demanding Beck? No.
“It’s not about forgiveness,” Poppy explained. “It’s finding someone who I’m compatible with.”
“You and Beck are compatible. You get along great.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t matter if we don’t have the same life goals.” She lifted Lily up to her shoulder, stroking the baby’s tiny back. “I’d be wasting my time. I’m almost thirty. I don’t have that much time to waste.”
“You aren’t even twenty-nine yet,” Cami pointed out. “You’re hardly in a position to be panicking.”
Maybe not, but in five years? Seven years? What then?
“He’s stomped on my heart twice, Cami. I don’t think I’d survive a third time.”
“Aren’t his parents about to have their third wedding?”
“Yes, and that’s fine for them.” But not for her. Twice was two times too many already.
The third time would not be a charm.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
POPPY STARED AT the new messages waiting for her on the dating site. From such class acts as SexNinja, ChainsnWhips, and LadyKillah. It made the unoriginal 1983Dude seem positively romantic in comparison.
Still, she dutifully read through the messages. Perhaps she could find her diamond in the rough. After all, a person’s profile name wasn’t necessarily an indication of them as a human being. She’d finally settled on TheCourseWhisperer for herself, which was hardly going to set the world on fire with its originality.
From: SexNinja
Hey sexy,
Do you like sexy times?
Barf. Delete.
From: ChainsnWhips
I’d like to tie you up sometime. Or let you do the same to me. Your choice.
Ugh. Delete faster.
From: LadyKillah
Hello,
I’m looking for a sweet, sensual lady and you seem nice. I liked your profile...LOL...I won’t tell you your beautiful...I’m sure you here that all the time...I live with my parents...had to move in about six months ago but Im looking for my own place...LOL.
Poppy didn’t know what all the pausing and LOLing was about. She did know she didn’t want to find out. Delete.
From: 1983Dude
Hello,
Your profile intrigued me. I also enjoy golfing and wine-tasting. I’d be interested in getting to know more about you. Perhaps one day we can go for a round together?
She reread the message from 1983Dude. He seemed normal enough. Since she didn’t have a better offer and no one said this had to be The One, she replied and agreed to meet him for a drink.
Her hopes were high, or at least buoyant, when she walked into the lounge she’d selected for their drink date. As the day wore on, her dating in-box had filled with messages. Many of them similar to the first three who didn’t make the cut, but she found a few possibilities in there, too. Who was to say that Liam29Vancouver, ProfessorVance, or FriendlyWarren might not be her ideal mate?
Or 1983Dude. She thought meeting her future husband on the first go was unlikely but not impossible. And that would be a pretty sweet story to tell. Might even rank up there with her mother and sister and their high school sweethearts.
Although the day had been gorgeous, the sun had already started its descent and the temperature had cooled noticeably. Summer was over. A little tug yanked at her heart. She was always sad to see the end of the season even though she loved autumn—sweaters, crisp breezes and the crackle of leaves changing colors.
She’d chosen a pair of skinny jeans, a floaty cream-colored top with an adorable black sash and a pair of gorgeous black heels. Stylish yet casual. Sexy but not too sexy. Her hair swung around her shoulders in a mass of waves, which was why she’d chosen not to wear earrings, but a chunky bracelet and cocktail ring instead.
The lounge was moderately busy. About half the tables were filled and all the seats along the bar were taken. She found a small table near the front of the lounge, but to the side. Close enough to the door that he’d be able to find her without looking too hard, but not right in the middle of the action where they’d be on display for anyone to watch. She checked the time on her phone and hoped he wouldn’t be late.
Poppy didn’t realize until she was getting dressed that she only knew her date as 1983Dude. He hadn’t posted a picture, but she’d been so irritated with Beck she’d made the date anyway. She hoped he wasn’t a troll. Or toothless.
She’d considered not showing up tonight, but the thought didn’t last long, even when she questio
ned the safety of such a meeting. In the end, she’d decided texting Wynn the guy’s profile name and telling him where she was going to be would be sufficient. She wasn’t meeting 1983Dude in a quiet location and didn’t have any plans to share personal information with him. And if he was a creeper, she’d swill her drink at warp speed, pay for herself and bolt out of there. Nothing to be panicked about.
But her stomach was in knots anyway.
She’d just ordered a glass of wine—the need to have something to do with her hands had outweighed her concerns about rudeness—when Beck walked through the door.
Oh, no. Come on. Was the universe out to spite her?
It seemed so as Beck homed in on her and immediately headed over.
“No.” Poppy held up her hand in the universal stop sign when he was still ten feet from her. “No. Go away.” She didn’t want him hovering, messing up her vibe when 1983Dude came in. He might think they were together. “I’m meeting someone.”
“I know.” He dropped into the empty seat across from her with a smug smile.
Poppy glanced at the door. No sign of the handsome Mr. Right yet. “Beck, please. Just go. You can’t be here.”
“I’m 1983Dude.”
“What?” She stared at him, noticed he wore a yellow striped shirt just like 1983Dude had said he’d be wearing. The nerves in her stomach congealed into a hard ball.
“I want to talk.”
“No, Beck.” The waitress arrived with her wine, interrupting what she’d been about to say. Poppy clutched the glass as if it was a life preserver. No. This was not happening. She closed her eyes and wished she was somewhere, anywhere else. But when she opened them, the situation hadn’t changed.
She pushed the wine away and gathered her purse. “If you won’t leave, I will.” She was not going to sit here and make nice while he intruded all over her life.
“Poppy, wait.” His hand snaked out to wrap around her wrist. “We’re out. It’s a nice night. Stay. Have a drink with me.”
She didn’t want to. She couldn’t.
“Five minutes and then I’ll never bother you again.”
It might have been the only thing he could have said to stop her. She sank back into her seat. “Fine, but only five. I have things to do tonight.”
She didn’t. She’d cleared her schedule hoping the date would go well. He ordered a beer, flirted with the waitress when she brought it over. Poppy rolled her eyes.
“So this is nice.” He leaned back in the large leather club chair, looking right at home. “I’m glad to see you. I missed you at the meeting last week.”
“Oh, yeah. I can tell you missed me terribly.” Her eyes flicked to the waitress, an adorable blonde who was probably an actress waiting for her big break.
“I did.”
Poppy wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she didn’t. She swirled her wine instead. Her stomach was too upset to take a sip.
“How’s Cami?”
She eyed him, debating between asking why he cared and answering politely. Manners won out in the hopes they might speed this up. “She’s great. She appreciated the gifts for the kids.”
He’d sent a soft receiving blanket with a small lily embroidered in the corner for baby Lily and a pair of shiny red shoes with little holly berries as buckles for Holly. Cami had gotten all starry-eyed when she’d seen them.
Poppy hated to admit it, but she’d been a little starry-eyed herself. She swirled the wine again and reminded herself his assistant was probably the one with the great taste. She didn’t need to be attributing qualities to Beck that he didn’t have. It was bad enough her body still responded to him.
“I’m glad she liked them,” Beck said.
Poppy put the wine down. “You didn’t come here to talk about my sister. What do you want?”
“I want to see you.”
“I’m right here.” She twisted the heavy bracelet around and around her wrist.
“Poppy.”
“Beck.”
“I want to see you.”
“I heard you the first time.” Which was a miracle, considering the thunderous heartbeat in her ears.
“So it’s going to be like this, is it?” He picked up her wineglass and took a long, slow sip.
“No, Beck. It’s not going to be like anything.” She snatched the glass back and curved her arm around it. He should have ordered wine instead of beer if he’d wanted some.
“I was a complete idiot. I should have called you.”
“I’m aware of that.” She shrugged as though this was no big deal. Nope, she was totally fine. Cool as can be. That wasn’t her knee bounding up and down like a mad game of horsey under the table. Absolutely not.
“Poppy.” He leaned forward. She recognized the intensity in his eyes, forced herself not to get sucked into the swirl of his emotions. She had enough dealing with her own. “I know I messed up. I’ve messed up a lot.”
She shouldn’t sit here and listen to him, shouldn’t let herself believe what he said might be true. “I have to go, Beck.”
But all those old fantasies floated back to the surface anyway. The one where he crashed her high school prom and whisked her into his arms for the last dance of the night before squiring her away under a blanket of stars to tell her how much he’d missed her. Or the one where he called and cried that he couldn’t live without her. Or the one where they stood on the dock with the rain pouring down where she demanded to know why he never wrote and he said he wrote her every day for a year. And then they kissed and he carried her, now soaked to the skin, into the house and made love to her.
That last one was a particularly good fantasy.
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
So was this one.
Her heart began to pound. She swallowed. “Beck.”
“Will you give me another chance? I want to try.”
Oh, she wanted to let him try, wanted to open her arms wide and let him in and believe everything would be okay. But she’d already done that. Twice. “I don’t know, Beck.” This wasn’t safe or smart. Two things she needed to keep in mind.
“I’m going to be living here until the hotel is finished. I’m asking for the chance.”
Her hands were gripping her clutch so tightly she was surprised she hadn’t accidentally ripped off the blue beading. “It can’t be like it was.”
“I know.” He reached out. She jerked back before he touched her. “Wynn told me you want to date, so—” he took a deep breath “—I’m open to that.”
Her head spun. Wynn knew about this? Wynn was working with Beck? And what did that have to do with her dating? “What?” she finally managed to ask, though it was more like a whisper than a demand for information.
“If you want to date other people, I’m okay with that. Just give me a chance, too.”
She shook her head as all those pretty fantasies crumbled under reality. He didn’t want her. Not really. He wanted the convenience that being with her offered. And no worries about getting attached again. Oh, no, he’d solved that rather neatly by allowing her to date other people at the same time. As if she needed his permission.
“No, Beck. I want more than that. I deserve more than that. Is that what you want?”
He blustered a bit. Not a good sign. “I’m saying I want to try. I can’t promise it’ll work out. But who can?”
The sliver of remaining hope that hadn’t already dried up and blown away disappeared. He hadn’t changed, he’d just dressed up the same old, same old in a new package. “That’s how we’re different, Beck. I won’t go forward locked into the idea that we’re already doomed to fail.”
“I didn’t say we were doomed.”
She smiled at him sadly. “You did. You just don’t realize it.” She stood, grateful her knees s
upported her. “I have to go. Good luck.”
“Poppy.”
“Goodbye.”
“Wait.” He rose, too. “I want this. I want you.”
But she didn’t believe him. “You’ll get over it,” she told him and left the table.
“I won’t.” His voice followed her across the room. Her heart squeezed so tightly she was afraid it might burst. She had to grab onto the door handle when her knees threatened to buckle. Wouldn’t that be a fabulous way to end the night? She’d lay herself prone at his feet for him to walk all over her.
Again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
POPPY GAVE HERSELF one week to grieve the loss of what might have been. Then she decided the only way to move forward was to get out there and date again. Not that Wynn had the right idea—she was not getting under anyone. Not until she’d gotten to know him.
But there would be no more nights of sitting in front of the television or staying late at the office either. If she wanted to put Beck behind her, she had to take the first step. But he and Wynn weren’t allowing her to move on.
They were sabotaging her dates.
Between the pair of them, no man went unresearched, no restaurant went unstaked out and no date went uninterrupted. It was a miracle she managed to schedule anything at all.
She’d thought they’d grow tired of their game. But they hadn’t. For the past two months, they’d kept up a running attack on her dating life. Poppy wouldn’t be surprised if she was on one of those “Avoid this person” websites with stories about the two men who crashed all her dates.
Like tonight when Beck had inserted himself into the evening and chased off her date before the server had even swung by to ask if they’d like another drink. The poor guy had looked as if he was about to have a coronary when Beck strode over, all six foot two and bulging muscles, and asked if he was going to leave on his own recognizance or if he wanted to be thrown out.
Not Another Wedding Page 24