The bell jingled over the door, and Benji turned, eyes wide, that big open smile lighting up his entire face. “Daddy!” The boy ran like a cheetah, darting around several displays and disappearing from Poppy’s line of sight. She glanced at the clock on the wall, completely miffed with Christy, and stepped out from behind the counter.
And that was when her world continued its downward spiral and her day officially fell into the toilet. Benji had been scooped up into the arms of the one man in Crystal Lake she’d been avoiding for months.
Boone Avery.
He stood just inside her boutique, smiling at his son. Yep. All six foot four inches of him. Dressed casually in cargo shorts and a plain white T-shirt, his wide shoulders, long legs, and thick head of dark hair were hard to miss. His profile could have been carved by Michelangelo himself. He set Benji down and gestured with his big hands, smiling down at his son in a way that still got to her.
After all this time. Dammit.
“Seriously?” she muttered to herself. “Not fair.” She smoothed out an errant auburn curl that kept tweaking at her nose. Poppy remembered those hands like it was yesterday—which was sad, really, considering she’d last felt them when she was sixteen. Her heated cheeks and rapid breaths told the story.
“Are you okay?”
“What?” She tore her gaze from Boone and looked down at his son, who had performed some kind of ninja move and had moved to stand inches from her while she’d been ogling his dad.
“You have a funny look on your face.” He scratched at his stomach. “My nana gets that look sometimes, and then she cries.” He shook his head. “I don’t like crying. It makes me sad.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to cry.”
Aware that Boone had followed his son and stood a few paces behind him, she snuck a covert glance his way, relieved to see he was busy looking at a display of cards on the rack, his brow furrowed in concentration as he grabbed a few to read.
Poppy stepped back even more, glad she’d left the six-foot pampas grass in a vase at the edge of the counter. Maybe she’d be lucky and Boone would call his son over, and the two of them would leave and forget they’d ever set foot inside Bella & Hooch.
“Daddy, the lady who let me pee got punched in the face.”
Shit. Poppy inhaled sharply, her stomach in knots.
“What?” Boone frowned and yanked up his head, and his eyes found hers instantly. It didn’t take but a second, and she saw the moment he recognized her. His eyes widened, and their deep blue depths seemed to shimmer. A slow smile touched his mouth, there and gone just as quick.
A heartbeat passed…maybe two, and his eyes darkened to cobalt, a question hanging between them.
In that moment, Poppy figured out a few things.
One. Boone Avery was like fine wine—age only made him more attractive. And when a guy already had a leg up in that department? Totally unfair.
Two. She’d had good reason to avoid the man for the last few months, because all it took was one look, and she felt like that sixteen-year-old girl, the one whose heart he’d broken. And along with that heartbreak, there was something else. It was that something else she didn’t want to think about.
And three. He wasn’t walking out the door. Not this time. In fact, he was coming her way.
Boone took the last few steps that brought him into her orbit and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his shorts. Those big hands. Quarterback hands. He cleared his throat and took a moment to look her over, and by the time he reached her eyes again, she had a bit of control left.
“Hey,” he said, his voice deep and husky, washing over her like warm water. “I…” He blew out a breath and smiled. “It’s been a long time.”
“I heard you were back.” Her voice was cool and crisp, and inside, Poppy high-fived herself. It was a great time for her acting skills to kick in.
“Um, yeah.” He reached one hand back behind his head, enough of a stretch to lift his shirt and expose a good expanse of taut, tanned skin. “It’s been a few months. I thought I’d run into you at the Memorial Day shindig out at Cam Booker’s place.”
“I was busy, so…” Busy avoiding the hell out of Boone Avery. Poppy had come up with every excuse in the book not to go to her friend Blue’s place for her and Cam’s big barbecue to kick off the summer. In the end, the only way she could get out of it was to tell Blue everything. After that, Blue promised not to like Boone Avery, and so far, she’d held up her end of the bargain.
Benjamin poked his head between them and sniffled a bit, rubbing under his glasses. “You look weird, Daddy.”
Spell broken, Boone took a step back, though he frowned a bit. “Did someone hit you?”
“No.” Poppy didn’t elaborate, even though it would have been the polite thing to do. She wanted him gone. She wanted this day to end. She wanted—
The doorbell jangled yet again, and this time, it was her very late, oh-so-fired, part-time helper Christy. “Poppy, oh my God, there was an accident at the corner of Main and Whitmore, and I’m so sorry I’m late, because I know you have to go to your mom’s, and…” Christy nearly tripped over her feet. She stood a few feet away, staring at Boone like he was the Second Coming…or Brad Pitt.
“You’re Boone Avery.”
He nodded and smiled.
“Oh my God.” She turned to Poppy. “It’s Boone Avery.”
Poppy had had enough. She grabbed her purse from the counter and sailed past Boone and Christy, though she paused a second. “It was nice to meet you, Benji. Keep the gargoyle safe, okay? And Christy? Lock up by three this afternoon.”
Poppy pushed open the door and took the path that led behind her store, where her bike was parked. She grabbed her helmet, yanked it onto her head, did up the strap, and then jumped on, pedaling as if the hounds of hell were on her heels, though she supposed they were.
Boone Avery had been her hell back in the day. For a few weeks that fateful summer, she’d been the happiest she’d ever been. She’d given him her love, her virginity, and then he’d left Crystal Lake without a word. Not. One. Word.
Now he was back, and he’d awakened something in her that she thought was long dead. Want. Need. Desire. After LA, after what happened, it was a cruel twist of fate that he was the one to make her feel alive again. Nerves a jumbled mess, she pedaled like a crazy person. She was mad. At the world. At Boone Avery. Most of all, at herself. She’d made a vow to hate him until the end of her days, and all it took was one look to annihilate that vow. Seriously.
This wasn’t acceptable. What the hell was she going to do about it?
Chapter Two
Boone walked into his mother’s house a few steps behind his son. It was late afternoon, and the sun still shone bright and hot, though in the distance, storm clouds were brewing, and he had a feeling the big shindig downtown would be washed out before it began.
He was fine with that. It was an excuse to bow out without looking like an asshole. He wasn’t fond of all the social crap that a town like Crystal Lake thrived on. Mostly because he was the object of a lot of speculation and gossip, and he’d rather avoid it altogether if he could. It seemed that every other weekend, there was some…thing going on. The Fourth of July would be one of the biggest of the year, with a parade and a host of festivities along the river. But the night before was always responsible for most of the Independence Day hangovers on account of the dance downtown.