Poppy shook her head, “Not as far as I know, but Link, she must have a reason for not wanting to move forward with you.”
He leaned forward. “But that’s just it, love. She doesn’t. I asked her why she was being so damn persnicky—”
“Do you mean persnickety?”
“That’s what I said.”
“That’s not what you said, but it doesn’t matter, because it’s not the word you’re looking for.”
He said something that would make a nun pass out. “You know what I mean. She’s resisting us and what we could have. She’s closing the damn door on it, and I have no idea why because she won’t even talk to me.” His scowl deepened. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was embarrassed or something.” His eyes widened in such a way that it was comical. “Embarrassed of me. Link Major. Can you believe it? Just last year, I was on People’s Sexiest Bachelors list. You know that, right?”
“Yes,” Poppy replied, hiding a smile. As one of the premier footballers in the world, with a body that would make Beckham proud, and a devastating smile, not to mention a castle in England, it was easy to see why. “You sent me a signed copy in a frame, which”—she pointed to the mantle above the fireplace— “sits right there. And you sent a link to the article.” She took another big sip of wine and leveled her gaze at Link. “Look, maybe she just needs some time. Her husband did pass not long ago, and it could be that part of the reason she got involved with you in the first place was because you were someone separate from her real life. You were a situation she could control, and what you two did would never impact her life here in Crystal Lake. I’d imagine it was a bit of a surprise for her to run into her secret lover at a Fourth of July party in the town she lives in.”
Link swore and drained his wineglass. “I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, and maybe I’ve behaved badly, what with showing up at her door unannounced. But I’m not willing to politely step aside while she throws away what could be something incredible. It’s almost as if…” His voice trailed off.
“As if what?” she prompted.
“It’s almost as if she’s scared of what she feels, or maybe she thinks she doesn’t deserve more.” His steely eyes landed on Poppy. “Kind of like you in that regard.”
“Me?” Surprised, she finished her wine and set the glass down on the coffee table. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you?”
“No.” Okay. She was more than a little annoyed now.
“Luv, I’m talking about you and Boone. To start with, you’re not the kind of woman to have sex with a man at a party.”
“We didn’t have sex at the party,” she shot back, sitting straighter. “You make it sound like it was some sort of exhibition.”
“There are places in this world where—”
“Jesus, Link. It wasn’t a sex show in Amsterdam. It was in the lake around the corner, where no one could see us.”
“You’re being defensive. I wasn’t meaning in the literal sense. What I’m trying to say is that he brings out something in you that you’ve sorta repressed all these years. A wild side that, quite frankly, I don’t mind seeing. And even though you profess to intensely dislike the man, I would point out that you did have non-exhibitionist sex with him, so there’s an obvious attraction there.”
“Why can’t I have sex with someone I don’t like?” She glowered at him. “Men do it all the time.”
“We’re not talking about men. We’re talking about you, luv, and that’s not your MO.”
“What’s with all the mansplaining? It’s getting really old.”
“Yeah?” Link winked. “And who else is mansplaining to you these days?”
She made a face and considered keeping quiet, but since Link knew pretty much everything about her, what was the point? “Boone stopped by the shop today,” she admitted. “And said the same thing.”
“Why was he at the shop?”
Her heart sped up when she thought of the kiss, and Poppy had to look away from the all-seeing eyes of one very intrigued Link Major.
“You gonna give your old mate an answer?”
“He wanted to talk about what happened, okay?” She jumped to her feet, suddenly restless.
He chuckled. “So let me get this straight. Boone Avery is pursuing you, and you’re not having any of it. Why’s that, exactly? I’ve not seen you look at another man the way you look at him since I’ve known you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She was not in the mood for one-on-one with Link. The man saw entirely too much and was heading down a road she didn’t want to travel. She felt twitchy, like her skin was pulled too tight over muscle and bone. A glance at the clock in the kitchen told her it was just past six. “Let’s go out.”
Always up for anything, Link stood. “Wings and beer?”
“Sure.”
“Coach House?” Anywhere there’d be people and music and dark corners to hide in sounded good to Poppy.
“Yep.” She moved past Link. “Just give me five minutes to freshen up and change.”
Exactly twenty minutes later, she pulled into the very full parking lot of the Coach House, which sat at the end of town not far from the old mill. She managed to squeeze her car into the back corner between a large oak tree and a beat-up Chevy pickup. A couple of guys she knew were having a smoke by their vehicle, and she smiled and shook her head when they called her over.
“I’m heading in for a drink,” she replied, ignoring the snort and eye roll from Link. “Why’s it so busy?”
She was two paces past them when Billy Andrews answered.
“Cain Black and his band are inside, or so I heard. I bet you won’t be able to get into the place in about a half hour or so once word gets out.”
“Pretty sure it already has,” she replied.
“Who’s that again?” Link asked as he pushed open the double doors and waited for her to pass.
“You must have heard of BlackRock?”
“What’s that?” Link glanced her way.
“It’s a band, and he’s pretty famous? I’m sure you met him at the Blackwells’ Fourth of July.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell, mate.” Link flashed a smile at a waitress as they made their way to the bar. “I think we’ll have to grab those stools, because I can’t see any open tables.”
Poppy followed him to the last two stools at the end of the bar and slid onto one. She’d left her hair loose and wore a black sleeveless lace top that maybe showed a bit more cleavage than she usually did, but then she was feeling reckless. Different. Electrified or something. If she were a witch, she’d swear there was a full moon. Or would she have to be a werewolf?
She’d pulled on a pair of jean shorts that were on the loose side, but comfortable, and her plain black flip-flops were already sticky from the walk over. She rubbed them on the bottom rung of the stool as Link ordered a bucket of cold Mexican beer, two pounds of wings, and an order of poutine.