“No.”
I can tell, even from that one word, that there’s more to the story. Much more. And the sinking in my gut tells me I know when the attack occurred. “When did it happen?”
“A few weeks after you left.”
I hold back from punching the brick. “Damn it. I’m sorry, Poppy.”
“For what? It wasn’t your responsibility to look out for me. You had to take care of your family.” She rubs her brow, a frown marring her face. “After the last couple of weeks, I am beginning to think I’m not cut out for life up here.”
Hell no, we are not taking that conversation train anywhere. I squeeze her tighter as my mother’s truck pulls up. “You absolutely are. And now, you have a personal bodyguard and guide.” I press a kiss to her forehead before helping her into the front seat.
My mother only knows the basics of what happened, but I’ll let Poppy disclose what she feels comfortable telling.
Right now, I’m headed home to stoke the fires—both inside the house and in Poppy’s heart.
I arrive home an hour later, as Poppy’s new fur babies grumble from the backseat. The hormone driven side of me wanted to head home immediately, sinking into a bubble bath next to Poppy. But the responsible side knew that I had to ensure her cabin was safe and her attacker secure behind bars.
Once I verified both, I was free to head home to my girls.
I smile as the golden retriever traverses the snowy path to my front door. I wonder if my mother has taken Poppy on a tour yet, or if Marissa has usurped all her time.
“Hey, we’re home,” I call out from the foyer, setting Paddington and Mr. Whiskers free. For two animals who have lived through their share of upheaval, they certainly take change in stride. Maybe it’s the comfort of companionship—so long as the other one is there, nothing bad can happen. “Poppy? Cupcake?”
“Shh,” my mother whispers, motioning me upstairs. “Marissa had a nightmare and asked Poppy to lie with her. I checked on them fifteen minutes later, and they were both passed out.”
I crack open the door to my daughter’s room, the light from the hallway falling across Marissa and Poppy snuggled together. My heart seizes at the sweetness of the moment, yet another one that my daughter missed out on in her young life.
I pull the door closed, turning to my mother with a smirk. “I guess you’re my date for the evening. Care for a drink?”
We pad to the kitchen and I pull out a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue, pouring us each a glass.
My mother clinks my glass, sipping her whiskey with a smile. “To you. Thank God you got to Poppy in time. I hope that piece of trash is locked up tight.”
“Definitely. Troy told me he’s wanted in Bozeman on a stalking charge. It turns out that the woman he’s been harassing resembles Poppy. When the woman fled Bozeman, he thought she came here. So, he followed. Claims he didn’t realize Poppy wasn’t the same woman until he got her cornered.”
“Sounds like a garbage excuse to me,” my mother scoffs.
“I agree. Although he’s got a list of psychiatric illnesses as long as your arm. He’s been in and out of state hospitals most of his life. Who knows what he was thinking?”
“Regardless of his reasons, he terrified Poppy.”
“I know.” And I hate that fact. “He’s going to be transferred back to the state hospital to await trial. So, he won’t be causing her any further trouble. I checked her cabin before coming back here. Wanted to make sure he hadn’t started there and caused any damage. But everything looked sound.”
My mother shoots me a knowing look. “I know you’re disappointed. I halfway considered waking Poppy up so you two could spend some time, but they looked so peaceful sleeping.”
“Let them sleep.”
“Marissa adores Poppy. I’ve never seen that child take to anyone in such a manner. It’s uncanny. Of course, it makes sense. Marissa told me that Merry has been visiting her dreams. She claims Merry sent Poppy here, to take care of the two of you.”
“Poppy told me that Merry visited her in a dream, but she didn’t know Merry was my wife until she arrived in Yuletide Acres.” I chew the inside of my lip. This story is becoming curiouser by the minute. “Maybe they got together and concocted this tale?”
“When would they have done that? Another possibility, Dylan, is that it’s fate.” My mother holds up her hand, halting any arguments. “I know, you don’t believe in destiny. That doesn’t mean destiny doesn’t believe in you. Poppy was your great love and now she’s here, upstairs, curled up with your daughter. That’s a mighty big coincidence.”
I let the whiskey sit in my mouth as my mother’s words swim around my brain. “You think my dead wife sent Poppy here for Marissa and me?”
My mother nods, finishing off her whiskey. “I do, although Poppy thinks Merry has a warped sense of humor, if that’s the case.”
“Why would she think that?”
“Because your reputation precedes you, even to our newest residents.”
“What reputation?”
“That you’re footloose and fancy-free, at least where relationships are concerned. You’ll never marry again, never have any more children. That reputation.”
“I was always on the up and up with every woman. I never led them on. They knew where I stood.”
“Is that also the case for Poppy?”
Damn her for knowing me so well. “Poppy doesn’t believe in marriage. Or children. She loves them, but she never wanted any. Trust me when I say that me being a single dad is a no go for her.”
My mother waves her hands, no doubt frustrated with my cut and dried take on the situation. “So, that’s it then? Your one true love reappears in your life, but you have rules and those rules are non-negotiable. Dylan, I adore you, but you are being so damn stubborn. Just allow the possibility that fate might have something in store for you. Something grand. You deserve grand, Dylan.”
“I agree with your Mom.”
I turn toward the kitchen door, where Poppy stands, looking like a perfect blend of adorable and lip-biting sexy in a short robe. The woman always had remarkable stems. Some things never change. “Were we too loud? We didn’t mean to wake you.”
She fiddles with the door handle, avoiding my gaze. “I didn’t mean to disturb your conversation. I wasn’t certain where I should sleep tonight.”
“I thought you were sleeping with Marissa.”
“I was, but two furry bodyguards have usurped my position.”
“Come in. Have a drink with us.” I motion her into the room, pouring a glass of whiskey and sliding it across the kitchen island. “I spoke with Troy. Your assailant is being transferred back to the state hospital. He has a history of mental illness.”
Poppy releases a slow exhalation, and I watch some of the trepidation slide from her visage. “So, I’m safe?”
I nod, grasping her slight fingers. “I’m going to make sure of it. As long as you’re here, you’re safe. I’ll protect you.”
My mother gives Poppy a hug round the shoulders, smoothing back a few stubborn strands of hair from her face. “Are you feeling any better?”