Page 8 of Yuletide Acres

“You were never lacking a good tale, Poppy. Did you know that I’m the mayor of Yuletide Acres?”

Her mouth drops open at my statement. “You are? Wow. I had no idea, actually. D, I never knew your last name. Or your first name, to be honest.”

“That wasn’t part of our agreement, right?” I extend my hand. “Dylan. Dylan West. Is your name really Poppy?”

“Since day one. Poppy Mills, pleased to meet you. Again.” Poppy grips my forearm and I feel the heat from her fingers travel along my skin. This woman is the most mesmerizing creature I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I feel myself getting all twisted up in her energy once again.

Her fabulous, seductive energy. That settles it. The woman is a damn siren.

“Would you like a cup of tea? I have all these fabulous blends, and luckily, they were in the first box I unpacked.”

I shake my head, unable to peel my eyes from her countenance. What I want is to grab her, push her up against a wall and see if she tastes as sweet as she did our last night together. My guess? She tastes sweeter.

Fuck, that got my dick’s attention. Apparently all my body parts miss this woman.

She leans against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest and pushing up those full breasts. I know it’s an unconscious gesture, but my raging hormones couldn’t care less. “Tell me about your life. You’re the mayor. This is a beautiful town.”

I’m so lost staring at her tits that I miss half her statement. Tearing my eyes back to her face, I meet her knowing grin with a stony one.

I can’t fall for this woman. Not again. I know that I’m not what she wants. Ten years ago? I was her everything. Today? I’m a widower with a small child.

Poppy is a free spirit. She scoffs at rules and tradition. Best to start building the emotional wall between us now—brick by brick.

I run a hand over my beard, willing my brain and body to settle. “I’ve traveled the country, but nothing compares to the beauty of Yuletide Acres.”

Except for Poppy Mills, of course.

Focus, man. Get it together. Keep your distance.

“How are you here, Poppy?” Ouch, that sounds biting.

“Long story. I was drawn here. I saw the town in my dreams and knew I had to come.”

“Drawn here? Don’t tell me you still believe in fate and destiny.”

Her face falls at my bitter tone. “Actually, I do. I suppose that’s naïve of me.”

“To say the least,” I grumble, wincing at the hurt crossing her beautiful features. “Where have you been? Still traveling the circuit?”

“Heavens, no.” She bites her lip, looking downward. “I left soon after you did. I’ve been in Oregon. A town called Eugene in the Willamette Valley. I ran a holistic practice there.”

I drum the counter with my fingers, my face drawn into a scowl. “Holistic practice? What does that mean?” Yes, I’m being a dick. But I need to maintain a distance between us. This woman is my drug of choice, and a decade apart has not tempered the allure.

Poppy shifts her weight, uncomfortable under my intense scrutiny. “Acupuncture, herbal medicine, massage. Oh, and crystal therapy. That’s the front part of the shop.” She waves a hand at the piles of boxes scattered on the floor.

“Still into that hocus pocus nonsense, huh? I figured you would have outgrown it by now.”

Her jaw sets, and she clears her throat. “It’s not hocus pocus. It’s complementary medicine. The therapies I employ have been used for thousands of years around the globe. I help people.”

“Right.” Now I’m clenching my fists at my side. It’s my only hope to keep from reaching for her, stripping off her jeans and showing her my variety of complementary therapy. It’s been around for thousands of years, too, and I guarantee it will have us both relaxed once I’m through.

Not helping the dick issue.

Poppy straightens, raising her hands as if warding off an attack. “Are you mad at me, D?”

“Dylan,” I snap.

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

---