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Just as I’m about to rise to my feet and tell them that I need to get moving, Anne brings out a key lime pie.
If I have one weakness, it’s for homemade key lime pie.
Especially when it has just the right amount of tartness.
And this one does. Each forkful of the custard-like filling practically melts in my mouth. It’s a little slice of heaven on a warm night.
Now that the sun has set, darkness floods the yard, and the stars brighten the velvety night sky. As tempting as it is to sit back and enjoy it, that’s not possible. Not with Poppy in the vicinity.
I finish off my beer before setting it on the table and clearing my throat. “I should probably head out.”
“Already?” Coach glances at the heavy silver watch wrapped around his wrist. “It’s not even nine.”
“Yeah, well…my boss scheduled an early morning practice, and I need to catch a few Z’s so I can run their asses on the field.”
“Sounds like the guy is a real jerk,” he says with a chuckle. “But seriously, I’m glad you were able to make it for dinner. We’ll have to do it again real soon.”
“Definitely.”
Not going to happen.
Once we reach the front door, Anne pulls me in for another hug and Coach claps me on the shoulder. I make sure to keep my distance from Poppy. She doesn’t look surprised by my chin lift. But still, her attention never deviates from me. The muscles in my gut clench as her gaze slides over my body like a physical caress.
Before the evening can stretch any further, I hightail it from the house and to my old pickup parked along the curb. From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a lime green Volkswagen Beetle in the driveway and shake my head in disgust.
It’s such a girly car.
My guess is that it belongs to Poppy. I don’t know her well, but it fits her personality to a T. Just go ahead and slap flower decals on the damn thing and call it a day.
Relief rushes through me as I slide onto the worn front seat and jam the key into the ignition. A second later, the engine roars to life and I pull away from the house, leaving it behind in the rearview mirror.
If only evicting Poppy from my brain were as easy.
Instead of heading home like I originally intended, I swing a right at the light and head to a little dive bar where the beer is cheap, the music is loud enough to blast the insistent thoughts from my head, and the women are easy. Maybe that’s exactly what I need. Someone soft to sink inside of so I can forget about the girl with the pretty little sundress once and for all.
Poppy
If there were any lingering doubts in my mind that Mason Price doesn’t like me, they’ve been laid to rest this evening.
He barely glanced at me the entire time he was here.
I made several attempts to draw him out of his shell by asking questions or making comments. His gaze would reluctantly flicker in my direction before he’d give me a clipped response. It was like I was talking to a Neanderthal who couldn’t do anything more than grunt out his answers. After a while, I gave up. There’s only so much teeth pulling I’m willing to do.
I have no idea what his problem is. My mind tumbles back to the other day. He must have taken offense when I offered my assistance. I was just trying to be friendly. All right…so maybe I was trying to come up with a way to spend time with him in order to figure out what it is I find so fascinating about the guy.
I hate to admit it, but the more he holds me at a distance, the more tempting it is to break through the roadblocks he’s erected between us.
How’s that for perverse?
“What a sweet man,” Anne says, interrupting the whirl of my thoughts.
I blink back to the present and scrunch my face.
Sweet?
Did we have dinner with the same person?
There are several adjectives that come to mind when describing Mason Price, but sweet isn’t one of them.
