She spied Nash, the owner, just as he came around the bar and grabbed four bottles of beer from the fridge before heading back the way he came. Poppy turned slightly and watched him until he disappeared. She wondered if he was here with his brother, Cam. And that made her wonder if the Blackwells were in attendance. Maybe Jake Edwards, who was Cain’s oldest friend.
And that made her wonder about Boone’s whereabouts.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” Link said, passing her a cold bottle. She grabbed it and tipped it up, taking a good long drink before setting it down on the bar.
“I’m fine,” she murmured, enjoying the sound of voices and the frenetic energy in the air. So far, she hadn’t spied Cain Black or any of his band members, and other than a few locals, most of the crowd seemed to be vacationers or newcomers. She relaxed some more. Boone had a child and was home looking after Benji.
She and Link made small talk while they waited for their wings. He told her about some team from some European country that was willing to pay him a small fortune to come out of retirement and get back to footballing. She told him about the Turkish towels that had finally come in and how they were flying off the shelves. The two of the talked about pretty much everything except the thing that was bothering each of them the most: the Averys.
Tiny, the bartender, set down two baskets of wings and a steaming plate of poutine just as Link slid off his stool. “Gonna hit the loo,” he said. “Be back in a minute.”
Hungry, Poppy dove in and happily started one of the baskets of wings as well as the fries that dripped in gravy, cheese curds, and seasoning. She’d just plopped another fry into her mouth when someone bumped her from behind, and she nearly knocked over her beer.
She turned around and made a face. Wayne McTeer. A townie she’d known since the third grade, he’d married straight out of college and had been fooling around on his wife since pretty much that day. He was a big flirt and saw any woman as game…and with his sloppy, obviously drunk smile set on Poppy, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where his libido was headed.
She craned her neck, but there was no sign of Link, and with a frown, she turned back to her basket of wings—he’d been gone awhile. She’d just taken a sip from her nearly empty bottle of beer when Wayne slid onto Link’s stool and reached around her to grab a nice-sized chunk of poutine—with his fingers.
“Jesus, Wayne. What the hell?” She pushed at him, which made his grin widen. He leaned close and winked.
“Looking good, Fairbanks.”
“Looking drunk, McTeer,” she shot back.
He chuckled. “You got that right. I’m celebrating my divorce. Janey left me for some white-collar asshole from across the lake.” He held up his bottle and shouted for another, but Tiny ignored him. “Shit, what’s a guy got to do to get served around here?”
“Maybe you’ve had enough,” she said with a frown.
Wayne set down his empty bottle and leaned way too close. “Maybe I have.” His breath smelled like stale beer, and it was all she could do not to gag. “Maybe we should leave and go back to your place.”
“And why would I do that?” She glared at him, done with this conversation and cursing Link for abandoning her with this oaf.
“Because I’ll make you scream like a fucking wolf.” He lurched closer, and she pushed at him.
“First of all, wolves don’t scream, they howl. And secondly? I wouldn’t let you touch me if you were the last man on earth. Literally. The last. So can you please leave and go back to your pals?”
“The fuck is your problem?” His face changed, his voice deepened, and his posture became aggressive.
A sliver of fear raced up Poppy’s spine, and for a moment, her world tilted sideways. Her vision blurred, and it was another face that sat inches from hers, eyes flat and black, hand locked into a vise that hurt. She blinked the image away, and her stomach roiled. God, it had been ages since she’d last felt like this. Mouth full of sawdust, she struggled to breathe.
“Move away,” she managed to say, pushing at him again, but this time weakly.
Wayne grabbed her wrist and would have pulled her close, except a steely voice slid between them, and he froze.
“Take your hands off her now, or I’ll do it for you.”
Surprised, Wayne loosened his grip, and she yanked her hand away.
“Boone. Hey, man, I didn’t see you—”
“Tiny, call this asshole a cab.” Boone’s face grew dark and dangerous, and there was no mistaking his anger when he stepped between Poppy and Wayne. “I think it would be a good idea to wait outside for your cab.”
Wayne’s mouth dropped open, and for a second or two, he looked confused. He opened his mouth to respond, but Boone didn’t give him the chance.
“And apologize for manhandling the lady before you do.”
Wayne’s eyes moved from Boone back to Poppy. He laughed nervously, but when Boone didn’t join in, his laughter faded and he cleared his throat.
“Hey, I didn’t mean anything. Sorry. I guess I overdid the celebrating thing.”
Poppy didn’t respond, and when Wayne slid off the seat and disappeared in the crowd, she turned to Boone.
“This is the second time you’ve come to my rescued when I didn’t need it. I could have handled him.” She wasn’t so sure she could have, not with her mind taking a trip down memory lane, but it felt like she had to at least say it.
“I know,” he replied, reaching for the bucket of beer and one of the baskets of wings.
“What are you doing?”
“Your buddy Link joined us. I’m here with Nash and Cam and Wyatt and his wife, Regan. We’ve got a booth up near the stage. Link sent me over to grab you.”
“Did he.” A fire erupted in her gut, instantly loosening up all that anxiety in her. It fell away like water down the drain, leaving her feeling strange… but in a good way.
Boone nodded. “He did.” He paused. “You coming?” He took a step back and waited, those dark eyes of his mysterious and so damn intense, it made shivers of ice roll down her back, sliding over the heat that covered her whole. The sensation was something else. Boone was right about one thing. There was something between them. Something hot and electric and dangerous. The kind of something that could make her lose her mind and have sex with him in the lake a few hundred feet from her friends.
A heartbeat passed.
She should leave. Go home and eat her cheese and drink her wine and watch mindless reality television. That would be the smart thing to do.
Another heartbeat passed.
Poppy slid off her stool and sailed past Boone.
Chapter Twelve
To say that Boone was surprised Poppy came with him was an understatement. He’d been pretty sure she’d either toss a drink in his face or stomp out of the place without a word. But nope. There she sat, directly across from him, nestled up to the Brit like they were sardines in a much too small tin. The Coach House was loud, folks were in a tizzy because Cain and his band were about to hit the stage, and Boone couldn’t hear a word they were saying.
It irritated the hell out of him.