Page 75 of Heart Breaker

She smiles. “Call your wife while you’re gone.”

“Goodbye, Angelina.”

Her advice stays with me the entire drive to the airport, and so does the image of Lottie swimming laps in that navy swimsuit.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Wes

Three days later, the morning air is still cool when Poppy and I head into the backyard, but the cloudless sky overhead promises that won’t last long. By noon, Deep Cove will be cooking. For now, though, there’s a breeze coming off the water and just enough shade to make working outside bearable.

Ford dropped Poppy off here early this morning before he and Landyn headed to a meeting, knowing I have the day off. I’m always happy to spend time with my niece, but she’s probably not quite as happy because she’s now outside with me tidying up the yard.

I take a break from trimming the big Japanese Maple to watch Poppy throwing a branch on the growing pile in the middle of the yard. Once it lands, she flops dramatically onto a pool lounger.

“Uncle Wes, I can’t do this anymore,” she moans, throwing an arm over her head.

I snort. “You’re carrying sticks.”

“It’s manual labor.”

“Pretty sure manual labor requires actual labor.”

Poppy glares at me. “My arms are exhausted.”

I give her a look of mock sympathy. “It’s tragic, Poppy girl.”

“It is.” She slides even farther down the chair. “I think my arms are going to fall off.”

“Should I call an ambulance?”

“Probably,” she nods. A grin tugs at the corners of her mouth before she catches it and quickly rearranges her face into one of suffering. The kid spends way too much time around Jesse.

“Is Aunt Lottie still sleeping?” she asks, trying a new distraction tactic.

“I think so. She was working pretty late last night.”

My thoughts drift to Lottie and the honeymoon I need to finish planning. I’ve spent the last five days since the party at her parents’ place trying not to overthink all the ways we could spend a weekend alone together.

“Uncle Wes.”

I blink. Poppy is staring at me.

“What, peanut?”

“You got that look. The one where you’re not listening to me.”

I meet her eyes. “Sorry, Poppy. I just got distracted for a second.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re thinking about Aunt Lottie.”

I nearly drop the clippers.

“Uncle Wes? Can we take a break?” She looks down at the purple watch my brother bought her for her birthday. “We’ve been working for twenty-three minutes.”

I shake my head and toss another branch onto the pile, wondering why I don’t just hire a gardener to do this work. But the truth is, I don’t mind it. Most days, I’d rather be doing this than sitting in another boardroom at Cove. The simple stuff has always been easier. Gardens don’t complicate your life. People do.

“Tell you what, Poppy-girl. Help me finish this pile and then we’ll take a break and play hide and seek.”