“I’ll tell Ivy,” I mutter.
“I’m sure you will.”
I don’t say goodbye.
I spin on my heel, march back to the guest house, and only when I’ve slammed the door and dramatically flopped on the bed do I dial CeCe.
She answers on the first ring. “Oh no. What happened now?”
I stare at the ceiling. “He’s hot and horrible.”
“Be more specific.”
“The groom’s brother—Dean. He’s giving…brooding CEO thunderstormenergy.”
“Pssh,” CeCe makes a noise. “That’s nothing you can’t handle.”
I hope she’s right.
Chapter Four
Everything Is Under Control (It Isn’t)
Dean
I’m about to close my laptop when something catches my eye through the window.
She’s still out there, sitting on the guest house steps in the dark. Not on her phone. Just… sitting. With her head in her hands.
I should go to bed. I should mind my own business. I should definitely not care that a woman who tracked dog shit through my life is having a moment.
But Muffin’s already waddling toward the door, whining.
“You’re not going out there,” I tell her.
She scratches at the door, insistent.
“Fine. But we’re not talking to her.”
I open the door. Muffin shoots out like a furry missile, straight toward Poppy.
Traitor.
I follow because apparently, I make excellent decisions at 11 p.m.
The moonlight catches her as I approach, and I have to remind myself why this is a bad idea. She’s the kind of pretty that few men can resist—large blue eyes fringed with dark lashes and a mouth that lifts into a smile easily and often—though not tonight. Silky golden hair falls past her shoulders, catching the light even in darkness. Curves made for a man’s hands.
A dangerous combination for sure. Good thing I’ve always been good at locking down anything resembling a wayward emotion.
She doesn’t look up when Muffin reaches her. She automatically reaches down to pet her, and that’s when I see it.
Her hand is shaking.
“You okay?” The words spill out before I can stop them.
She jumps and quickly wipes her face. “Geez. You scared me.”
“Sorry. Muffin insisted.”
