Page 113 of Wallflower
“Wings!” Theo slams a palm on the table. “We need fucking wings!”
Poppy chuckles. “No problem. I’ll hook you up.”
“And laid.” Breaker slumps in his chair with a moan, his half-empty beer bottle clutched against his enormous chest. “I need to feel a woman’s touch.”
“Oh, Jesus,” West mutters as Jake snickers behind his hand.
“Sorry, buddy. I can’t help you there.” Poppy hooks a thumb toward Hayden, who looks like he’s getting lucky over at the bar. “Why don’t you hit up your friend for some tips?”
Breaker shakes his head with morose defeat and returns to his beer. Another cheer goes up around The Tipple at the Fury’s third goal of the game. Mine again.
Poppy turns her attention to Dylan, who hunches over his barely touched drink. My youngest brother is a little quiettonight, and Poppy flicks a puzzled look to Daisy, who replies with a subtle shake of her head and a silently mouthedI’ll tell you later.
I shoot Daisy a look to let her know she’s going to tell me too.
“And how about you, Dylan?” Poppy asks with unusual care. “Another top-up?”
Dylan gives her a fast smile, then stands without looking directly at anyone and shrugs into his jacket. “Thanks, but I’ve got to get back to Izzy.”
Poppy takes a step back to let him pass. “Of course. Where is she tonight?”
“Her mother’s in town, and they’re back at the ranch.”
“Her mother?” Poppy’s fingers flex around the handle of the sangria jug as her eyebrows lift with surprise. “I didn’t realize she—”
“Yeah, so I’ve got to go. Thanks for the drinks. Food was good, too.”
Poppy smiles with a small shrug. “Our pleasure.”
Dylan waves a generic goodbye to the table, and it’s interesting the way Poppy watches him walk away, staring and smoothing her apron before she gives herself a little shake and returns to the bar.
If I didn’t know their history and how desperately Daisy and Poppy tried to shake Dylan from their tails as kids, I’d say she was disappointed to see him go.
As soon as Dylan disappears through the door, I turn to Daisy with a pointed look. “What the hell was that all about?”
My baby sister purses her lips like she’s debating how much to share, then throws up her hands with an exasperated sigh. “Dylan’s in a weird mood because Annalise is here. We all know their parenting arrangement is a little unconventional, right? She never wanted custody of Izzy, and she only visits when itsuits her work schedule, but he was so damn infatuated with that woman when they met, and I’m not sure he ever got over it.”
Finn’s grunt sounds almost disapproving while Charlie hums her agreement.
“Annalise visits three, maybe four times a year,” Charlie elaborates. “Stays in one of the cabins on the ranch and spends a few days or a week with Izzy. Dylan’s a mess the entire time, but he shuts me out when I ask him about it.”
“Do you think he’s in love with her?” Violet wonders.
“I don’t know,” Charlie admits. “Dylan’s never suggested there’s anything serious going on. She’s got to be ten years older than him, a successful international lawyer working in diplomatic affairs. Always traveling and not interested in putting down roots. They’ve got nothing at all in common.”
“Maybe not,” Daisy agrees, “but she broke his heart.”
“Fuck,” I reply with a rough exhalation. “Really? I’ll talk to him.”
“You can try,” Charlie says doubtfully.
“And I will,” I insist. “Tomorrow. Right now, I’m going to take my wallflower out to the dance floor.”
Violet’s eyes light up, and I grin as I take her hand and lead her to the darkest edge of the dance floor. The beat is too fast for something slow, but I don’t care. I twirl her out and then spin her against my chest, and we sway together in the almost-shadows of the crowded bar.
I take off her glasses and hook them onto the neck of her tee, and for a long while, I do nothing but get lost in her eyes. The warm brown irises with flecks of gold that glitter in the muted lights.
I coast the back of my hand down her cheek, and she leans into it with a contented sigh. There are things I want to say to her, and maybe a drunken dance floor isn’t the most romantic place to do it, but the words spill from my lips before I can stop them.
