Page 46 of Forever To Me

I lean against the counter. “You got a point, or are you just here to make my life harder?”

“Oh, I always have a point.” She smirks. “And my point is—when are you gonna quit dancing around that girl and do something about it?”

I open my mouth. Close it. Because the truth? The truth is, I want to. I want Violet. But she is…Violet. Stubborn, smart-mouthed, and too good for me. She deserves better than what I can give her.

Maggie watches me like a hawk. “That’s what I thought.”

I exhale sharply. “It’s not that easy.”

“Oh, honey.” She pats my hand like I'mthe biggest idiot she's ever met. “Love is never easy. But you? You’re making it much harder than it needs to be.”

I drag a hand through my hair. “Maggie?—”

She cuts me off with a knowing smile. “You can fight it all you want, sugar, but that girl is yours. Everyone sees it. The only one still pretending otherwise is you.”

I let my head drop back, staring at the ceiling. God help me.

Maggie’s voice goes all sing-songy. “You know I’m right.”

I mutter a curse. “You always think you’re right.”

“Because I usually am.” She pats my arm before walking off, humming to herself. "I'll see you later."

And I, fully exasperated and maybe a little rattled, did the only thing I could—got the hell out before she could meddle even more.

Chapter 14

Violet

“Iswear to God, Violet, if you’ve been driving this thing with the check engine light on for months, I’m gonna revoke your car privileges personally.”

Poppy’s voice is muffled from under the hood, but I can still hear the judgment dripping from it.

I lean against the wall of the garage, arms crossed. “I wasn’t ignoring it. I was—” I pause, searching for a reasonable excuse.

She peeks her head out. A single brow arched as she waits for my lame excuse. “Yeah?”

I sigh, holding up my hands in surrender. “Okay, I was procrastinating.”

Poppy laughs, wiping her hands on an old rag. “At least you admit it.” She leans against the workbench, shaking her head. “Girl, I don’t know how this thing didn’t leave you stranded on the highway.”

I wince. It did. And it has before. This time I was just lucky that Walker came to my rescue.

I had a taste of Bridger Falls hospitality when my car died. Cami called Walker, and somehow, instead of my car beingrescued, I ended up wrapped around Walker’s back, riding through town on the back of his damn motorcycle.

I try not to think about that. Friends don't think about their friends like that.

“Well,” I say, kicking at the floor, “at least I made it here in one piece.”

Poppy snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Let me work my magic and see if I can keep you from breaking down again.”

She turns back to the engine, completely in her element, and I find myself watching her.

I like Poppy.

Poppy Murphy has the kind of beauty that doesn't need effort. She's all natural, all effortless, all completely unfair.

Her blond hair, thick and wild, is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, but loose strands have broken free, framing her bright blue eyes—the kind of blue that made you think of summers spent under an open sky. Even with a smudge of grease on her cheek, she still looks like she belongs on the cover of some western romance novel, the kind where the heroine tames the rugged cowboy with nothing but a smile.

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