Page 31 of Sunshine
“Poppy has Izzy all day tomorrow, so you can find an hour or two to fix yourself up. Go get a haircut. Buy a new pair of shoes.”
I blow a hard breath out my nose. “Okay.”
“Then you’re meeting Molly for drinks at eight.”
“But—”
Daisy flings up a hand to shut me up. “I’ve already talked to Liz—”
“Youwhat?” Liz is my sous chef and second in command, and I’m pissed that my sister went over my head. “Why would you do that?”
“I knew you’d try to use work as an excuse to not do this, and I’m too clever to let that happen. I asked Liz if she could cover for you, and she was only too happy to step up. If you ask me, she’s ready for a little more responsibility. Have you thought about making her head chef on weekends?”
“Daisy,” I grind out through clenched teeth. “I’m hitting my limit here.”
“Sorry. Sorry. You’re meeting Molly for a drink at The Slippery Tipple at eight o’clock. See? I’ve kept it all low key. Nothing serious. Nothing scary.”
“The Tipple?” I frown as the logistics don’t come together fast enough. “What about Izzy? Will Poppy stay late?”
Daisy flaps her hand. “No, she works with her mom on Saturday nights. I’ll stay home with Izzy.”
Before I can freak out about meeting a strange woman with Poppy nearby, another kind of panic hits. I won’t be here to put Izzy to bed, and if there was ever a valid excuse to call this whole thing off, this is it.
“I don’t know, Daze,” I say. “Izzy’s been a bit funny about bedtime lately. She likes it when I’m there to tuck her in.”
“So, we’ll have a movie night in the living room. Sundaes and sleeping bags. We’ll crash together on the couch and you can carry her upstairs when you get home.” Daisy crosses her armslike a small, blonde dictator. “I’ll clear every hurdle you throw at me, brother. Don’t think I won’t.”
I believe her, plus she’s got way more energy than I do and I’m already tired of fighting.
“You win,” I say. “I’ll go on your date with Molly, but don’t go making plans for me behind my back anymore, okay? Just… Just talk to me first. Let me make my own decisions.”
Daisy nods as her lips roll together with a smile that might be an apology or might be an attempt to hide a lie. “No problem.”
I drag my tired ass up the stairs, check on Izzy one last time, and then fall into bed on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, but sleep won’t come. I toss and turn, finally giving up so I can stare up at the ceiling and try to muster up a shred of enthusiasm for Daisy’s blind date.
My sister was right about hiring a nanny. Maybe she’s right about Molly being the kind of partner I need. Someone perfect on paper.
It isn’t long before images of Poppy creep into my head—pictures I’ve tried to ignore but only get brighter the harder I deny them. Her mouth curving in a satisfied smile. The crease of her ass behind the rip in her jeans. The swell of her tits beneath her sweaters and the arch of her foot when she removes her boots. The delicious glow of her soft, smooth skin. The sweet snare of her cherry lips.
With a tortured groan, I shove my hand into my briefs, wrap my fingers around my throbbing dick, and muffle my grunts as I pump and sweat my way to a mediocre orgasm that barely takes the edge off. When it’s over, I close my eyes and catch my breath, then grab a couple tissues from my nightstand and clean myself up.
Ten minutes later, I’m staring at the ceiling again. It isn’t enough. Nothing but the real thing will ever be enough.
ten
Poppy
I love it whenDylan calls me a brat. I love that I get under his skin. Acting up was the only way to draw his attention as a teenager, and I should have grown out of it by now, but the impulse is coded into my DNA. Every time that thick blue vein throbs in his neck or his hands curl into fists or he closes his eyes and breathes real deep like he’s about to lose control and it’s all because of me, my pulse pounds with a twisted type of high.
The exact opposite to how I feel now.
I cut my eyes to the booth in the corner, where Dylan is sharing a drink with the tall, attractive Molly. Her legs look great in her tight black jeans, and her dark hair is cut into a sleek, sexy bob. She’s also prettier in real life than she was on her socials—becauseof courseshe is.
And it gets worse because Dylan looks so damn good tonight.
I had an awesome day with Izzy watching her chase a ball at her soccer skills academy, make a mess in her ceramics class, then changing her into a tutu and cleaning the clay from her fingernails at our DIY beauty salon she named Poppy’s Princess Parlor. But today, when he wasn’t working, Dylan was shoppingfor new jeans and running product through his hair and sampling colognes until he found the one that makes me want to hand him my underwear and all self-respect.
And it was all forMolly.
