Page 49 of Yuletide Acres

I double over, coughing. “What about him?” I eke out.

“You should marry my Dad.”

The child did not just say that. I glance at Dylan, who appears equally shocked by his daughter’s declaration. Okay, D, I’ll handle this one for you. “Well, your father is a very nice man, but I don’t like men with beards.”

Dylan scoffs and I swing my gaze in his direction. “That is not a legitimate reason, Poppy.”

I hold back the snicker as I push myself to a standing position. Nothing like bruising the handsome mayor’s ego. I shrug as I stand next to him, leaning on the opposite side of the doorjamb. “It’s a perfectly legitimate reason, for a six-year-old.”

“What’s your real reason?”

I bite my lip, containing the laugh. “I told you. I don’t like men with beards.”

He closes the space between us, our bodies mere inches apart. “You didn’t mind earlier.”

“I didn’t have a choice. You laid one on me.”

“The first time, yes. But I distinctly recall someone grabbing me back and returning the favor.”

I turn to face him, shooting him a surprised gape. “It’s clear now that you’ve done too many drugs. That’s the only explanation. I would never have kissed you back.”

Dylan laughs again, his fingers playing through the ends of my hair. “That must be it. Or, you’re lying, and you loved it as much as I did.”

I seize on his word. Love. Might as well spill the beans about my visitor earlier in the day. “Speaking of love, Gayle came by here this morning.”

Dylan groans, resting his forehead against the door frame. “What did she say?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me if what she said is true, no matter how it makes me feel?”

Another groan. I can’t imagine what this man thinks I might spout. “Of course. Lay it on me.”

“She claimed that I was your great love. That you had always been in love with me, and that you still were.”

He raises his head, those chocolate brown eyes warm with affection. “I told you that last night. And this morning.”

I want to remain an impenetrable fortress, locking my heart away from Dylan’s reach. I know now that’s impossible. “I didn’t know you told her. I didn’t think I should believe you.”

Dylan cups my hand, laying his forehead against mine. “I love you, Poppy Mills. I’ve always loved you.”

“Now, kiss.”

We jerk our gazes to Marissa, who’s watching us with a great deal of interest.

With an embarrassed laugh, I squat near Marissa, nodding at the animals. “Do you want to help me feed them?”

Dylan clears his throat, motioning to the door. “Actually, Marissa and I have to get dressed, or we’re going to be late.”

“What are you wearing, Poppy?” Marissa asks, and I glance down at my jeans and sweatshirt. “Not now. To the holiday party.”

“I wasn’t going.” Truth is, I didn’t know there was a holiday party.

“You have to go. It’s tradition.”

“I wasn’t invited,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks flame at his daughter’s insistence.

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