I grunted with approval. “Yeah. That sounds more manly.”
Poppy beamed at me. “Open your gift, you big grump. Let’s see what I got you.”
“But I didn’t get anything for you.”
“Of course you didn’t. You were still trying to pretend you were a big old mountain grump. You can make it up to me next year.”
Poppy was surprising.
She was generous, down to earth, caring.
She didn’t seem to have a mean spot in her body.
And she was relentlessly upbeat. She hadn’t freaked out about getting trapped here with me for the holiday. Or missing the party she’d been planning to go to. She just rolled with the punches.
I ripped off the wrapping paper and discovered a bottle of wine.
Shyly, she told me, “That’s from Holt. Uh, I mean, it’s fromme, but it’s from his winery. Have you ever had a bottle of Holt’s elderberry wine before?”
This was a true treasure. “Yeah. It’s been a long time, though.”
“They say there’s magic in every bottle.”
There sure was.
The magic was already happening.
“You got this for me?”
“Yeah. I planned on asking you to share it with me. Youknow, as a way for us to get to know each other, since we’re neighbors and all.”
That brought me back to reality.
She wasn’t buying me bottles of wine because she liked me. She’d bought it to try to get me to stop being such a jerk to her.
I sat down next to her on the couch, sending a plume of dust into the air. The house was frigid without any heat on, and our breath was forming ice clouds every time we exhaled.
Taking her hand in mine, I told her, “This is the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in years. I’d love to share this bottle of wine with you, Poppy Daniels.”
Chapter 17
Poppy
The way he’d just said that practically sounded like a marriage proposal. I almost swooned on the spot.
“It’s a date then,” I blurted out.
For the first time since I’d met him, a tiny smile landed on his lips. It suited him well. “Yeah,” he rumbled. “It’s a date. But first, let me see what I can do about cleaning out your woodstove flue. This is the same woodstove that was here when I was a kid, and I’ve cleaned this thing out at least fifty times before.”
I gave him a delighted smile. “Okay, then, Mr. Handy. But you’d better watch out. You might get your nickname updated.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “What am I going to be next?”
“Mmm. Maybe you’re my Sexy Santa, come to fix this whole house up.”
He laughed, and I watched as his smile grew, blooming into something devastatingly handsome. The man was truly gorgeous. “All right, Poppy. I approve of that one. I’m your Sexy Santa. But I don’t have a Santa costume.”
“That’s okay. I can envision it in my mind. I’m good at imagining things.”
