dress she wore. White cotton eyelet, it was sleeveless and clung to her breasts before flaring out into an A-line that showed a lot of leg.
She looked good. Poppy took a step back. Damn good, in fact, and the thought that she’d been considering staying home from the dance because she was scared of running into Boone made her angry. After LA, she’d told herself that no one would ever control her again. No one would pull her strings or tell her what to do, how to dress and act. And yet wasn’t that exactly what she’d done to herself since she’d been back?
She was sick of hiding. Sick of the past and its hold on her. She wanted to go the stupid dance and feel the night air on her skin. Listen to the band play Lynyrd Skynyrd and Johnny Cash and dance until her feet hurt. She wanted to feel the breeze lift her hair and smell summer in the wind. God, she didn’t want to be alone anymore.
“Boone can suck it,” she whispered, grabbing her purse before sending a message to Blue.
Meet you there.
It was time she started living again and left the shadows behind. She was done standing still. Done avoiding men and the possibility of a relationship. And maybe Boone had been the catalyst for the abrupt turnaround in her outlook, but Poppy didn’t think about it. She told herself that Boone meant nothing to her, same as she’d meant nothing to him all those years ago. She’d met him face-to-face, and the world hadn’t fallen apart. She hadn’t fallen apart. Even though there was still a tangle of stuff between them, in all fairness, it was her baggage and not his. She was grown up enough to put it where it belonged. In the past.
Feeling lighter than she’d felt in years, Poppy locked up her mother’s place and headed out into the night. Downtown was less than fifteen minutes away on foot, and she enjoyed the walk, smiling to herself when she passed a group of boys loitering near the park. They looked no older than sixteen or so, and one of them gave a whistle, while another jabbed him in the chest when she looked their way.
“She’s hot,” the boy said, and Poppy giggled.
By the time she made it downtown, there was a line to get in to the roped-off area. She chatted with some folks she knew from her shop. New to Crystal Lake, they were excited for the big night, and Poppy promised them it would live up to their expectations.
Hoyt Jones, one of the local firemen, took her entrance fee and stamped her inner wrist, winking as she sailed past him. She’d known him since first grade, when he sat down beside her clutching his blue Sesame Street lunch box.
“Sure wish I hadn’t volunteered,” he said with a grin.
“Why’s that?” she asked lightly, looking at him over her shoulder.
“’Cause I’d take you for a spin around the dance floor.”
Poppy grinned. “It’s early yet, Hoyt.”
The street was packed, and she threaded her way through a throng of folks, scanning the area, looking for Blue and Ruby Blackwell, Wyatt’s wife. Their plan had been to meet the boys, and Poppy wasn’t sure if the boys included Boone. She’d never asked, and Blue hadn’t volunteered.
She spied Blue’s blonde head near the picnic tables to the right of the stage and twisted her body to slide by a group of men who stood in front of them. All of them were strangers except Gabe Sanders, a local she’d known her entire life. Recently divorced, he’d gained quite the reputation as not only a love-’em-and leave-’em kind of guy, but one who imbibed spirits a little too much. He’d been married right out of high school, and Poppy wasn’t one to judge—she supposed he was making up for lost time. But he wasn’t a man she was interested in, so when he smiled at her, she gave a polite wave and made to move by.
“Hey there,” he said, placing his hand on her arm. “Poppy Fairbanks. Where the hell have you been hiding all that?” His voice was loud, the words carried by a nasty slur, and, aware that several pairs of eyes had shifted their way, Poppy decided a soft approach was best. She hated scenes.
“Gabe, can I have my arm back?” she asked softly, glancing at the men he was with. Some looked uncomfortable and looked the other way, while a few of