Poppy the unfaithful. Poppy the ungrateful.
I drop the sandals into my suitcase, blinking back tears. Taking a couple deep breaths, I rub my face with tired hands. “Oh, goodness. Girl, get it together.”
I don’t do this. I don’t wallow. I made my choices then, and I would make them all again.Life is all about choices, honeybun.I hear my Nana’s sweet voice saying the words as if she were standing before me.
I’ve been making some surprising choices here recently—like choosing to wrap myself around my neighbor like powdered sugar on a donut. Yeah, that happened. Colton was grieving, and I thought it was a good idea to stick my tongue in his mouth.
“Oh, god.”
Seeking any distraction, I hurry over to my closet and jerk out a couple more blazers. I clumsily fold them and place them atop the mounting pile in my suitcase. There’s no way I’m getting this thing closed without an industrial press. I stand there, staring at it, hands on my hips.
Colton hasn’t said anything about the kiss. We’ve both been so busy this week, I’ve hardly seen him. Part of it feels like some kind of fever dream. I was so swept up in stress baking and cleaning, then my mom called. Perhaps it was all in my head. Perhaps I just imagined that a handsome hockey player came over late at night and pinned me to the kitchen counter.
No, it definitely happened.
My stomach does a little flip as I remember the feel of his strong hands on me, the taste of his lips, all warm and chocolatey. Heavens, but he knows how to kiss. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about kissing him before. The man is simply undeniable. He’s confident, but not cocky, driven but not dominating. And he’s so beautiful I could literally cry. With those broad shoulders and the high cheekbones, it’s no wonder he lands modeling endorsements. Did I mention the way his warm brown skin gets this golden glow?
Seriously, it’s not fair that god made a man that beautiful and perfect and then put him firmly out of my reach. He’s out of reach because I don’t date the players.Ever. It was the one rule I made for myself when I started working in PR for professional sports. I see and manage too much of these men’s messy personal lives as it is. I don’t ever want to become part of the personal life getting managed.
No, Colton Morrow is a dream I get to dream from afar.
And Ihavedreamed about him. Many times. Last night in fact. I blush thinking about it. Let’s just say I got to know whether he was that talented with his tongue everywhere…
“He is your colleague, Poppy.” I point a finger at myreflection in the mirror. “You will not ogle him, and you willnotthink about him naked.”
My eyes go wide as new images flash in my mind: Colton running down the beach at sunset, Colton striding out of the surf, Colton stepping out my shower and handing me a towel—
“No!” I rush into the bathroom and start feverishly packing my toiletries and makeup.
Out on the bed, my phone pings. I have a new email.
I step back into the bedroom and pick up my phone. The new email is from hothockeyhunk22. The subject line says in all caps: URGENT—SEX CONTRACTS—HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL.
Lukas.
I check the time. 8:01 p.m.
“Seriously, is everything a joke to this man?” I sink down onto the end of the bed and tap the email open. The body just says, “As promised.” Holding my breath, I check the attachments.
There are seven.
“Seven contracts? It hasn’t even been sevendayssince our meeting! How the heck does he even find the time?”
Clearly, I’m in no mood to deal with Lukas Novikov’s sex contracts, but I tap open the first one. My eyes skim the first few lines until I get to the paramour’s name. My heart stops. It’s right there in blue ink, laughing up at me: Minnie Mouse.
“What the…?” I close it out and tap open the next one, only to find it signed by Natasha Romanov. I scoff “Black Widow? Seriously? Someone thinks rather highly of himself.”
I open the next three contracts.
Snow White.
Diana Prince.
Leslie Knope.
I glare down at my phone. “I am going tokillLukas Novikov.”
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