We look like a family.
But, Poppy has always been a free spirit. Settling down was never in the cards, and I can’t be sure she’s willing to play a new hand just because I gave her back bending orgasms.
My dick hardens at the thought of Poppy’s naked body, and I shift to adjust myself. The woman is right—with her, I’m insatiable. I figure if I make love to her every day for the next hundred years, we might be halfway caught up. I hope she’s prepared, because I can barely contain myself and all she’s doing is drinking coffee. That, and sending me a knowing glance every few seconds.
She knows what she does to me, and she’s relishing every moment. I guarantee one thing—I’ll be relishing every inch of her again before lunch.
Chapter 13
Poppy
Nothing like a night of amazing lovemaking to put you in the holiday spirit, I muse as I teeter on the rickety wooden ladder, hanging another sprig of mistletoe.
“What did I say about getting up on that ladder?”
I glance down, a smile breaking across my face at Dylan’s concerned scowl. “You should know by now that I’m nothing if not difficult.”
“Understatement of the century. Are you going to come down or do I have to come fetch you?”
I descend the steps, offering him a chaste peck on the cheek. “I do appreciate your concern. What can I do for you, Mr. West?”
Dylan grabs my hips, pressing me against him, and I know exactly what this sexy man has in mind. “Mr. West, huh? That’s not what you were calling me last night.”
I turn in his arms, my gaze skittering to the people walking past the window. With an embarrassed laugh, I take a step back, away from the circle of his arms.
His gaze narrows, a grimace pursing his lips. “Everything okay?”
Time to play it off. “Absolutely. Better than. I’m just busy trying to get the store to rights.”
“I can help, and my payment is minimal.”
“What’s your payment?”
He grabs me back to him, pressing his lips to mine. “Unlimited kisses, whenever and wherever I want them.”
“Dylan,” I push against his grip, but he remains strong. “We can’t do this here.”
“Do what? I can’t kiss you? Why?”
“Someone might see us.”
The change in the man is palpable, as his hands drop to his side and he releases a huff of frustration. “My apologies. I didn’t realize you were keeping your options open. I’ll get going, then.”
My jaw slackens at the realization that he has completely misunderstood my meaning. I grab his arm, stopping his movement. “That’s not what I mean, D.”
“Then what do you mean? Why can’t I kiss you? Who cares if someone sees us?”
“You’re the most important man in town. You are Dylan West, the mayor, for God’s sake. There are people out there who are going to judge you for our relationship. I don’t want anyone thinking less of you because you’re with…me.”
He cups my face, tangling his fingers in my hair and forcing me to meet his stern gaze. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t give a crap what anyone has to say about you and me. You are beautiful and smart and kind and I love you. If someone has a problem with that, they can speak to me.”
My heart wants to explode at his admission, and I wipe away a stray tear. “When you put it like that, I’m more than willing to oblige you with any number of kisses—”
The bells above the door jingle, and our gazes turn toward my new client, Mrs. Jones, a few minutes early for her appointment. Her brows raise at our intimate embrace, but she looks more surprised than perturbed. “I know I’m early. Should I come back?”
“No, you’re right on time. Mr. West was just helping me with some decorations.”
I can tell from my client’s face that she doesn’t believe my lie either. “He’s such a good man. We’re lucky to have him as mayor. We always hoped he would find someone to share his life. I’m so glad he has.”
Oh, dear Lord, she did not just go there. Dylan may have admitted he still loves me, but I know his rule. No marriage or children. Her announcement may send him skittering in the opposite direction. “We’re very old friends. It was a complete coincidence that we reconnected here in Yuletide Acres.”
Dylan, for his part, seems unflustered by the conversation. Pulling his keys from his pocket, he smiles at the woman and gives me a peck on the cheek. “Some might say it’s destiny. Have a good day, ladies.”
I smile, turning the woman in the direction of the treatment rooms.
“Hey, Poppy,” Dylan calls from the door.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll see you later.”
“Sure thing.”
“What do you want for dinner, Sunshine?”
My jaw slackens, both at his pointed question and the term of endearment. Thankfully, I recover quickly. “I have clients until seven, so I’ll just grab something here.”
“Nah, I’ll think of something. Dinner will be waiting for you.” With that last statement, he waves and strolls out the door.
“He’s quite the catch. Every woman has their eye on him, even the married ones. Especially the married ones,” Mrs. Jones chuckles.
“I can’t blame them.”
“The rumor was that he’d sworn off marriage and relationships. I’m glad to see that isn’t the case.”
Her words knock down my high. “No, it is the case. I just understand and respect those boundaries. What other choice do I have?” With a final sigh, I lead her into the back, the truth of the situation weighing on me like a ton of bricks.
“How do some people unpack in a day? I swear, it looks like a bomb has gone off in here,” I mutter, staring at the myriad of boxes and wrapping paper littering the floor. Thankfully, there are enough spare rooms that the carnage is hidden from public view.
The bells peal above the door. Damn, I forgot to lock the door. “Just a second. I apologize, we’re closed.”
When I poke through the curtain, I smile. There, with Paddington on a leash, stands Marissa, her father a few feet behind her.
“Well, hello. Aren’t you two—three—a surprise?”
“It’s dinnertime. Are you hungry?”
I nod, tossing a biscuit in Paddington’s direction. “I’m starving. Did you eat?”
Marissa shakes her head. “We came to get you.”
“Oh.” I stand, my face scrunched in confusion. “I was going back to the cabin tonight.”
“No, you’re not,” Dylan interjects, flipping the door to locked. “You’re safer here in town. With us.”
“I appreciate that, but I hate to be an imposition.”
“You’re not. See? All settled.” Dylan closes the distance between us, his mouth slanting over mine to steal a kiss.
“Did you make your Christmas list, Poppy?” Marissa chimes in.
“No, I can’t say that I have. Did you?”
Marissa nods, pulling it from her pocket and handing it to me. “You think Santa can fill all those wishes?”