it again, pinching up higher, dangerously close to the Jolly Green Giant’s beanstalk zone and reminding him that I fight dirty. “Isn’t that right, babe? We wouldn’t miss Caylee’s wedding for anything in the world.”
As the words pop out of my mouth, Connor’s glare turns up to level eleven. Huh, who would’ve thought he had more intensity than the glares he’s already given me? Certainly not me, but the proof is right there in his gaze.
Uh-oh.
I might be in real trouble now.
Chapter 9
Connor
If looks could kill, I would murder Poppy where she sits at my family’s dining room table. In fact, like my coffee mug suggests, I’m thinking of at least seven ways to do it right here, right now. I could probably bury her curvy, sexy little body out back in the treed part of my family’s property and no one would be the wiser.
Not that I’ve ever done that. I might be a thief, a bastard, and a lying shit who walks out on everyone and everything, but I’m not a murderer.
But she’s tempting me. In multiple ways, which scares the hell out of me because no matter how hard I try, I cannot control or predict this woman. All I can do is adapt on the fly and see if it leads to disaster or not.
This time, though, as much as it pisses me off, it seems to be the right thing to say because Caylee shouts and claps, “Oh, my gosh! Thank you so much, Poppy! And you too, Connor! It means so much to me!”
She claps again, and I can see how happy she is. I’m not exactly close to Caylee these days, but once upon a time, we were thick as thieves. No pun intended. And for some reason, it means something to her that I’m there. Even if she doesn’t need an asshole like me fucking up her happy day.
“Excuse us for a minute,” I tell the table before I drag Poppy into the hallway. She stumbles after me, trying to keep up with my long strides in her heels. I whirl, backing her into a wall and looming over her. Getting right in her face, I demand, “What the fuck was that?”
Her eyes cut back to the dining room, where I’m guessing they’re listening closely to every word we say. But I’m doing this on purpose. I’m being the asshole so that we can end all of this now before someone gets even more hurt. When her eyes return to mine, they’re flashing with warning as she whispers, “It’s your sister’s wedding. Did you see how happy she is? You have to go.”
“No. I don’t. I don’t have to do anything,” I argue, not bothering to keep my voice down. I want them to hear me. It’ll suck, of course. But it’s better that way. For us all, Caylee especially. As much as I hate to hurt her, she needs to know that she can’t count on me, not for this. I stand up straight, stubbornly unwilling to debate something that’s not even an option.
“Connor—” Poppy pleads quietly, and I fight to let it roll off my back.
I can’t let it develop. Not what she’s doing. Not what she’s awakening inside me. I can’t have it. It’s not meant for people like me.
Trying to keep ahold of what’s threatening to rise inside me, I interrupt whatever puppy dog-eyed plea she’s about to unleash. Quietly this time, I remind her, “One day. Just one day as my fiancée. Dinner, that was all I agreed to, and that was only after you stepped in where you weren’t wanted.”
She flinches, and regret for my words is bitter on my tongue. I don’t want to cause her pain . . . and for some reason I don’t want to examine too closely, Poppy’s pain turns me away from the path I know I should take, hurting her now to save her long-term devastation. “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s fine. I’m used to it,” she says, ducking her head down. Suddenly, the fiery, mouthy spitfire is gone, replaced with someone small and unsure.
What . . . what’s happened to her? Did I do that?
“Poppy,” I try, leaning down closer, but she ducks even farther away from me. “Pops, look at me.”
I don’t even realize I’m doing it until my fingers touch the soft skin of her jaw, guiding her chin up and her eyes to mine. My thumb brushes back and forth, enjoying the silky