it. To stop obsessing about the consequences and just give in to how incredible that truth was.
“And this is where I back out slowly and close the door,” Preston said.
Her second was over, so she planted both hands on Turner’s chest to separate them. “You can have him,” she said on a sigh, mesmerized by his face. “I just wanted to believe it for a second.”
The dreamy ease on Turner’s expression vanished in a flash. “You don’t believe me?”
“Not that, I… I believe that I just… never mind.” Wriggling out of his arms, Poppy recalled that they were in his bedroom and that his friend was watching them. “I have things to do.”
Leaving the room and the building was about as much as she could do to save her sanity. Staying in the music room, where Turner couldn’t find her, was the best plan. There was no chance of her eavesdropping on his conversations with beautiful little adorable people if she wasn’t in the house.
Poppy hadn’t minded coasting through life without much of a plan. Before Turner and before Holden’s mess. Until she could free herself from the clutches of the latter, she’d never be able to promise anyone anything, not even herself.
EIGHT
The next day Poppy came to realize that avoiding Turner was so much easier when he was working. Having him on the guest house construction project wasn’t such a bad thing. Except that she kept daydreaming about him sweating in the sun, wearing the tool belt… shirtless. Not that she could speak to the veracity of that last part.
Preston was in meetings with lawyers and PR people who were all arguing about the best way to handle Holden without upsetting him too much.
Poppy hadn’t eaten and dinner was still a couple of hours away. Scampering down the stairs, she was thinking about a snack… maybe something sweet. The sound of the main door to the gallery opening didn’t even register.
The rush of movement and the little voices definitely did.
“It is like a castle!”
Running down the rest of the stairs, Poppy swung around the corner only to stop dead at the sight that awaited.
Emmie twirled round and round in the gallery, Ashlee was chasing after Noah who was running around trying to get hold of a runaway bouncy ball. The kids weren’t alone.
Not only was their mom by the foyer, but their grandmother was too and their aunts… all of them.
“Poppy!” Val said when she spotted her.
The woman started toward her, but it took Poppy a second to actually get with it and go over to join her. The two embraced.
“Valerie,” Poppy said, recovering from the shock. “This is amazing. What are you doing here?”
“Aunt Poppy! Aunt Poppy!”
More than one little person was tugging her dress. She let go of Val to hunker down. The three kids crowded around her.
“You do live in a castle,” Noah said.
Emmie pushed her hair back behind her ears. “Can you make Uncle Turner a prince?”
She took the little one’s hand as Ashlee climbed into her arms. “He’s a prince to us, that’s what matters, isn’t it, honey?”
“Val!”
That was Preston’s call and it came from the opposite end of the gallery. Poppy stood up with Ashlee still clinging to her. Preston came over to hug Val. Everyone else seemed to be hanging by the door.
“Emmie, Noah, come stand with Mommy,” Faye called.
The two little ones did start back toward their mom, though Emmie objected. “Mommy, we want to play in the castle.”
“It’s not a castle, honey, this is where Poppy grew up.”
Just Poppy, no aunt. One look at the tight grouping of the sisters and their grim expressions betrayed the pitch of the mountain in front of her. Climbing it would be no easy feat.
“Hi,” Poppy said, stepping in the direction of the group.
None of their expressions changed. Faye was direct in her glare, just as Poppy would expect from the eldest sister. Charley was looking around, not impressed or unimpressed, pretty inscrutable, which was actually impressive for her. Charley usually wore her heart on her sleeve.
That her friend, or once friend, wouldn’t even look at her stung. Poppy didn’t know how to fix what she’d done. It seemed so wrong now, while at the time it had seemed smart.
“Everyone,” Tiller said, coming from the direction of the library where Preston had appeared from. Two women arrived at the stairwell end of the gallery at the same time. “This is Mrs. Caswell, she’s our housekeeper.” Tiller raised an arm toward the women at the