Page 12 of Faking It With the Grumpy Single Dad

Still, she hired me to help her with this cottage.

I peer inside the container. It’s mostly full of labeled cardboard boxes and random bits of furniture. If I expected the interior of Poppy’s shipping container to explode with taffeta, glitter, and jewels, I’m deeply mistaken.

It’s actually impressively organized.

Not that I really believe Poppy did any of that organizing herself. She definitely hired someone.

I clear my throat. “I mean, I could help you get some of this in the garage today, then tomorrow I can bring a few extra hands with me and we can empty out the rest?”

Poppy beams as if I’ve just offered her the greatest prize. “Really? You’d do that?”

“It’s no problem,” I answer with a shrug.

“Of course, I’ll pay you all for your trouble.”

“You’re already paying us, ma’am.”

For some reason, she giggles. “Yes, but I mean I’ll pay you extra.”

“That’s not necessary.”

She tosses a lock of hair over her shoulder. “Well, you can’t stop me.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I simply step forward and grab the closest box. Rhett and Jacob will be here in about twenty minutes, so I might as well keep my hands busy until it comes time to focus on the cottage.

Carrying the box, labeledKitchen - FRAGILE, I carefully set it down in one corner of the large, clean-swept garage. I expect Poppy to simply stand there and watch me, but when I turn around, I see she’s hauling a box of her own.

Even though I’m hardly one for small talk, I find myself nodding my chin toward the Bronco and saying, “Nice car.”

“Oh, thank you! Isn’t she gorgeous? I bought her last summer. You know, I was going to drive her out here, but I decided I’m not much of a road trip girl.”

I haul a heavy box labeledBooks - NonFicinto the garage.

“It’s a long drive from California,” I remark, mostly because I feel like I have to in order to avoid slipping into awkward silence.

“Gosh, Iknow,” Poppy gushes, nodding as if I’ve said something incredibly intelligent. “I mean, Malibu is practically about as far west as you can get, and Mermaid Shores is nearly as far east as you can get. Google Maps said it would take me almost a week!”

So, I was right. She really is Malibu Barbie.

Except, now that I’m getting a good look at her—since, the first time we met, I was trying to avoid eye contact with herandher attire—I’m realizing that she looks oddly familiar.

It’s something about the shape of her blue-gray eyes, and maybe her chin, which has a little dimple in the center of it. And her hair… I’m not exactly an expert in these things, but I’m pretty sure that’s a natural blonde. All those features combine into something that feels somewhat like déjà vu.

Still, there’s no way I’ve met this woman before.

But do I know anyone with the surname Minton? It’s not that unique.

While I’m lost in thought, there’s a heavythunkin the garage behind me.

“Oh, shoot!” Poppy exclaims. “Oh no. No, no, no.”

I whirl around, expecting to find her sprawled on the ground for whatever reason, but she’s gazing down in horror at a box she just dropped.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m so stupid,” she whispers, ignoring me. She drops to her knees. “I knew I shouldn’t have tried to carry such a heavy one. Ohno.”

I step closer, fearing that she might be on the edge of tears. The box is labeled vaguely: a simpleJM 1999written on the side of it.

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