Page 42 of Faking It With the Grumpy Single Dad

“Thank you, Joe,” she whispers so quietly that I almost don’t hear it over the music.

“For what?”

Her eyes twinkle. “For being yourself.”

I squeeze her hand. “I don’t know how to be anyone else.”

She drifts closer to me as we keep dancing, one song blending into the next. We’ve migrated to the very center of the ballroom, staying together in the eye of the storm as other couples come and go.

The rest of the world feels miles away. I don’t even care if Percy’s still glaring at us or if I’m going to trip over my own feet any second.

I don’t care about anything right now except for her.

Chapter Thirteen: Poppy

Joe and I step off the dance floor, still catching our breaths and laughing softly about how flawlessly he pulled off the waltz.

As the music fades back into the far side of the room, however, so does our temporary bubble of peace.

Percy is positioned over by a set of glass doors leading out to the cliffside gardens, and he is watching us with a familiar expression—a mixture of smugness and jealousy that churns like a storm beneath his calm exterior. That’s how he’s looked at everyone he’s ever coveted something from.

As he moves toward us, I know that I can’t let myself cower or deflect or find some excuse to walk away. It’s time to face this head-on.

Percy’s gaze flicks between me and Joe, a faint scowl forming at the edges of his smile as he notices the way Joe’s hand is clasped so firmly around mine.

He raises his glass in a mock toast as he approaches, though his eyes are locked on Joe.

“Well, I see you’ve found new ways to entertain yourself at these sorts of functions, Poppy,” he says, his tone light but tinged with something bitter. “Teaching the lower classes how to dance, hm?”

I don’t have to look at Joe to know he’s bracing himself.

“Don’t be cruel, Percy. We’re here for charity, not for drama.”

“Right. Charity,” he replies in a condescending tone. His eyes flicker to Joe, his smirk deepening. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing, Poppy? This life you think you’re playing at—it’s not what you really want. You’ll get bored of this small-town fantasy soon enough. Trust me.”

He’s watching Joe with a half smile, clearly trying to get a rise out of him with the fact that mysmall-town fantasyincludes an unimportant, small-town guy.

I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to roll my eyes, but Joe steps forward, his voice calm and steady. “I hope you don’t mind me letting you know that you’ve got a stain on your tie.”

Percy’s face hardens, his eyes narrowing, but he can’t help glancing down at the front of his tie where, sure enough, a slight dribble of champagne has obviously stained the pure silk.

When Percy glances back up at Joe, my date is no longer even paying attention him. He’s smiling down at me. “Would you like to go get a drink, Poppy?”

“Allow me,” Percy cuts in.

I purposefully ignore him, angling my body toward Joe as if Percy isn’t even there.

“Yes, please,” I reply, batting my eyelashes.

Percy scoffs. As Joe steers me away, he blurts, “Won’t you dance with me, Poppy? For old times’ sake?”

“The old times have been over for a while now. No, thank you.”

Percy openly glares at Joe, as if the rejection came directly from him. “Fine. I’ll be seeing you around, Poppy.”

Joe’s arm snakes around my waist as Percy stalks away. “He’s a piece of work, isn’t he?”

“Indeed,” I mutter, shaking my head. But the relief I feel as he disappears into the crowd is undeniable. “I’ll call that a success, though. He’s gone. And he was convinced enough by our dancing to throw a rude comment at you.”

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