Page 6 of Choosing Forever
I lean on my back foot and grimace when the heel of my boot sinks into the ground. The field I’m in is huge, empty, and fucking wet after the endless rain today. We’re two hours north of Cherry Peak and a few gravel roads from the main highway on a plot of land my younger sister and her soon-to-be-husband have just purchased.
The woman herself is standing ankle-deep in mud and glaring at me with a fierceness that I’ve had to bear witness to for the last twenty-nine years. We’re only one year apart, but fuck, she acts like she was born at least another five before I was.
Garrison, her fiancé, watches me from her side, his usual asshole expression set in place. I can’t help but stare at his outfit, a laugh bubbling in my throat. Since the guy notices everything, he cocks a brow at me.
“Yes?”
“What the fuck are you wearing out here?”
“Don’t tease him to try and distract us. We’re talking about Sasha right now, D,” Poppy pushes.
I leave that alone and drop my focus to the once-shining black shoes now sunken into the mud. “If you want to build a house out here, you can’t be wearing those fancy shoes. The ground holds moisture. I thought you’d moved past the whole city boy thing.”
“I came straight from the office,” he grunts, lifting his foot and shaking it off. “My boots are at home.”
“And what about you? There’s no excuse for your fancy little booties,” Poppy returns, toeing my boots with hers.
The pink cowboy boots she’s had for years now are old and worn down, but still very her. I gave up wearing boots like thatwhen I was a teen. If I wanted my toes to be squashed all the time, I’d buy cheap shoes a size too small. Cowboy boots are too damn expensive to be as uncomfortable as they are.
And my “fancy little booties” are dark brown work boots. The kind that are halfway between clunky and fashionable. Or so Bryce tells me. They were a gift from my closest girlfriend last Christmas.
“I carved four hours out of my day to be here today instead of heading back to work. Be nice to me,” I tell her.
“The least you could have done is brought my niece with you so I’d have someone to giggle with while you boys talk.”
I scoff a laugh. “We all know you wouldn’t be standing around giggling with or without Abbie. You have more to say about the house than Garrison does.”
“She has an entire notebook full of ideas for you,” Garrison says.
“Did you bring it with you?”
Poppy nods and reaches into her purse to pull it out. “Of course I did. I need this to be perfect. After the house is finished, I’ll never be moving again.”
“This will be forever, then?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
It’s been forever for Poppy and Garrison since he arrived in Cherry Peak and sent my sister into a tailspin. Now, they’re finally ready to put down permanent roots somewhere a bit closer to home. In a perfect world, those roots would be in Cherry Peak itself, but my sister has always been too big for our hometown. She has dreams that would be smothered there. The grumpy billionaire in front of me right now gave her the push to make them a reality instead.
Poppy leans into his side, gazing up at him softly while saying, “Yeah, it’s forever.”
I look away, unable to keep watching that all-consuming love pulse between them. A gnawing sensation grows in my stomach, and I take a step back, eyeing the open field. It’s easyenough to distract myself with the possibilities this generous amount of land offers for their potential house. I’ve never designed anything for family before, but this is what I love. It’s my bread and butter and the entire fucking Thanksgiving dinner.
Between drowning in architecture, volunteering at the fire station, and spending time with Abbie, I’ve worked hard to keep myself busy these last few years.
Busy is good. It leaves me less time to sit and think.
“Good. I’ve already given you the warning, but I know how to burn a body. Bet I’d be pretty good at it too,” I say.
Poppy rolls her eyes, sighing. “Hasn’t it gotten old threatening him by now?”
“No.”
“Death by fire isn’t appealing to me,” Garrison states, deadpan.
I tip my chin. “Glad we have an understanding. Now, back to the house. Show me your designs.”
Poppy’s quick to hand the book over, and I peel the front page open to an explosion of pink and purple pen. The heart at the top corner with a P+G scribbled inside has me forcing back a laugh before I scroll my eyes down the rest of the page.
“Obviously, I don’t need all of these things,” she says, watching me as I read.
