Page 86 of Keeper
My heart.
My soul.
My entire world shifts as he erases the distance between us and presses his lips to mine, causing me to crumble inside. Every brick that I built up against my feelings for Booker turn to dust and create a swirling storm of complete love and devotion for this man. No longer a boy. No longer a best friend.
Booker Harris is the man I love and the man who loves me back.
FUCK ME,ITHINK KISSEStaste better with love because Poppy’s lips have never tasted so bloody good. I want to pull her into the playhouse and kiss her all night long, but it’s not all up to me.
I hurt her. A lot. And I hurt her when she was the most vulnerable she’s ever been. She needed me and, like a sod, I let her walk away. For a bloke who’s terrified of losing people, I’ve sure seen more of Poppy’s back than I ever care to again.
Needing to hear how she feels, I regretfully break our kiss. Her lips are raw and parted as she sucks in huge gulps of air. I take a minute to appreciate her in front of me. She’s as beautiful as ever. Maybe even more so with her flushed cheeks and the red mark forming on her neck. Her dress hangs on by two thin straps, revealing her delicate neck and shoulders. I want to press my lips to every inch of her skin, but I need to know that we’re okay first.
“Poppy, will you say something?” I croak, swallowing nervously. “I’ve kind of laid it all out there, but you have yet to say much of anything. I hope after all this you see that I’m serious about us because I really do love you. I love you so much that if you try to walk away again, I’m going to have to follow you and embarrass you wherever you go.”
Poppy’s giggle brings comfort to my heart, but like the greedy sod I am, I need more.
“Please, Sunshine,” I beg. “Say something.”
Her smile fades and she tilts her head, her eyes sweeping over every part of my face, like she’s seeing me in a whole new light. “I can see you mean it. And I’m relieved, Booker, because there is seriously no one else in this world I could love more than you.”
I close my eyes and let her words soar through me. For a keeper who’s not used to shooting, I feel like I just scored the best goal of my life. I want to throw her over my shoulder and cheer so loudly that my family can hear it from our house. Hell, I even consider dropping down and doing the worm in a victory dance if only Tanner were nearby.
Instead, I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her up above my head. I spin her in a circle and the sound of her raspy laugh makes me feel like I’ve won the World Cup for my team. Her short blonde locks fan over her face like a halo as she looks down and kisses me.
“I love you, Booker,” she murmurs against my lips.
I set her down so I can kiss her back and reply, “I love you, too.” It feels good to say. Easier than I ever expected. The feelings have always been there. I just denied myself the words.
“Thank you for this.” She looks at the playhouse with tears in her eyes. “I can hardly believe you managed all of this.”
“I had a lot of help,” I state, threading her hand in mine and leading her over to the covered porch. “Come on, let me show you more.”
I open the tiny, crooked door to show her what’s been set up inside. While we were working, Vi brought out a stack of thick, cosy blankets, some throw pillows, a lantern, and a picnic basket. She gave me a hug and said we could skip Sunday dinner just this once. The proud look on her face was all I needed to continue with this crazy plan.
And it all worked. Poppy’s face as she steps inside and drops down on the floor is awestruck. She touches the walls—a natural knotty cedar plank provided by Brody and Theo. The tipped over tree ended up on the roof as quaint, half-circle shingles. It turned out to be bloody perfect. I never could have done it without them.
Poppy’s eyes are teary as she rubs her finger over the carving I put on one of the walls. It reads: BOOKER LOVES POPPY. A bit cheesy to be sure, but fitting, considering our history together as children.
We sit on top of the plush blankets. The inside is just long enough for me to stretch out on my side as I prop myself on a pillow. Poppy sits crisscross and continues to marvel at the small space. The sun slips behind the horizon, so I flick on the lantern and the tiny room is bathed in a soft yellow light.
“You really fancy seeing our child play in here?” she asks, soft shadows darkening half of her face.
Hearing her say “our child” sends a rush of adrenaline through my body. “I hope so.”
Her face looks nervous. “So, does this mean you’re excited to have a baby?”
Frowning, I reply, “Of course I am. Aren’t you?”
She fiddles with the seam of a throw pillow on her lap. “This isn’t precisely the way I wanted it to happen. I haven’t even started my proper job yet. We’re both so young. You said before you didn’t even want children.”
The anxiety on her face has me pulling her down on the ground next to me. We both lie on our sides facing each other with our hands fisted between our chests. It reminds me of all the sleepovers we had growing up. All the times we fell asleep staring at one another. I really have loved her forever.
“Poppy,” I state, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “When I said I didn’t want children, it was because I was scared.”
“Scared of what exactly?” she asks, her voice timid.
I pull her to me, my hand resting on the dip of her waist, our legs tangling around each other. “Do you remember that match you came to of mine? The one where you held Rocky in the stands next to Vi?”
