I glance up from my paperwork, eyes narrowing. “Wait just a damn minute. We are not celebrating some heathen holiday.”
Susan and Troy exchange glances, likely shocked by my stringent stance. After all, I’m the likable, affable mayor who is up for just about anything.
Except Poppy Mills. I’m not prepared, in any way, for that woman. My only defense is to freeze her out, letting her know that the Montana cold isn’t her biggest concern.
Is it a dick move? Yes. Do I know of any other options? Aside from ripping off her clothes and sinking inside her, none come to mind.
But I know that’s not the real reason. The worst idea that I refuse to give room to root is that no matter how much I want Poppy, she won’t want me. Not anymore. I’m not diving into a pool of unrequited love.
“I think it’s a lovely idea,” Susan argues, pursing her lips in my direction. “Besides, it would teach people about the history of their town.”
“Poppy just got here. Now she wants to change everything? Who does she think she is?”
“Apparently someone who got on the wrong side of you, Mr. West. What is your deal?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired. Can we talk about something else?”
Right on cue, Mr. Alder, the local realtor, strolls over, clapping Troy on the shoulder. “I have a favor to ask, Sheriff.”
“Shoot,” Troy replies.
Mr. Alder chuckles. “Actually, that’s the favor. I just rented the old Hardwick cabin to a tiny little woman, no bigger than a minute.”
“You rented the cabin to Poppy? It’s way the hell out there. The road isn’t even paved. There are all kinds of wildlife in those woods and Poppy has never handled a gun.” I blurt this bevy of information, realizing my error a second too late.
All eyes swing to me. Susan smirks, hiding a laugh behind her hand. So much for keeping my history with Poppy under wraps.
“She hasn’t, but she was insistent on taking the cabin. For some reason, she didn’t want to stay in town.” Mr. Alder shrugs, although I notice him throwing me the stink eye. “I implored her to buy a rifle and learn how to shoot. I thought you wouldn’t mind helping her, Sheriff.”
“A gorgeous woman like that? I’ll help her all damn day. No worries, Mr. Alder. I’ll make sure the little lady is safe.”
Like hell he will. “I’ll take care of it,” I grumble.
“I can handle it, Dylan. It’s obvious you don’t like her,” Troy retorts, clapping my arm. “Me, on the other hand? I’m all too excited to get to know her better.”
“I said, I’ll take care of it.” Now I’m seething—internally and externally.
“Well,” Mr. Alder states, his gaze swinging between me and Troy, “I’m sure one of you will. I just want Ms. Mills safe.” He turns on his heel, making a beeline for the exit.
Smart move, Mr. Alder.
Troy chews his cheek, shooting me a grin. “I think someone could use a drink. What do you say, Mayor?”
“Not tonight, Troy. Marissa has a school project I have to help her finish.” It’s a lie, but at least now I won’t have to listen to my friend wax on about how he plans to lure Poppy into his bed. I’m really not in the mood for a knockdown, drag out brawl with my lifelong buddy. But over Poppy, I’ll make an exception.
I wave him off, feeling Susan’s blue gaze on me. “What, Susan?”
“Nothing, Dylan. It’s just the first time I’ve ever seen you jealous.”
“What am I jealous of?” Please let me be convincing.
“Anyone moving in on your girl.”
“Poppy is not my girl.”
“Sure, she isn’t. I’m done for the evening, so I’ll see you tomorrow.” She grabs her jacket, a smile on her face. “You know, Poppy got a lot of deliveries today. You might want to stop by and make sure she doesn’t need any help with the heavy lifting. Of course, I could always let Troy know. He seems all too eager to fill any vacancies.”
I hate how well this woman knows me. “I’ll stop by.”
“Good man.”
I’m back in my Jeep ten minutes later, drawn to Poppy’s door like a hound dog that has caught a scent. I can use the excuse that I’m being neighborly. This is what neighbors do, right? I flip down the mirror, shaking my head at my reflection.
Get it together, man. It’s just the shock of seeing her after all these years. That’s it. That’s all it was.
With a final glance, I pop out of the Jeep, pulling open the door to her store.
There, standing in the middle of umpteen million boxes, is Poppy. She’s worked up a bit of a sweat, her skin glistening from the exertion. Her long hair is pulled into a messy bun and she’s not wearing a speck of makeup. But it’s her outfit—yoga pants and a tank top accentuating her figure that knocks my world off kilter.
The woman did not look that good ten years ago. Oh, she looked good, but God in heaven, she didn’t look this good.
Her eyes widen when she sees me, but this time, she doesn’t smile. I can’t say I blame her. I’ve known great whites with friendlier dispositions than mine during our last meeting. “Hi, there.”
“I heard you needed some help.” So much for my theory. The feelings are even more palpable this time around.
“She does, which is why I’m here.” Troy steps from behind the curtain, his hands resting on his hips and a knowing smirk on his face. “I’ll take care of this, Dylan. Don’t you have to help Marissa with a school project?”
I want to punch him. I don’t care that we’ve been friends for decades. I want to knock that smirk off his face. And keep him the hell away from Poppy.
“I have some time.” I force a smile, grasping Poppy by the elbow and leading her to a darkened corner. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You certainly didn’t waste any time.” Just like that, I place myself squarely back into asshole territory. What is my issue?
“With unpacking? Don’t most people unpack their belongings when they move?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant,” she grounds out, her voice low and intense. Her hazel eyes harden as she jerks her arm from my grasp. “I’m fine, Mr. West.”
Seriously? We’re playing that angle? “Dylan,” I grit out.
“Does it make a difference? It seems no matter what I call you, it’s the wrong thing. I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”
I grab her arm, pulling her close to my side. “I can stay and help.”
She shakes her head, but I’m not sure whether it’s from exasperation, frustration or a bit of both. “Go take care of Marissa.”
That’s my cue, but I’m ignoring it. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’m famished, actually. My tea from earlier is long gone.”
“That’s why I’m taking her to the diner. Some good old home cooking.” Troy saunters over, leaning against the wall behind Poppy.
All I know is the man needs to put some distance between them before I make him move. “It’s not home cooking at the greasy spoon.”