Page 38 of Poppy Kisses
“Neither of us needs anything other than to get married. Might as well make it fun. What do you want?”
I tried not to squirm under his stare. I couldn’t read his expression. “You don’t want to wear a tux. What else?”
“I get two decisions?” he asked lightly, but I heard the surprise.
“It’s the dog, isn’t it? You want her to be the ring bearer.”
Luna panted from her spot in the fading sun at the end of the deck.
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. Jensen had no business getting that much sexier as an adult. “Now that you mention it, I don’t want a fleet of attendants.”
“One or none?”
“You’d really be okay with none?”
The swing hinges squeaked lightly as I rocked. “It’s either all the sisters or none of them, honestly. None makes it easier.”
His expression turned contemplative. “I always envisioned just a bride and a groom. Simple. Elegant. But not fancy.”
“What was your wedding like?” I almost said first one, but it felt wrong. Technically correct, but he wasn’t mine. He wouldn’t be, even as my husband.
He crossed his arms and stared into the distance, giving me his profile. “Big. I swear everyone we ever met was invited. There were horses, a decked-out horse trailer to haul us around instead of a limo. That’s what the horses pulled.”
“Wasn’t that dangerous?”
“They went slow.” He worked his jaw. “It was…an event. Epic. People talked about it for years.”
“Wow.” Should I plan more? Our wedding would look like a kiddie rehearsal. It wasn’t a competition, but did he want more?
His gaze pierced me. “It was chaotic, Poppy.”
“You got more than you bargained for?”
“You could say that.” He scuffed the toe of his boot against the porch boards. It was the only western item he wore, but he’d done that in school. He was a ranch kid, only it hadn’t been his identity. Perhaps that was why we’d found ourselves doing so many of the sports together, forming our own competition. “But no to the dog being a ring bearer. I love the girl, but she’d eat it.”
“Ha! True. I’m highly suspicious she ate cow shit the other day.”
“She one hundred percent did.”
I giggled and he grinned, open and unjaded. My heart flipped right over.
I might have a crush on my fiancé.
Alarm spurred me inside. I could not have those thoughts around him. It’d seem more…pathetic. “I should probably get to bed. Night.” I darted into the house.
“Poppy.” He was right behind me. “You okay? Was it something I said?”
“No,” I said lightly.
“You’re lying.”
I frowned, irritated that he called me out on my shit. I stopped before I got to the hallway nook. “No, I’m not.”
“What’d I do?”
Fine. If he wanted to push it… “You’ve been flirting.”
His brow creased. “I didn’t mean to.”
