“Hey, y’all know Poppy, right?”
A collective hey sounds, and then Ainsley steps forward. “I don’t. Hey! I’m Ainsley, Knox’s fiancée. It’s so great to meet you.” Ainsley leans in and hugs Poppy, her eyes bugging out.
I chuckle and shrug. “Ainsley’s a hugger.”
“Cool,” Poppy’s voice squeaks.
“You teach at the elementary school, right?” Lia breaks the ice.
“Yeah, I love it.” Poppy’s smile brightens her eyes and puts her at ease. She and Lia start talking about work, while Knox takes a careful look at me. Half of my friends know this is a front to help Poppy out, which could lead them to wonder why the fuck I brought her over. The other half has no idea what’s going on yet.
As for the town and its people, Poppy and I are together. The highly-pursued mayor’s daughter finally gave someone a chance, and I just so happen to be that someone. Before I agreed to this, I didn’t realize how deep I’d be thrust into a role that was supposed to be a one-night thing. Although, faking a relationship isn’t something you can show up, do in a night, and expect people to forget about.
Besides, this adds some excitement and helps Poppy out, especially after hearing about the bets the men in this town have created. I’d expect that from people in Los Angeles, not a place like this.
“Hey. Whoa.” Eli walks up to us and then pauses, staring at Poppy. “Man, I didn’t believe it when I heard, but I guess you did snatch up Poppy Powell.”
“Bless your heart, Eli,” Ainsley says, her Texan drawl dripping with sarcasm.
“Ainsley, I know that’s meant to be insulting coming from a Texan,” he glares at her.
“You’re cute,” she pats his shoulder, laughing. “But, you’ve got no filter.”
I scrub a hand down my face and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Eli is Knox’s best friend. They grew up together. He’s a great guy, but he spits things out of his mouth without thinking. Like Ainsley said, no filter.
“I say it how it is,” he winks, and Ainsley rolls her eyes.
“Hey now, leave him alone. Deep down, he’s a sweetheart.” Lia smiles at him.
Axel mutters something, and Lia jabs her elbow into his ribs. “Ow.”
“He made sure I got home safe instead of wrecking myself when you and I were at odds.” She lifts her eyebrows at Axel. “Forever grateful.” She nods at Eli.
“I just did what any person would.” He shakes his head and turns to Poppy. “Hey.”
“Hi, Eli.” She lifts a brow and shakes her head, the ghost of a smile on her lips.
Does she have a thing for him?
I look between them, but Eli’s already talking to Knox, and Poppy is rolling the stem of her glass between her fingers as she looks around Clarke’s.
“Do you want another one?” I ask, grabbing the glass from her.
“No, I’m okay. Thanks.”
“Are you sure?” I look into her eyes.
“Yeah, I don’t drink much, so I’m a lightweight. Don’t want to push my luck.”
“Okay.”
Thankfully, everyone is busy in their own conversations, taking the attention off of us. I look at her and then down to her feet. “You own cowboy boots.” I’m not sure why that surprises me. The boots frame her calves, and damn, her legs are perfect. Her jean skirt’s giving me a look into a body part that, up until now, has been hidden by pants.
“Doesn’t everyone in this town?” Her brows quirk, and her lips tug at the corners.
“I don’t. I guess I should buy a pair now that I’m a real Everton resident.”
“You need to. If not, you’re not really a local.” She shakes her head and shrugs. “I’m pretty sure it’s in our constitution.”
“Constitution?” I place my empty beer bottle on the bar and turn back to her. “Isn’t a constitution for a country, not a small town?”
“We’ve got one, though. Something about the past and the miners who lived here. I’m not one-hundred percent sure the history behind it, though I should.” She shrugs as if she can’t be bothered with the facts.
“This town never ceases to surprise me.”
“So yeah, no boots, no residency.” She looks at me with those dark sea-colored eyes, round and sweet.
“I’ll have to remedy this A-SAP, then.” She nods in agreement, her lips in a straight line as if she’s disappointed in me, but the gleam in her eyes gives away her teasing mood. “Where does one buy them in this town?” I lean in and whisper.
“You’re from the South and don’t know where to buy cowboy boots. This is disappointing.” She crosses her arms, shaking her head in disapproval.
“What can I say? I’m more of a city boy.”
She cringes. “Don’t say that too loud around here,” she warns.
“Understood.” I nod once, causing her to giggle. I take pride as she laughs at my joke, seemingly more relaxed than when I first pulled her over to this side of Clarke’s. “Do you want to go back to your friends?”
Poppy’s shoulders tense. “Oh, yeah. I guess I should, huh?” The light in her eyes dulls as if a power outage removed the life from a city.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just figured they’d be annoyed at me for taking you away from your girls’ night. You can totally hang out here.”
“No, no. You’re right. I should go see what they’re up to. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wouldn’t it be weird if we separate now?”
“Nah, I’ll say I wanted to hang out with my friends. Don’t worry.” She brushes me off and walks into the crowd, finding her way back to the group of women she walked in with.
As I watch her go, I wonder what her story is. There’s more than her simply wanting to please her parents. No one our age would go this far. At least, no one who is sane, and Poppy seems like she’s sane. It’s rare that my judgment of people is off-target.
For all intents and purposes, Poppy and I are a couple. A real one. We have to keep up this game for a little longer, but when I spend time talking to her, it doesn’t feel forced.
Poppy
“Tell me about Harris,” my mom urges me as I concentrate on keeping my eye closed but not squeezed, so Anne, the makeup artist, doesn’t chastise me again as if I were an incompetent five-year-old. I’m the first to tell you that five-year-olds are far from incompetent. I’ve met a lot more adults with fewer brains than children.
“Mom, I’m trying to focus here,” I say, moving my lips as little as possible.
“Don’t twitch,” Anne warns.
“You see, Anne is going to leave if you keep trying to distract me.”
“You’re being silly. You can talk while you get your makeup done,” my mom laughs.
I could, but I rather use this as an excuse than talk about Harris in front of Anne. She’s nice and all, but I don’t like anyone hearing about my private life. My mom knows this, so I’m not sure why she’s pushing when we can talk about it later.
“Keep your eyes closed while the mascara dries.” I do as Anne advises, grateful to have a reason to avoid eye contact with my mother. I’m afraid she’ll read in my eyes that I used Harris as an excuse, and he’s not really my boyfriend. Then, I’ll be the laughing stock of the town.
When Anne steps out of my mom’s room, I tell her, “Mom, drop it for now. You know I don’t like talking about this stuff in front of other people. I like to keep my private life to myself.” I clench my teeth.
“Understood.” I sigh when she doesn’t argue with me.
The entire afternoon has been loaded with questions, wine, too much hairspray when I was specific that I didn’t want any, and overdone makeup that I was told is a must if I want to look the part. I have enough role-playing with one situation to add an ‘impeccably flawless woman’ to the list.
What I’d give to stay home tonight in my pajamas and eat pizza. I could really go for some pizza right now. Instead, I’ll be putting on a blush blue, strapless, floor-sweeping gown made of
real silk chiffon, with a fancy braid that reminds me of Elsa from Frozen, which I could never do myself no matter how many tutorials I watch on YouTube
“How are my girls?” My dad walks into the room, and I peek an eye open to look at him. He’s dressed in a well-fitted tux and proud smile. His blue eyes shine as they see me. His gray hair is slicked back, keeping his waves under control.
“We’re great. Poppy just finished her makeup, and we’ll be getting dressed soon,” my mom responds, standing from her seat and walking to my dad. I cringe as I watch her kiss him. No matter how old you are, you don’t want to see your parents’ PDA.
“When will we be meeting this young man?” My dad looks around my mom’s shoulder and stares at me.
“He’ll be here at six.” For Harris’s sake, I hope he’s punctual. A little early would favor him, actually.
“I look forward to it.” My dad winks, and I groan, closing my eyes again.
Anne walks in—perfect timing—and interrupts our family meeting. She inspects my makeup and smiles. “Perfect.”
Then, she brushes my lips with the bright red lipstick my mom bought for me.
“Remember to take this with you and touch it up. Although it’s long-lasting, it will fade as you drink and eat.” Anne gives me a pointed look until I agree with a nod.
She knows I hate getting dressed up and wearing excessive makeup. What’s wrong with concealer, some bronzer to make my pale skin look like it’s seen the sun, and Chapstick?
“Have fun,” she winks, finally letting her controlling demeanor slip a bit. That’s the Anne I actually like, not the strict makeup artist.
Anne has been doing my mom’s makeup and hair for events for years now. When I was old enough, my mom made sure I was added to her client list. Prom, graduation, birthdays, my parents’ wedding vows renewal. You name it, poor Anne has had to put up with my antics.
After saying our goodbyes, my mom helps me into my dress, zipping up the back. She takes a step back, a warm smile lighting up her green eyes, and a wistful look landing on her features.
“You look beautiful, darling.” She pulls me into a hug, and I let her. There are times I can push her away, this isn’t one of them.
“Thanks, Mom. Now, get dressed before you’re late. You don’t want to miss meeting Harris, do you?”
Her eyes widen. “Of course not.”
She walks into her closet, coming out in her black gown so I can help her with the buttons on the back. She turns, and I admire her dress. Long like mine, also of silk chiffon, but it has short sleeves and a modest V neckline.
My mother is beautiful. From the photos I’ve seen, she was gorgeous in her younger years, and she still carries that confidence and beauty as she gracefully ages.
When we walk out of her bedroom, my dad waits for us with a bottle of champagne. “Tonight is worth a toast,” he grins and fills three flutes. “To family, the most important thing in the world; those present and those who have gone, which we will always honor.”
I smile sadly as I see my mom’s eyes water before she takes a deep breath to stop her tears from falling. My dad pulls her into his side, kissing the side of her head. I know that no matter how many years it’s been, the memory of not being able to have more children affects her. I drink the champagne because it will help keep my emotions and nerves in check.
“Oh.” My mom’s head perks up, and she smiles. “It seems as if your date has arrived.”
The echo of the doorbell is still ringing in my ears as my heart sprints. I take a few deep breaths and place my glass on the island.
I just need tonight to go as planned. The rest of the few weeks leading to our breakup will be easier, but interaction with my parents is what has me the most anxious. They’ll tell if I’m lying.
My gown brushes the floor as I walk to the door, taking one final deep breath before opening the door.
“Hey,” I smile with all my teeth, then relax a bit. No need to look like a psychopath with an overly eager and creepy smile.
When I see Harris, my breath catches, and my jaw drops.
“What? What is it? Do I look okay?” He looks down at himself with wide eyes.
“No, no, you look great. Sorry, come in.” He looks handsome in his tux, short hair perfectly combed to the side. His eyes are light and calm, like a clear sky on a summer day. Oh look, I’m a poet and didn’t know it. I hold in my giggle at my own absurdity and smile.
“You look beautiful.” He leans forward and kisses my cheek, the scruff tickling me.
“Thank you.” I feel the heat rise, and I’m sure he can see the red creeping up my exposed chest and neck.
Instead of teasing me, he lifts his hand. “A poppy for a Poppy.” He smiles wide.
I scrunch up my nose but thank him, taking the red flower.
“Too cheesy?” He narrows his eyes.
“Bring it down a notch,” I nod with a teasing tone. “My dad would never believe I’d date a guy who says that.” I whisper this, knowing my mother is most certainly eavesdropping.
“I was so proud of that line,” he says under his breath, shaking his head. I laugh at his genuine attempt and lead him into the house to meet my parents.
“Mom, Dad, this is Harris Miller. Harris, these are my parents, Tim and Emma.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Powell.” Harris shakes both of my parents’ hands with an easy smile.
“It’s great meeting you as well,” my mom says. “Poppy hasn’t had a chance to tell us much about you, so I’m looking forward to getting to know you tonight.”
Way to be discreet, Mom.
“I’m looking forward to it as well.” He looks at my dad. “Congratulations, sir. Everton is a great town, and I’m sure it’s all thanks to you.” Harris handles the introductions like a pro.
When my dad hands him a flute of champagne, Harris gratefully takes it. When my mom asks him about his career, he answers all her inquiries with courtesy and professional wisdom. It’s clear he’s proficient in the work he does.
I admire him as he speaks, taking in the timbre of his deep voice and the way he draws out his words, his accent heavy despite living in Los Angeles for the last few years.
I guess it’s true what they say, you can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.
I smile thinking about that, imagining Harris living in a more rural setting instead of a posh city. Although, his perfectly coiffed hair and sleek, expensive-looking tux is proof he’s lived somewhere worldly. Somewhere that offers bigger opportunities and mingling of all kinds of people, not just small-town folk.
I’ve only lived outside of Everton while I attended college, and that was hardly comparable to a city the size of Los Angeles or even Nashville, for that matter. Wyoming is mostly rural, with residents who are proud of their hard work and farm life. I love it, but sometimes I wish I’d had the opportunity to explore beyond state lines.
“Oh, my, we should get going.” My mom looks at the time on her phone and grabs her purse. “We can’t be late, dear.” She smiles at my dad. It’s clear they love each other, especially after all they’ve been through.
I remember being a little girl and seeing my mom cry after a miscarriage. It was the last one before she resigned to having more children. All I wanted was for her to be happy, so I made it my life mission to be the perfect daughter so she wouldn’t wish she had more than just me.
“Ready to go?” Harris’s eyes sweep over to mine. The color never ceases to enthrall me.
“Yes.” I get my nude clutch and hook my arm with Harris’s when he offers. “We’ll see you there,” I look at my parents.
“We’re right behind you,” my dad says, and my mom winks.
I promise I try to hold in my eye-roll, but she’s so obvious it’s almost laughable. Almost. As in I’d laugh if I weren’t on the receiving end of that wink with Harris watching her.
Once we’re in the car, I exhale.
&n
bsp; “That wasn’t too bad,” Harris comments, turning the ignition.
“Not at all. It was almost believable.”
“Poppy, it was totally believable.” He gives me a lopsided grin, and I sigh. This time not in relief, but as a woman who is attracted to a man who is only pretending to want her back.
“Do you live here with your parents?” Harris interrupts my thoughts as I start to overanalyze my attraction to Harris and the reality of our relationship.
“No, I live in a small apartment not too far away, but my mom scheduled for us to have our hair and makeup done here. I know it made her happy to get ready for the ball with me, and it was easier to have you pick me up here rather than driving back home in my gown.” I’m rambling, as always.
“They have a beautiful home.”
“They do.” I nod.
“Is that the house you grew up in?”
“Yeah.” A wistful sigh leaves my lips. I smile softly, memories of my childhood coming to me as I’d run around the big yard, feet muddy from the rain that hadn’t yet been soaked by the soil.
Poppy
The drive to Town Hall is short, like everything else in this town. Harris opens my door and offers his arm. I gladly take it, holding the side of my dress with my other hand, so it doesn’t drag on the ground.
As soon as Harris and I walk into the room where the ball is being held, expecting eyes lands on us.
I lean into Harris. “Five bucks says they’ve been waiting for us to arrive.”
“Ten says the reason for the silence is because we almost caught them talkin’ about us.”
I giggle and nod. “Definitely.”
We walk further into the room, greeting a few people. Round tables with long, white tablecloths fill the space. White ranunculus is mixed with eucalyptus in clear vases at the center of each table. My mom has outdone herself with the decor. It’s classy yet simple for Everton. Clean, fresh, and almost fairy-like with the twinkling lights hanging in the ceiling.
There are locals, as well as the governor of Wyoming and mayors from neighboring towns. This is a big deal, and I’m filled with pride for my dad.
Pretend You're Mine Page 5
