Page 46 of Yuletide Acres

Chapter 9

Poppy

Stay calm. Just stay calm. It was only a kiss. You’ve been kissed before.

I accelerate away from the shooting range, my hands wrapped around the steering wheel in a death grip.

Okay, it was way more than a kiss. It was the hottest moment I’ve experienced in the last decade. With a man who has done nothing but throw conflicting signals my way.

He said he loved me again, and I swore it rang true when I looked into his brown eyes. But Dylan is a charmer, and I’m sure he can make any lie resemble a beautiful truth to a woman desperate to believe it.

I choke back a sob, hitting the steering wheel with the heel of my hand. I’m so upside down I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Hell, I push him away and then grab him back to me, only to stop his advances moments later.

What is that about?

The last ten years certainly haven’t hurt that man in the kissing department. Wow.

I rub my neck, feeling the flush color my skin. Dylan could always kiss, but this time, there was something deeper in the moment. The way his hands pressed my body—closer and closer—as if he couldn’t get enough of me.

I know I couldn’t get enough of him. Even now, my skin tingles where his body rubbed against mine.

“Snap out of it, Poppy. The man is a player, and you just got played. Again.”

I drive back to my store, determined to get my head involved in thinking about something other than Dylan West.

I may be delusional, but I’m giving it a shot. I brew some tea, allowing myself some gentle yoga stretches as I will my heart rate and hormones down to their normal operating level.

The bells jangle above my door and I walk from behind the curtain, stopping dead in my tracks.

Not three feet from me stands the raven-haired woman from the bar.

There’s not a tea blend or yoga pose in the world to make this situation palatable. “Can I help you?” I manage, trying to control the tremble in my voice.

“I figured I should introduce myself. My name is Gayle.” She extends her hand, which I accept gingerly.

“Poppy.”

“I know.” She shoves her sunglasses on top of her head, pursing her lips. “May I have a moment of your time?”

Okay, that’s not how you normally start a conversation that ends with an ass beating. Progress.

“Sure. Have a seat.” I motion to the overstuffed chairs near the window. “Would you like some tea?”

“Love some. Thank you.”

I return with the mugs, chewing my cheek as I wonder what this woman could possibly have to say.

Stay away from Dylan?

You mean nothing?

I know where to bury you, so that they’ll never find the body?

“I saw you two together at the bar last night.”

“I remember.”

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