Page 26 of Yuletide Acres

Chapter 6

Dylan

“Don’t say a word, Mom,” I bite out, slamming the cupboard shut and pouring myself a finger of scotch.

“My lips are sealed. Although, you brought this on yourself, Dylan. You know that.”

“Stop helping, okay? You’re not helping.” I feel like a moron. My mother directs me to take Poppy to dinner, as if I’m twelve and incapable of asking a woman out on a date.

Then, to top off an already banner evening, Troy steals Poppy right out from under me. And she allows it!

I hear my mother’s chuckle and shoot her a glare. I swear that woman is getting way too much enjoyment at my current predicament.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. In all my days, I’ve never seen you like this. All flustered and uptight around Poppy.”

“She drives me crazy.” Hey, it’s the truth.

“Those are the best kind.”

“She’s dating Troy.”

My mother smacks my arm, shaking her head in exasperation. “She is not. She was as shocked as you were by his offer, but at least Troy acts like he wants to spend time with her. You’re too busy cutting her down and insulting her. Poppy is convinced that you hate her.”

“I don’t hate her.”

“I know, but maybe she needs to know that fact. Even if the rest of the town has already figured out that you’re head over heels for her.”

I shoot a glare in my mother’s direction. “I am not—”

“Don’t even bother. I know when you’re lying. Change of subject—”

“Thank God,” I mutter.

“Something odd happened. Marissa mentioned the other day that she was waiting for Poppy. It seems they have the same dreamtime visitor.”

“It’s a coincidence, Mom.” I speak the words, but deep down, I don’t believe them.

“How many coincidences need to exist before you start to believe there’s something bigger at work?”

“Like destiny?” I retort, downing my drink.

“Exactly. Didn’t you find it odd the words that Poppy used tonight? Just do it already. Stop stalling. That is Merry. Did Poppy ever use terms like that?”

I shake my head, running a hand over my beard. “No.” I chuckle as I picture Merry with her hands on her hips, her lips pursed in aggravation. Patient, my wife was not. And the words that Poppy spoke were straight from Merry’s repertoire. I couldn’t believe it when she uttered those statements.

But my logical, factual mind is having a hell of a hard time wrapping itself around the concept that my dead wife called out to my long-lost love in an effort to reunite us.

Doesn’t matter now. Troy has taken my spot.

“Enough about Poppy. Can we talk about something else? Anything? Plagues, war, famine?”

Another laugh from my mother. So glad my life brings her amusement. “Fair enough. What about the Yule celebration?”

“What was that nonsense about my great-grandmother being pagan?”

“It’s not nonsense. She was a founder of the town almost a hundred years ago.”

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