by Devney Perry
“It’s okay.” Poppy’s gaze softened “I’ll let you guys talk.” Then she backed away, disappearing into the kitchen and sending Helen out to watch the counter.
When she was gone, I stood, gesturing to the door. “Let’s go talk outside.” By some miracle, Aly followed me without a word, though she huffed behind me as we walked. By the time we reached the sidewalk outside, her anger had morphed to hurt.
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded as the tears started to fall.
“Don’t cry.” My plea did nothing, but then again, Aly had always been a crier. Whenever Mom or my sister or Poppy cried, it damn near broke my heart. Aly’s tears, on the other hand, had stopped bothering me a year ago—partly because she used them for manipulation, partly because she never tried to fight them back.
One of the reasons I admired the hell out of Poppy was because she worked so hard not to cry. And when she did? Shit was bad.
But still, I didn’t want Aly to cry. I didn’t want to cause her pain.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
She nodded, reaching up to swipe a tear away. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
“We just—we wouldn’t have made it. I think deep down, you know that’s true.”
“Do I?” She looked into the restaurant and sniffled. “And what about her? Do you think you two will make it? Or are you going to do to her what you did to me? Make her fall in love with you and not even try to fall back.”
“Aly,” I whispered. “I did try.” I’d tried for two damn years to say I love you, but it just hadn’t been there.
Her chin quivered as she swiped at another tear. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect to see you tonight. And with her. It was a shock.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She looked up to me with wet, pleading eyes as she leaned closer. “I really miss you.” Her hand lifted between us, but before she could touch my chest, I took a step back.
“I can’t touch you now?” Anger flashed in her teary eyes.
“No.” The only woman whose hand belonged over my heart was inside.
With a murderous scowl, Aly spun on her heel and rushed to her car, then raced out of the parking lot.
“Fuck,” I muttered, rubbing my jaw.
In time, I hoped Aly would find the guy for her. That she’d find the guy who’d give her his heart. It just wasn’t me.
Through the restaurant’s windows, I saw that Poppy had come back out to the counter. She was trying not to spy, but her eyes kept straying out front, searching for Aly. I hustled back inside and went right to the counter.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Ex-girlfriend, I’m guessing?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Aly and I dated for a couple of years but broke up earlier this summer.”
“Was it serious?”
“For her,” I admitted. “We lived together for a while, but . . . it wasn’t right. I finally ended it, but not before she got hurt.” Not before she’d told me she’d loved me countless times and I hadn’t said it back.
I tapped the newspaper we’d been looking at when Aly had come in. “Do you want to call either of these?”
“I’m not crazy about them. I think I’ll just sit tight for a while.”
“Okay. Let me know what I can do to help.”
“Actually, there is something.” She was unsuccessfully fighting a smile. “I went to three grocery stores earlier and bought each of them out of green Jell-O. Every single pan and pot and bowl I could find is currently in my walk-in filled with Jell-O.”
I wasn’t taking the bait. “Good for you.”
Poppy had been trying to talk me into doing the Jell-O pool thing with her for the last couple of weeks, but I fucking hated Jell-O. The texture made me gag. The taste was awful. The idea of rolling around in a pool full of it? Not a chance in hell unless she was drowning in it and I had to drag her out.
I’d promised to help her with Jamie’s list, but this was one of the two things where I’d drawn a line. I wasn’t going to let her pull a damn fire alarm, and I wasn’t getting in a pool of green Jell-O.
“Please?” Poppy gave me her best puppy-dog eyes.
Damn it. It was just Jell-O. I could probably make the sacrifice. If it made her happy, I could probably do it. If I kept my eyes closed and just got in real fast.
I was about to cave when she muttered, “Fine. I’ll do it myself. Tonight, I guess. The Jell-O is made and I might as well get it over with.”
“Did you get the pool?”
“No, not yet. I was going to duck out early and let Helen close so I could buy one.”
“I’ll get your pool.” I stood up and pulled my keys from my jeans pocket. “You finish up here and I’ll come back to collect you and your,” I grimaced, “Jell-O. Would you care if we did this at my place? It’s closer.”
“That would be great. Thank you.” Her face flooded with relief—a whole wave of it. Much more than saving ten minutes on a drive should warrant.
Was this why she wanted to move? Because she didn’t want me in her house?
I kept the questions to myself as I waved good-bye, left the restaurant and went to a place I hated nearly as much as I hated Jell-O.
Walmart.
A couple hours later, I’d bought her a kiddie pool and taken two trips from the restaurant to haul over a shitload of green Jell-O. Then—gagging the entire time—I’d filled her pool with that damn neon gelatin and used a shovel to break it into small chunks.
By the time she’d finished up at the restaurant and come over, the sun was starting to set. We skipped the house tour and I shuffled her straight to the backyard.
She’d changed at the restaurant. I was sure she was going for practical with her tight running shorts and plain white tank top over a strappy sports bra. But she’d sailed way past practical and landed on sexy as fuck.
“You set it all up, even though you hate Jell-O?” She smiled up at me and I fought with every cell in my body not to kiss her. “Thank you.”
I cleared the rasp from my throat and pointed to the pool. “You’d better get in there before it gets too dark.”
She took a deep breath, then put a foot in the Jell-O. “Oh my god, this is cold.”
“No turning back now.” I had my phone ready. “Smile for your picture.”
She scowled over her shoulder—a look I caught perfectly with the camera—then put her other foot in the pool. She hissed as she dropped to her knees, and then in one graceful twist, she sat down.
Her legs flattened just enough so the green could coat her thighs. “This feels weird.” She picked at the Jell-O with her fingers before planting her palms on the base of the pool and pushing herself up. Then she swiped the green bits off her legs.
“That’s it?”
She shrugged. “It’s freezing. I’m calling this one done, unless you’re going to get in here with me.”
I shook my head and took a step back. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”
“Are you sure?” A slow grin spread over Poppy’s face. She took one step, then another, moving to the edge of the pool closest to me.
“Poppy,” I warned.
She shot out a hand and made a grab for my wrist.
I jumped backward, barely dodging the green bits that flew off her hands. She’d used too much momentum trying to grab me though, because as her hand kept traveling, her feet began to slide. Like a drunken man on ice, her torso twisted, her arms pinwheeled, and her legs wobbled as she tried to keep her balance.
I was sure she was going down, but then somehow, she managed to find a grip.
“Oh my god,” she panted, looking up to me as she steadied her legs. “That was close. I almost came out of here looking like Kermit the Frog.”
I laughed. “Or the Hulk. Can you imagine going into the restaurant tomorrow looking like a pissed-off Bruce Banner?” Randall would have a field day if Poppy came in with a green face.
I was still laughing as Poppy planted
her hands on her hips. “The Hulk? I remind you of The Hulk?”
My laughter died. “What? No! Of course not.” Oh, shit. “You’d be like a small green person. Like, uh . . .” Think, Cole. What the fuck else is green? The Jolly Green Giant. Godzilla. The Grinch. “Yoda.” I snapped my fingers. “You’d be like Yoda. Except not old. Or bald. Or wrink—”
“Cole.” I stopped talking as Poppy grinned. “Mouth shut, you should keep.”
I nodded. “Good idea.”
“Okay. I’m getting out of here.”
I stepped forward and held out my free hand to help her out, but before she could get a grip on my palm, she shifted her weight. One second she was standing, the next she was flying through the air.
Splat.
Green Jell-O flew everywhere as Poppy screamed. She gargled as a chunk landed in her mouth—I gagged—then spit it out, struggling to sit up. Goo dripped from her fingertips and the knot of her hair. Her tank top would never be white again.
And I couldn’t resist. My phone was still in my hand and I lifted it up for a photo burst.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
I grinned. “Just in case you want proof.” I tossed my phone aside and bent down, helping her back up on her feet. “Here.”
This time when she stood, Jell-O covered her from head to toe.
Don’t laugh. Don’t be an asshole. It was no use. A snort escaped, followed by a fit of laughter as Poppy glared and gripped my hand with all her might.
“Sorry.” I stopped howling—though my chest was still heaving—as I helped her from the pool.
With a green finger shoved in my face, Poppy spoke through her clamped teeth. “Mention one thing about Yoda or Muppets or leprechauns and you’re dead.”
“Yes, ma’am. Not a word.”
She dropped her glare and my hand so she could rub the spot on her ass where she’d taken maximum impact. “That hurt. Jell-O is not a good cushion.”
“Sorry.” I swiped the towel I’d brought down off a deck chair. “Want to take a shower?”
She nodded as she wiped her face, then darted past me toward the door.
“The shower is upstairs. Last room on the right!” I called to her back.
She waved and kept on running inside.
I smiled, shaking my head as I examined my yard.
It was a mess. That pool was going to be a bitch to clean up, and I hoped the Jell-O chunks would dissolve into the grass, but still, I was glad Poppy had come here to do this.
Deciding I’d clean up the pool tomorrow, I grabbed my phone and went inside, plopping down on the couch to look through the pictures I’d taken.
Before the water turned on upstairs, I found my favorite photo.
My beautiful, green leprechaun, Poppy.
I loved her. Staring at her picture on my phone, it hit me square in the chest.
I was in love with Poppy Maysen.
The irony hit me next.
Aly had told me she loved me countless times and I’d never said it back. Not once. And now, I was finally ready to say those three words to a woman who couldn’t say them back.
32nd Birthday: Have a paint fight
Poppy
Cole’s shower was fancy. And huge.
Floor-to-ceiling tiles extended from a bench seat at one end to the doorway at the opposite side. There wasn’t an actual door because the space was so big—the water coming from the three bronze showerheads didn’t come close to escaping. But as gorgeous as the ivory marble tile was, the best part of Cole’s shower was the smell.
Just as I’d suspected, on a cutout shelf was a bottle of Irish Spring body wash. The smell had seeped into the tile, so as the shower filled with steam, I was engulfed in Cole’s clean, manly scent.
I laughed as I stared at the bottle. Its dark green coordinated perfectly with my light-green skin.
I’d done my best—scrubbing with fury—to get the color off my arms and hands, but I would need a thorough exfoliation with some sugar scrub and my loofah to get back to my normal shade.
Doing the Jell-O pool at Cole’s had its drawbacks. I didn’t have any of my normal beauty products or a hair dryer. I’d be putting back on the clothes I’d worn earlier at the restaurant even though I longed for something fresh and clean. But still, I was glad we’d done it here. Not only was I avoiding bringing him to my house, it was nice to have company instead of doing it alone.
I’d always known the Jell-O item was going to be hard—since Jamie had added it on the day he’d died. But with Cole teasing me about being green, plus his weird aversion to Jell-O, it had been bearable.
His steady hand helping me out of the pool had eased some of the sting away.
I was really coming to rely on his hands. Probably too much.
But without them, I don’t know how I would have ever come this far. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t keep asking for Cole’s help, but just tonight, I’d let him do all that work to set up my Jell-O pool. Every time he offered his assistance, I agreed. I had to stop taking advantage before he came to resent me—I just didn’t know how.
Because of Cole, I was getting closer to the end of Jamie’s birthday list without being in a constant state of tears. Instead, he was helping me find the joy in each item. The fun that Jamie had been after in the first place.
I smiled down at my green cuticles as the water ran over my body to my green-tinged toes. You would have loved this, Jamie. Where I wanted to scrub away the green, Jamie would have let it stay. He’d have worn this Jell-O color like a badge of honor until it faded.
The water started to turn cold so I did one last scrub, then shut it off, stealing a fresh towel from Cole before pulling back on my flour-dusted jeans and The Maysen Jar T-shirt. I tied up my damp hair in a knot, then came out of the bathroom into Cole’s bedroom.
I’d been in such a rush to get out of my Jell-O clothes, I hadn’t really studied his bedroom earlier when I’d sprinted for the shower. But now, I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger on his sleigh bed right in the middle of the room.
Just like his shower, it was huge. The espresso wood of the footboard and headboard gleamed under the recessed ceiling lights. The simple khaki bedding went well with the white walls and chocolate-brown wood floors.
Had Cole decorated in here? Or had his ex? My lips thinned as I thought about the encounter with Aly earlier.
She was beautiful. Of course she was beautiful. Cole was hotter than the vast majority of male specimens on the planet. Of course his ex-girlfriend was gorgeous.
And clearly still in love with him.
Had he loved her too? Had he whispered those three words into her hair as he’d held her in his strong arms in this massive bed?
Before my head could wander too far down a green-eyed—er, toed—path, Cole knocked on the door. “Poppy?”
I jerked out of my daze, whipping my eyes away from his bed. “Come on in.”
His feet were bare as he came into the room. “I just wanted to see if you needed anything.”
“No.” I smiled. “Thank you for your help. I left your towels in the bathroom, but I’m not sure that green is going to come out.”
“I don’t care about the towels.” He stepped past me and sat against the footboard. His hands were braced on the wood at his sides, making the muscles of his arms pop. When he crossed one ankle over the other, I spun around so he wouldn’t see my heated cheeks.
Damn, he was sexy. The image of Cole in that seemingly casual stance would forever be stamped on my brain.
I took a few long seconds to collect myself as I pretended to study his decor. “I like your house.”
“Thanks. I got lucky and bought it for a steal because it was the last house on the block that hadn’t been restored yet. It’s taken me a while, but I’m finally getting it fixed up to this century.”
I nodded and smiled, peeking over my shoulder to see he hadn’t moved. Back came the heat to my face, but this time it didn’t stop at my cheeks—i
t went all the way down to my core, stirring a desire that had been dormant for a long, long time.
He pushed off the bed. “Want the full tour?”
“Yes, please.” Sheesh. I’d hid my flaming cheeks, but there was no mistaking my breathy voice.
But Cole—in true Cole fashion—just grinned his knowing grin and crossed the room without a word.
I took one last look at his bed. The image of me sleeping naked under his sheets popped into my head, but I shook it away. Why was I thinking about sex with Cole? We hadn’t really even kissed yet—unless you counted the brush of our lips in Brad and Mia’s garage. And even then, that hadn’t been the type of kiss that led to a long, sweaty night together and me waking up in his arms.
My body was getting in front of my head and it needed to slow down. Way down. Which meant I needed to get the hell out of Cole’s bedroom.
Slamming the door on all things sex and kissing and the way Cole’s ass looked in his jeans tonight, I followed him into the hall as he started his tour.
“The master used to be two rooms.” He knocked on the wall as he led me down the hall. “I had one converted into the bathroom and closet.”
I ran my hand along the door as I peeked into the guest bedroom. “I love that you kept all of the original doors and trim.”
“Me too. It was a bitch for the construction crew to get cleaned up but worth the added time.”
Cole lived in an older downtown neighborhood in Bozeman. Unlike my house, located in one of the newer, cookie-cutter subdivisions, homes in this area were filled with character and surrounded by hundred-year-old trees.
The trim and doors were a rich brown, similar to the color of the restored hardwood floors. The crown molding, painted white to match the walls and ceilings, was thick and carved with an intricate pattern absent in new homes. And the old brass-and-glass doorknobs were something people would spend a fortune on now.
After showing me another spare bedroom and bathroom, Cole led me down the staircase situated in the center of the house. Just like upstairs, the old-style charm had been restored and mixed with the luxuries of modern-day life.