Page 34 of Poppy Kisses
I was glad she didn’t have to deal with that fear, but he also had bad taste if he wasn’t obsessed with her. “He clearly didn’t see you in a wet T-shirt after a shower.”
Her eyes flew wide and her face went fire-alarm red. “You weren’t— What— You didn’t react.”
I’d reacted, and I’d had to hide it from her. “You’re a guest, and I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I mean, it was a little insulting that you practically ran away.” She took a drink.
“I’m just a guy, Poppy, and you have nice tits.” She sputtered over her beer, and I grinned. Teasing her was fun, but I didn’t want to push my luck. “Did you ever date a finance bro?”
The look she gave me saiddon’t get me started. “I went out with a hedge fund guy, and he was nice. No chemistry. But then I dated a financial adviser, and between critiquing me about spending money on my morning coffees while he casually dropped that he had a gambling problem, I ran by the third date.”
Did I feel bad that she’d had such poor experiences dating? Yes. Was I happy that all of them had been dreadful? Also yes. But she was only telling me the fails, and I wanted to know about the ones who got to experience the full Poppy effect. “What kind of guy made it past the third date?”
Fondness filled her face, and fuck, I didn’t like that one bit. At least there was regret there. “I was with Dillon for two years.” Her brow furrowed as she twanged the top of her can. “I thought we were endgame, honestly. We liked the same things, had fun together, and I even thought he’d propose.”
A knife twisted in my gut. If she’d married, would we have ever reconnected? “You don’t have to talk about it.”
“No.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “It helps. I lamented to Clover after the breakup, but a few years have passed and…I can see better that it was a good thing he never bought a ring.”
The jackass hadn’t bought one. I was up to two. I never imagined I’d get a second wedding ring for someone. Was it better or worse that I knew the marriage would end going in? At first, it seemed better. But the thought of seeing Poppy pack her bags and leave made the beer sour on my taste buds.
“He wasn’t good for you?” I asked, knowing damn well the answer was no. Poppy deserved someone amazing. There was one other time I had thought that. One time I had seen her as a girl who had a lot to offer. More than competition. More than friendship.
“No, he really wasn’t. It was the insidious things. The ‘my ex never would’ve worn a color like that, but you have confidence’ comments. Not real compliments that didn’t have an edge, and when he normally saw how I dressed up”—she waved a hand over her outfit—“I guess I thought there’d be more. But that was the thing. There was nothing, so I didn’t even notice.”
The only thing she would look better in than what she wore would be nothing. I couldn’t finish that thought and not tent my pants. “You deserve compliments when you wear pants.”
“What kind of pants?”
“Any.”
Her eyes flew wide again. “My assandmy boobs?”
I was pushing it, but I continued to say stuff around her I shouldn’t. “I’m a man sharing a house with a sexy woman. So let me get that out of the way and assure you I’ll behave myself.”
She studied me for a moment like she was deciding what to say. “Maybe that’s the thing. My competitive side. I want to be the sexiest and not have it pointed out in small ways that I’m not. I’ve gotten picky.”
“Be picky, Poppy. Don’t settle.” No asshole had better make her feel small again.
The corner of her mouth lifted. “Except for when I’m getting something out of the deal, like free work on an office space?”
“Even then. If you don’t like something I do, tell me.” Poppy deserved to feel good. She deserved pleasure. A lot of it.
“You might regret saying that.”
“Eh, I’ve heard worse.”
Curiosity entered her gaze. “Is it the work stuff you told me about?”
I hadn’t talked about my marriage to anyone. I’d made mistakes. That had to be clear from my flagging business compared to the fact my ex-wife’s got magazine features. “Yes and no.” I scrubbed a hand down my face and took a long pull from my beer. “Hassie’s a perfectionist. You probably remember that.”
“I do,” she murmured.
“I came up short. A lot.” I hadn’t been able to please my ex. I wasn’t into horses enough, I couldn’t travel enough, I wanted a home life and not to live out of a trailer on rodeo grounds. I didn’t want to raise our kid on the road or push horse culture on him when he was more interested in dinosaurs and playing catch.
I had wanted to be the husband my dad had been, to be a man he would’ve been proud of, but nothing I did had made Hassie happy. “Let’s make another deal.”
She gave me a wary look. “I don’t know. I ended up with a husband and weekly dates after the last two bargains we struck. We’re not negotiating with fruit snacks anymore.”
