Page 9 of Last Second Chance

“You really think you’re good enough to teach someone else?” Faith asked with a teasing grin. “It’s been almost a decade since you did it. Youmightbe a little rusty.”

“Hey, some things you don’t forget.”

“Please go with him,” Faith said to me. “I don’t want him out there by himself and I know he’s just determined enough to do that.”

“By yourself?” I asked Michael. “What about Ben?”

“He’s ditching me to go on the wine tour.”

“The what?”

Faith looped her arm through Michael’s. “I’m taking the ladies out tonight to tour the different wineries on the island and pick some wine to serve at the wedding. Ben is going to be our designated driver.”

This was the first I’d heard about this wine tour, and I was willing to bet that Poppy was going to be there. She was a big fan of wine, so I knew she’d be hungover in the morning. Maybe I could do something about that…

“So, are you coming or not?” Michael asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Sure,” I agreed.

“Great. I’ll take care of renting the surf boards. Meet here around five?”

“I’ll be here,” I said.

They went inside after that, and I followed. I didn’t need to visit the beach right now if I was going to come here to learn how to surf later. Instead, I was going shopping. Poppy would need a few things to deal with her hangover tomorrow, and I was going to get them for her—an olive branch, of sorts.

Maybe that would get her attention and show her that staying away from each other was actually a terrible idea. Maybe it would even convince her to really talk to me, or to listen.

God, I just needed her to listen.

I was a man on a mission, damn it, and I wasn’t leaving this island until I’d told her everything that really happened that night.

CHAPTER5

Poppy

My head was killing me. The throbbing ache in my temples was pure agony and it seemed to sync up with the pounding at the door of my hotel room.

Who the hell was here first thing in the morning? Or whatever time it was. I couldn’t be sure, and I certainly wasn’t going to open my eyes and peer at the bright red numbers on the digital alarm clock. That would be torture for my sensitive eyes.

The knocking continued, and I pulled the pillow around my head to try to block it out.

No such luck.

Why in the hell did I have to drink so much last night? Stupid, delicious wine...

Finally fed up with hoping that whoever was there would go away, I dragged myself out of bed, purposefully not pausing to look in the mirror. I didn’t want to see myself after a night of drinking. I’m sure I looked like a complete disaster.

Squinting against the bright sunlight coming in from around the edges of the closed curtain, I stumbled to the door. I tried to peer through the peephole, but my eyes were too dry to focus. So, I just unlocked the door and pulled it open a couple of inches. Sticking my head in the small gap, I felt a sharp pain in my head from the harsh light as I took in the sight of the person standing in the hallway.

It was no one I knew, and it took my foggy, hungover mind a long minute to realize that I was staring at a delivery person dressed in a dark blue uniform with a brown basket hanging off his arm.

“Poppy Snyder?”

“Yes?” It came out as a question and he chuckled.

“This is for you.”

He held out the basket, and I tried to understand as I looked at the random objects inside.

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