Page 29 of Keeper
This is madness. I need to get control of this situation. I need to remember what Booker did all those years ago. I need to remember that if he didn’t see me romantically before, he won’t now. He had a lifetime to develop feelings for me—real, genuine feelings—and he didn’t.
I’ll take a cold shower and put these raging hormones to bed. Without a happy ending. I simply need to keep being myself and let Booker Harris do whatever it is he needs to do.
There. Blocked that shot from a mile.
Me: Hey, I keep missing you at the flat this week, but does 9:00 work to pick you up tonight for the party?
Poppy: Oh yes! I almost forgot. I finish at 8:30, so that’ll be just enough time to run home and freshen up. Do you know what the attire is?
Me: Attire?
Poppy: Casual? Formal? Flirty?
Me: Flirty sounds good.
Poppy: Good for whom exactly?
Me: Depends where you’re aiming it.
Poppy: …
Poppy: …
Poppy: …
Poppy: I think I have Belle’s number in my phone from a few weeks ago. I’ll text her to find out. I’ll see you tonight. Are you sure I can’t just take a cab?
Me: NO.
Poppy: There you go again, keepering me.
Me: Keepering you?
Poppy: I’ll tell you tonight.
Me: Can’t wait.
Poppy: XX
Two kisses. Is that a good sign? What does that mean? Are they two kisses like, “I heard you jerk off with my name on your lips, and I’m completely creeped out by you”?Or are they, “I heard you jerk off with my name on your lips, and I’m completely turned on by you”? Maybe they’re just polite air-kisses that you’d give to European diplomats? If they are diplomat kisses, they are most definitely not a good sign. Not if you’re thinking about your best friend naked…again.
I pull up in front of our flat in Tanner’s big black truck that was relegated to me so he could get something even bigger. The wanker. I take our building steps two at a time until I reach our door. The smell of girlie perfume fills my nostrils as I enter. It always smells good in here. Growing up with brothers, it was common for our rooms to stink from month-old dirty socks stuffed in weird crevices. Living with a girl definitely has its perks.
Poppy strides out from the hallway, and I do a major double take. Triple take. Hell, quadruple take. She looks fucking fit.
Her short blonde hair is styled curlier than usual. It doesn’t have the soft sweeping look it usually does. It has volume. Fluff. Sass. Like her personality. Her long lashes are thick and black, framing her round brilliant green eyes that remind me of the pitch. She swipes a shiny gloss over her lips that are stained a deep ruddy colour, making them look heavy and plump. My mind instantly pictures my dick in her mouth from our first night together.
But the dress. The dress is so characteristically Poppy. It’s a sexy, nighttime version of a really short sundress. A shimmering black fabric with dainty pink and cream flowers printed all over. The straps on her shoulders are thin, holding up the dipping neckline that shows just enough cleavage to make me pant, but not enough to make me beg. She looks elegant. Like a woman.
“You look beautiful,” I loll, hoping my tongue isn’t hanging out of my mouth.
She looks up at me standing in the doorway. Her lower lip drops, parting from her upper as her gaze rakes over me. “You do, too. I erm…don’t think I’ve seen you in anything but team tees since I’ve been back.”
I self-consciously tug at my red and white checked button down that’s untucked over my tight jeans. “My wardrobe is a bit limited.”
She smiles. “I noticed.”
I swallow as the image of her wearing my shirt at Tower Park slices back into my mind. “Are you all set?”
