giggles that followed in his wake.
When he reached Poppy’s shop, he took a moment and slipped on his T-shirt, though considering the rest of him was grubby and dirty, it wasn’t much of an improvement. He pushed on the door and stepped inside Bella & Hooch.
The place had a lot of inventory and wasn’t that big, but it would win awards for organization. Impressed, he took a moment to look around properly, since the last time he’d been here, he’d been distracted by her obvious dislike and need to be away from him.
The stuff Poppy carried in the boutique was bohemian, eclectic, current, and tasteful. He recognized a few of the décor pieces from Cam and Blue’s place. He inspected a coat of arms on the wall, next to a display of voodoo dolls, all the while keeping an eye out for her. So far, there wasn’t any sign of Poppy. Figuring she was in the back, he took a moment to glance through a rack of eccentric cards while he contemplated walking back there. He was just about to do that when he heard her voice and watched, unobserved, as she appeared from a back room with a short round man at her heels.
“Those aren’t the items I ordered.” Poppy wore a light-blue halter dress that floated around her body like a cloud. The color made her hair burn with copper highlights and her sun-kissed skin gleam. Bangles covered her wrists, and large hoop earrings nearly touched her shoulders. “I need to return them, George. Do you think that will be a problem? Or should I call the supplier first?”
“That should be fine.” The man nodded and started talking about some Star Trek show while Poppy wrote a note and taped it to a plain brown box on the sales counter. She handed it to him, and they exchanged a few more pleasantries before George left, leaving Poppy alone with Boone—though she didn’t know it yet.
He stepped out from behind the card rack, and when she glanced his way, an electric current twisted through his body. It hit him hard in the chest, and, surprised at the intensity of it, he took a moment and cleared this throat before approaching the wary woman behind the counter.
Boone stopped a few inches from her and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jean shorts, because damn if he could do what he wanted to with them—which was wrap his fingers in all that hair and kiss her into tomorrow.
“Hey,” he said eventually, because he needed to say something to fill the awkward silence between them. “I called you a few times.” Lame, he thought. So damn lame.
“I know.”
“Your phone broken?”
Poppy opened her mouth to say something, but waited a heartbeat before actually speaking. “I’ve been busy.”
“Busy.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yep,” she shot back, lifting that delicate chin of hers in a way that screamed defiance.
“Too busy in general, or just too busy to deal with me?”
She glanced toward the door. Boone got the impression she was praying to every god she knew that someone would walk inside and steal her away from him. He decided the best play here was a strong offense. He took that last step that brought him flush to the counter and leaned his elbows onto it. He was now so close to Poppy, he could smell that light airy scent from her hair and see the flecks of gold in her eyes, the faint smudge of purple on her cheekbone from the fading bruise. There was a light scar that ran from her eyebrow up to her temple that he wondered about, and he noted the pulse at the base of her neck, the way her lips were parted. She was nervous.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice low, a hint of whiskey coating the words. His heart sped up at the memory of the sounds she’d made in the lake when he was buried deep inside her.
“I think we should talk about what happened. Don’t you?”
“No.” Her reply was quick and sharp. “We don’t need to do anything, because it’s not going to happen again.” She exhaled, shaking her head. “Ever.”
Her chest rose and fell; her pupils were large and dilated. She had a delicious mouth, and he planned on tasting it again.
“I’m pretty sure it will,” he replied slowly. Her chin jutted up at that, and her lips thinned. Score one for Boone. “Happen again,” he continued, inching a bit closer.
“You’re