real to me,” Damian said, bolting out of his seat. His vision narrowed and his brain fogged. He grabbed the back of his seat and bowed his head until the listless sensation dissipated. No sleep in over twenty four hours, mixed with limited calories, proved an unhealthy combination. He grabbed a handful of candies from the bowl on the small table in front of him and popped them in his mouth. As he chewed, a chalky, floral tasting substance stuck to his teeth. “What is this?” he gagged out, then quickly washed it down with a bottle of water.
Kai looked at him like he was thick in the head. “Why would you eat something if you didn’t know what it was?”
“Rich guy’s jet,” said Damian, holding up his palms. “I expected something delicious.”
“That’ll teach you.” Kai’s brows shot up. “Never trust a rich guy, but I don’t think you need to worry. Poppy said they’re vitamins.”
The scent of ground cinnamon met Damian’s nose seconds before Poppy emerged from the back of the plane, her eyes red and puffy.
His first instinct was to wrap her in a hug, kiss her forehead, and ask her what her idiot boyfriend had said. He couldn’t. Not only was physical contact prohibited now, it was something a nice guy would do. The uncommitted bad boy bit was the only way he could think to keep her interested until he could court her the right way. He’d only meant it to be a playful start to a relationship. Karma had a sneaky way of knocking him upside the head.
She looked up at him with a questioning expression. “What did you think of my proposal?”
“You tell me.” He extended out his arm to take her hand. “Dallas?”
Chapter Three
Poppy placed her hand in Damian’s. Her mind calmed, affirming she’d made the right decision. She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Yes.”
An ocean of city lights flickered against the loud hum of low airplanes overhead as Poppy stepped onto the top step of the stairway leading off the jet. Even at midnight, thick, damp air blasted her arms and face. Next to the stairway, huge metal arms clamped onto Wyatt’s wheelchair, slowly lowering him to the ground.
Poppy took her turn, stepping down the stairs next to the enormous wheelchair lift. With each step, she moved closer to her new future and away from the ugly feeling she’d had during her conversation with Kent. Her guilt-laden misery had been her own doing. Kent was right; she should be ashamed of herself. She shouldn’t have kissed someone else while she still had a boyfriend.
She hadn’t disclosed to Kent whom she’d kissed. When Kent accused Kai of being that man, she flew into a rage and ended their relationship. She’d suggested that Kent return to Idaho because she was moving to Dallas. In the end, his sobbing outmatched hers. He’d begged her to reconsider.
“Poppy, your passport?” said Damian, nudging her arm.
She blinked the inside of the airport into view. While driving, her head would sometimes become so wrapped up in something that she’d subconsciously zone out familiar roads until she arrived at her destination. But that had never happened in a foreign environment before.
“Passport?” Damian repeated.
“Sorry,” she said to the airport security woman. The sixty-something woman responded with a deadpan expression. Poppy dug into her laptop bag and pulled out her passport. With an apologetic smile, she handed it to the woman. The husky immigration officer didn’t smile back. However, she did return Poppy’s passport and motioned for her to move along, which was a plus, considering three seconds earlier Poppy had been certain she’d be detained, questioned, and searched. “That was close,” she said to Damian. “For a minute there I thought they might strip search me.” She joked as they walked through the shiny white airport.
Damian coughed. “Do they do that?” he asked with concern.
She laughed.
He did a double take. “Wait. Are you playing with me? You have a sense of humor,” he stated in a surprised tone. His countenance had changed somehow. He seemed more attentive, more engaged.
Wyatt pulled up next to them in his wheelchair and snapped his fingers to get Damian’s attention. “Why is everything white? It’s like every designer has gone colorblind or something.”
Damian looked to his side at Poppy with an expression of chagrin. He said to Wyatt, “Ya thinking about becoming an interior designer, Wyatt?”
“No, but couldn’t they splash a little color in there? Live a little brighter,” said Wyatt. His head