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Toben surfaced beside her. “Good to see them smiling. I was beginning to think they didn’t have it in them.”
Poppy nodded, acutely aware of how close he was. “What happened with Mitchell?” she asked.
He swam around her, putting them face-to-face. “Does it matter?”
Her gaze locked with his. “Yes.”
“He the one you’re engaged to?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly.
“No.” She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Does it matter?”
His blue eyes narrowed but he didn’t say anything. Instead he disappeared beneath the water. Seconds later his hand grabbed her ankle and he tugged her under.
Poppy plunged beneath the water, swallowed in sensation. His hands sliding up her bare stomach. His arm sliding around her waist, anchoring her against him. He was warm and strong, his bare chest pressing against hers and lighting a fire inside her. She was going to drown in this—not the water. And then he was tugging her back to the surface.
“He got you, Ma,” Rowdy said, laughing.
She sputtered, her hands gripping Toben’s shoulders until there was air in her lungs. But seeing his chest, the rounded muscles of his shoulders, his thick neck and square jaw... She was gasping for air. Her fingers curled into the wet fabric of his shirt.
Don’t look at him. Don’t do it.
Her eyes met his. And the hunger she saw there, raw and fierce, had her pushing off his chest and under the water. She swam back to the rock, pulling herself out and onto the flat surface. It was hot, so she spread her shirt out and sat, dazed.
“Don’t leave, Ma,” Rowdy called out, splashing her with water.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she answered, waving at him. “Just needed a...drink.” She stretched, tugging her insulated lunchbag to her side and pulling a water bottle out. Her hands shook as she opened the bottle and took a sip.
Toben was tossing the kids into the water, their laughter and pleas for more assuring her that he wasn’t affected. He’d dunked her in river water and she was having a visceral reaction. One that had her throbbing. The look in his eyes... She blew out an unsteady breath. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was seeing what she wanted to see.
She wrung the water from her hair, angry. That was not what she wanted to see. She had no interest in reliving her disastrous affair with Toben. Even if she had enjoyed every second of it at the time...
No, certainly not. She had big plans. Her shop, being an involved mom, living a normal life... Toben Boone didn’t fit that mold. If he wanted to be a part of Rowdy’s life, great. But she needed to let him know she wasn’t part of that arrangement. And when she wasn’t a mess, she’d tell him so.
She lay back, letting the hot sun warm her skin until her tension melted away.
“You’ll get burned.” Toben’s voice was low.
She rolled over, refusing to look at him.
“Poppy, I’d like to introduce Rowdy to my family. We try to get together, the whole crew, once a month if we can. I thought I could show him the ranch, let him meet one or two people first? So the family gathering’s not too overwhelming.”
She pressed her eyes shut. Toben’s family. Rowdy’s family. For Poppy, family meant her son. Yes, she had her sister, but Rose had Bob and the kids and little time for anything else. She wouldn’t begrudge her son more people to love him. She sat up, watching the kids still splashing in the river. “Okay.”
Toben sat beside her, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles.
She leaned away, resting on one arm. Proximity seemed to have a direct impact on both of them.
“I brought some steaks to grill,” he said. “Picked up some potato salad and a watermelon, too.”
She glanced at him, surprised. He was, without a doubt, the most attractive man she’d ever seen. Every inch of him was rock hard and golden. His shirt was gone, his hair damp and his smile... She swallowed.
“I said I’d cook dinner,” he explained, smiling at her.
She was mesmerized by the drop of water running onto Toben’s well-muscled chest. She shivered, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. She hugged tight, resting her chin on her knees.
“So, Mitchell?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“Is a good man.” Which was true. “He’s important to Rowdy. And to me.”
