I’m winning back the woman I love, come hell or high water.
Now that Troy is willing to step aside, I only have to contend with Poppy.
I think dealing with Troy will be far easier than convincing Poppy I’m not a total man whore. Especially after the disastrous blow-up last night.
I walk into the shooting area, my breath catching at the sight of her. Poppy’s back is turned to me as she bends over, giving me an up close and personal view of that delectable ass. Ten years ago, she was so skinny that her ass was as flat as the rest of her.
Now? Hot damn, what I’d give to peel off those jeans and lick every inch of her body.
I drift closer, unable to hold back from tracing the small exposed sliver of skin between her shirt and jeans. Susan’s words echo in my head. I do need to convince her of the reasons to still love me. I’ve given her a plethora of reasons to run away. “Good morning, Sunshine. Ready to start shooting?” I mean it as a joke but judging by the scowl crossing my beautiful woman’s face when she turns, I might be the intended target.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Troy?”
“I told him that I would take his place.”
“So it wasn’t the power tools. You’re finishing me off with a gun. That makes sense.”
I crowd her space, pressing her slight frame to the wall. I cage her in, my forearms on either side of her head, our faces mere inches apart. “You know, you keep mentioning me finishing you off. I think you secretly like the idea. God knows I’m all for it.”
A muscle twitches in Poppy’s jaw as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Is that what you think?”
“I do.”
She leans in, our lips almost touching. “Then, you’d be wrong.” With lightning reflexes, she ducks under my arm, grabbing her rifle.
For a brief second, I wonder if she might shoot me. I can’t say I don’t deserve it. Still, Poppy never tended toward violence.
With a sigh, she slings the rifle bag over one shoulder. Looks like I’ll live to face another day. “Forget it. I’ll figure it out on my own. That’s why God invented the internet.”
I grab her wrist, pulling her against me. “Poppy, wait. I was trying to lighten the mood.”
“After the way you’ve treated me? Now, you want to be friends?”
“I don’t want to be friends.”
Poppy releases a strangled laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, I got that.”
“What I mean—”
But she isn’t letting me finish. With an outstretched finger and her sternest expression, she comes at me. “Why do you hate me?”
“I love you, Poppy. I’m completely and totally in love with you.”
“Oh, bull. You don’t love me. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have called another woman to the bar when we were hanging out. Or, was I the third wheel? I can’t quite figure out the order. Is it first come, first serve?”
Ouch. I open my mouth to retort, but Poppy is nowhere near finished.
“Then you decide to take Troy’s place? Shouldn’t I have a say in who I spend my time with?” She moves in closer, our bodies nearly touching. “Who I’m intimate with? Or does all that require mayoral approval?”
My blood boils at the mention of her and Troy together. “You want to be with Troy? Fine, go ahead. My apologies for thinking you meant what you said last night.” I turn on my heel, stalking toward the door.
“I don’t want to be with Troy, although he’s a far kinder man than you. At least where I’m concerned. Don’t forget, I’m also selective about who is allowed into my bed. Unlike you.”
I whirl back to face her, my fists balled at my side. The fury is bubbling out of every pore, but I know deep down that I deserve every barb she’s hurling at me.
“I didn’t ask Gayle to meet me because I wanted to be with her. I overhead Troy mention the two of you going to the bar last night.”
“So what?”
“I got pissed. I…I…”
“You what, Dylan?”
“I wanted to make you jealous.”
“You did. It was very hard to see another woman approach you, knowing that you two are intimate. But then I realized that this isn’t a game. This is my heart and it’s been battered enough by you, Dylan.” She swipes at the tears dripping from her huge hazel eyes, and it takes everything in me not to pull her close. “What we had was magical. But it was ten years ago. You moved on. Literally. You never came back and there was a reason for it.”
“I came back, Poppy.”
“A year later, Dylan,” she bellows, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “How long was I supposed to wait? To hope?” She sniffles, shaking her head. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.”
“It does. You’re here. Of all the towns in the world, you’re here. Poppy, that means something.”
She shrugs. “We don’t know that it means anything. It’s likely just a coincidence.”
“Like hell it is. It means that you’re my girl, no one else’s.”
“If I was your girl, you wouldn’t have invited your bed buddy to the bar last night. If I was your girl, you wouldn’t have wanted to hurt me like that.”
“I made a mistake. A stupid mistake.”
“Which time? You’re racking them up, Dylan. Forget it. I’m not doing this. It isn’t healthy for either of us.”
She turns away, taking a few steps toward the door.
“Poppy, don’t walk away from me.”
“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”
I grab her to me, feeling the shivers course through her body. Course through my own. I forgot I could feel this way. I forgot everything, but one touch from Poppy brings it all flooding back. “You will always be my girl. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed or how many women I’ve slept with to try to forget you. Forget how you made me feel.”
“Let me go,” Poppy snaps, twisting in my grasp.
Instead of freeing her, I grasp her tighter, pulling her flush against my body. God help me, I miss her. It feels like forever and yet only a moment since I held her. Since she begged me to never let her go.
I never will again.
But Poppy has ten years of fight in her, and she isn’t yielding. “I’m not your girl. I haven’t been your girl since the day you left me. Remember?”
“I’m working on that.”
“By being an asshole? Word of advice, D. Try harder.”
My last bit of patience snaps as my hands slide up to cup her face. “How’s this, then?”
I swallow her arguments, not bothering to seek permission before I capture her mouth. Backing her to the wall, I tangle my fingers in her hair, forcing her to take every ounce of the passion I’ve saved for her. Only for her.
She pushes against me, breaking us apart in the heat of the moment. She stands there—cheeks flushed, breath coming in pants, chest heaving—and glowers in my direction. “How dare you.”
“I dare.” It’s a throwback to our initial meeting, when I showed her in no uncertain terms that she belonged to me. “You are mine, Poppy, and I’m taking back what belongs to me.”