Page 24 of Poppy Kisses
She’d perked up at the thought of having her family attend, of gathering everyone to enjoy a day that was supposed to mark the beginning of everything together instead of acting like we were beginning a countdown. Then she’d gotten quiet when the details started coming together.
Her family had scattered ahead of us. My mom was standing by Magnolia, laughing. Alder and Weston were chatting together. Linda and Darren had eaten and left. Mom had loosened up immensely once that happened. She’d given them a wide, guilty berth. Linda assured us that in a month, when the renters moved out, she’d give us the key. She had even seemed to look forward to the wedding.
Did I?
I liked seeing Poppy light up and relax into me, but my stomach churned at the idea of walking down the aisle. This time, I knew the bride would be leaving me. Wasn’t that better?
The heartburn left behind after my burger told me differently.
I was getting married again. The plan to elope hadn’t felt fake, but it had registered in my head as transactional. Now I’d be a groom, standing in front of people I loved and respected, speaking my vows loud enough for them to hear. Only, unlike last time, I wouldn’t mean it.
Was that what was bothering me?
Were the same questions plaguing my bride? She hadn’t been married before, but she’d be doing the same—vowing ’til death do us part in front of family and friends.
Poppy started doing lunges and rocking back and forth.
Too many eyes were on us, or I’d talk with her. Instead I took a step back and snuck a peek at her ass. I could argue it was to help believability. I was supposed to be smitten with this woman, and truthfully, I was enamored with her.
Perhaps that was fucking with me. I couldn’t quit picturing her at the wedding, in the fading light, the sky painted with pinks and purples, facing me with those luminous eyes. Would she wear a dress with a skirt that draped over her hips and hinted at those muscular thighs?
She started trunk twists, and I had the perfect view of the way her shirt tightened against her chest. If she continued her warm-up, I’d be doing a kickoff with a kickstand, and I’d boot the ball all of five feet.
“Poppy, are you stalling?” I teased. I was so losing this challenge.
“Why would I be?” She gave me that same smug look she used to shoot me when we were younger. She knew she had this in the bag, and I was goddamn excited to see how badly she wasted me.
“Taking your sweet-ass time with that sweet ass of yours.”
Shock filled her face. “W-what?” She turned as if she was trying to see if I was really talking about her butt.
“Yes, your ass, and I’ll be watching it the whole time you’re kicking.”
Pink dusted across her cheeks, and her eyes shone. “You’re trying to mess with my mind.”
I was being one hundred percent serious. “If I was doing that, I’d also tell you that when you do your torso twists, I can tell whether your bra has lace or not.”
She sputtered and glanced down at her shirt. She hunched her shoulders. “Quit getting in my head.”
If she wanted to think I was lying, I wouldn’t argue. This was the stuff we should be doing in front of her parents. The problem was that I meant it.
“I’m gonna go first,” I said. I tapped her white-and-yellow soccer ball to the cone she’d used for a starting marker. “Keep those sweet cheeks out of sight, or I’ll think you’re a cheater.”
Her scandalized gasp rang out. “You know I never cheat, marble chest.”
The ball was forgotten. “What now?”
Her cheeks flamed. “You said sweet cheeks. I said marble chest.” She rolled her lips in, refusing to admit how ridiculous that was.
I grinned. “You were checking me out?”
“Was not!”
Everyone was watching us, but no one was closer than twenty yards. Still, I leaned in. “Do you flush red, like your name, everywhere?”
Her jaw fell, but she snapped it shut. “You’re the cheater, trying to throw me off.” Glaring at me, she stomped away several feet. Then she jumped up and down a few times. I jerked my gaze off her chest before she narrowed her eyes. “Better kick the ball before that epic warm-up of yours wears off.”
Oh, I was warm. I was also having fun. Except for her thinking that I was flirting with her to throw her off. No, my question about her flush happened to be one I wanted to very much know the answer to.
