obviously, I haven’t. I know I have issues letting go, but I think I deserve an explanation. Even after all this time. You owe me at least that.”
Boone blew out a long breath and took a step back. It seemed as if he’d reached the point where he either dove in or ran for the hills. As he gazed down into Poppy’s face, he realized running wasn’t an option. Not anymore. It was a sobering thought.
“You really want to get into this now?” he asked roughly.
“No, I’d rather be counting inventory, to be honest. But I don’t understand how we went from there to here. I don’t understand how—”
“I called you, Poppy. At least once a week right up until Thanksgiving. I came home and stopped by your place, but no one answered the door, even though I saw someone in the window.”
“What?” She frowned in confusion.
The look on her face told him everything. “I left a bunch of messages with your mother. You didn’t get them?”
“No,” she replied slowly before meeting his gaze once more. “But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change what you did and how I felt. How I still feel. It wasn’t just a crush. At least not for me.”
“You wouldn’t be upset if I meant nothing. There’s something here. What happened at the lake is because of it.”
“It was just sex, Boone. Nothing more.”
“You’re not that girl, Poppy.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Damn, but he was screwing this up. Now he could add insulted to the list of things he’d done to her. Boone tipped his head and stared up at the ceiling for a couple of seconds. One of the reasons Boone exceled at football or hockey or any game, really, was because he had an uncanny ability to read the field. To anticipate. To know what the next move would be and how to react. Right now, his next move was retreat. Poppy needed space, and he needed to regroup.
“Look, I’m getting this all wrong.”
“That’s about the first smart thing to come out of your mouth.”
The bell above the door jingled just then, but neither one of them looked toward the entrance. Boone was too caught up in her green eyes and a past he’d tried his damnedest to forget.
“Poppy, I—”
“Boone, you’re about the last person I expected to see here. What are you doing behind the counter?”
He turned at the sound of his mother’s voice, surprised to see her and momentarily at a loss.
“Are you okay?” she asked slowly, a small frown falling across her forehead.
“Poppy and I were just talking about old times.”
She smiled. “And here I thought you did all your catching up at the Blackwells’.” She gave him a pointed look. “You look like you need a shower.”
“Yeah.” A cold one, he thought. Boone looked at Poppy, but she avoided his gaze. He stepped out from behind the counter and approached his mother.
She kissed him on the cheek, but before he could pull away, she whispered, “Don’t bully her. It won’t end well.” His mother released Boone with a smile and walked past him. Dumbfounded, Boone turned and stared after her as the two women quickly fell into a conversation about Turkish tea towels.
“I’m heading out,” he said.
His mother waved absently.
Poppy ignored him.
Huh. It seemed as if he’d been dismissed. Boone pushed out of the store and put on his aviators. The late-afternoon sun was still bright, and the heat was the kind that stuck to skin. He headed for his truck and, minutes later, pointed it toward the Coach House. Hopefully, the guys would take his mind off Poppy Fairbanks and their tangled past.
A nice thought, but a guy could hope.
Chapter Eleven
Mabel greeted Poppy when she walked through the front door of her home the same way she did every single time—as if Poppy had been gone for months. It was adorable, and if she weren’t so damn distracted, she would have appreciated it with all her heart. But as it was, her mind was on other things…
Such as a man who’d kissed her until her head had spun so bad, it felt like she was coming apart. God, the man could kiss. It really wasn’t fair.
“Hey, girl,” she murmured, ruffling the fur ball on the head before letting her out back. While Mabel ran around the yard and took care of business, Poppy headed straight for the wine rack and grabbed a bottle of merlot, along with a bag of potato chips and a hunk