Page 51 of Faking It With the Grumpy Single Dad

I see something break in Percy’s expression, a brief look of guilt or remorse flashing across his face. But he shakes it off quickly and stands slowly as he keeps the ice pack pressed to his forehead. It shifts slightly for a brief moment for me to see thatPoppy definitely got him good. There’s a bump the size of an egg on his temple.

“This isn’t over, Pop,” he mumbles, his voice low and angry.

“Yes, it is,” I cut in, taking another menacing step toward him.

Really, I’m not an angry guy, but this idiot makes me want to chuck him into the sea and let the sirens have their way with him. As guardians of this shore, I’m sure they’re not pleased with him.

Poppy doesn’t need me to defend her, though. She drops her hand to my elbow, holding on tightly even as she maneuvers to stand in front of me.

“Yes, it is over,” she echoes. She turns to Officers Fitz and Sevim. “I’d like to press charges, please. Every charge that applies, including stalking, intimidation, and attempted defamation. And I would also very kindly ask that you please remove him from my property as soon as possible.”

The officers don’t hesitate. Officer Sevim, with his massive, surly stature, grabs hold of Percy and tugs him toward the door. Like the whimpering fool he is, Percy hisses dramatically in pain and tries to snatch his arm away. He loses the battle quickly, though, even as he starts hollering about his right to a lawyer on his way out of the cottage.

Nara lets out a long sigh and offers me a curious glance before turning her attention back to Poppy.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Ms. Minton?”

“I’m perfectly fine. Thank you, Officer Fitz.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be in touch.”

Nara heads out. The muffled sound of Percy’s protests can be heard from outside, but then the loud slamming of the police cruiser doors cuts him off.

Soon enough, the red and blue lights flashing through the kitchen windows fades away and all is silent.

Poppy collapses onto a plastic folding chair, the only furniture in here at the moment, and buries her face in her hands. I crouch down beside her, placing my hands on her knees. She’s still wearing the satin gown from last night, and even though it’s wrinkled and rumpled, she still looks unbearably angelic.

She glances up at me. Her eyes are tired, but there’s relief in her gaze.

“Well,” she murmurs, managing a wry smile. “That was an eventful morning.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Poppy.”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry you even had to see all that,” she says, her voice softer now. Vulnerable. “I really never thought he’d resort to physical intimidation. Maybe I shouldn’t have hit him, but I had to think fast. He came toward me and… well, it doesn’t matter now. This town was supposed to be my escape, you know? But he just couldn’t let me go.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” I tell her. “If anything, I should apologize for barging in, too. But I saw the cops and went on autopilot. I thought something might’ve happened to you.”

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a softness there that catches me off guard.

“Thank you, Joe. You’re a good man.”

I clear my throat, desperate to say something that might lighten the chaotic tension. “Well, just so you know, you’ll have to replace that two-by-four. Since you got blood all over it.”

She bursts out laughing. A real laugh—one that makes her shoulders shake and her eyes crinkle at the corners. “No problem, Joe.”

“Good,” I say, smiling back at her.

We stay like that for a moment, her in the chair and me on the floor beside her. In a weird way, I almost feel like a knight kneeling before his queen. But maybe that’s just the exhaustion and panic causing my brain to go haywire.

I glance around the room. Even without the lingering chaos of the altercation that just occurred between Poppy and Percy, it’s a disaster zone. We’re in the middle of the worst of the storm in terms of the renovation—that stage when everything looks awful and it’s difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

If Poppy is bothered by that, though, she doesn’t show it. She simply sits in the skeleton of her new home and lets her perfect posture droop. The slender strap of her dress slips down over the bare skin of her shoulder. I politely avert my gaze, but that brings Poppy’s attention directly to her attire.

She lets out a quiet laugh. “I should probably change.”

I nod, rising to my feet. “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” she answers immediately, no hesitation. “No, you don’t have to go.”

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