Dreaming of His Snowed In Kiss - Jessie Gussman Page 0,9

by himself.

To learn how to handle children, to cook for more than himself, and to do this whole diaper/baby/bottle/little people who can’t do anything for themselves thing.

One at a time. That’s the way it should have been.

“Where we going to sit, Mr. West?” Leave it to Warren to ask the obvious question.

The one he didn’t have an answer to.

“If you don’t mind going in the back, you guys can all sit down back there, and I’ll take care of you there.” Poppy had come over, with her smile and her pep and her eternal optimism that right now West just wanted to smash into the ground with the heel of his boot. Either before or after he grabbed a hold of it with both hands and buried his whole face in it.

She tore him in directions he didn’t want to go.

“That’s okay. I was going to take the kids to the park anyway. I guess that’s what we’ll do and come back later.”

“But I’m hungry,” Garrett said with a whine in his voice.

Of all the children, Garrett seemed to be taking the changes the worst.

“Of course you are. I think kids your age are always hungry,” Poppy said with a smile, scrunching down a little so he could see her better.

Garrett shrank back and tucked himself behind Warren with only his head sticking out as he looked with wide eyes at the lady who was smiling at him.

“I am not.”

West bit his tongue over the automatic correction that came to his lips. If it were his kid, he’d be talking to him about contradicting an adult. But it wasn’t his kid, and Garrett had been through a lot. He wasn’t getting a pass for the rest of his life, but he could get a pass for a little while as his mom fought cancer.

He hoped Poppy could see the apology on his face, but she didn’t look at him.

“But you are now,” she said, sweetly and softly and with a smile that, if she turned it on West, he would never be able to resist.

Apparently, Garrett and he had some things in common, even if he didn’t have the disposable underwear issues that Garrett did.

At least not yet. He almost felt like he could be driven to it at this point.

“I’m hungry. I want French fries.” Garrett stepped out a little from behind West’s leg and took a tentative step toward Poppy.

She didn’t move toward him, almost as though she knew his bravery was tenuous and didn’t want to make a move that would push him back.

From the little bit he’d been around her in church and now with these kids, it seemed that Poppy had been around a good many children.

He assumed she was as innocent as the baby in the carrier but had grown up in church, maybe working in the nurseries, and knew about children from that.

Somehow, he wondered about the accuracy of that assumption.

“I can get you some French fries. Would you like a hot dog to go along with that?” she asked, still not crowding on Garrett’s space, allowing him to make the moves.

He nodded his head yes. “And I want chocolate milk.”

“Done.”

She straightened, and those hazel eyes that seemed to be green at times, and then brown, and then both, met West’s, and he forgot to breathe.

Forgot about the kids in his arms.

Forgot about the empty blackness in his soul.

Her smile did that to him.

Her laugh was deadly.

He needed to stay away from her. She was everything he ever wanted and all the things he couldn’t have.

He squared his jaw and made sure his face was stoic.

“Good morning, Grumpy. Did you miss the sunshine this morning? How can you be so angry looking on such a beautiful day?”

“If you would have had my day, you’d know,” he growled. “Plus, Peppy. It’s afternoon.”

Of course, her smile didn’t dim. If anything, it got brighter.

“My day’s been going great, thanks for asking.” Her green eyes got bigger if that were possible. “Now, are you going to take these poor starving children to the back and sit down with them or not?”

“Or not.”

“Okay. You need me to kick someone out? Which table?” She turned and leaned toward him like they were sharing a secret.

It was all he could do to not move back. Poppy was definitely not the person he wanted to share secrets with.

“How about Mr. and Mrs. Ritchie? They’re in their 90s if they’re a day. They shouldn’t be having a whole table to themselves.”

“It will