by Lori Wilde
#
They collapsed onto the sand where Poppy had left her beach bag, both of them winded and exhausted. Abel lay on his back, staring up at the cloudless blue sky, while Poppy rolled over on her stomach and rested her face in the crook of her arm.
He was trying to figure out exactly what had happened out there. Not just between him and Poppy, but between Poppy and Barksdale. Had it been a planned rendezvous with Barksdale that he’d inadvertently inserted himself into? Could she actually be in on the caper with Barksdale?
The thought chilled his blood. Captain Higgins didn’t think she was involved. But there were some cool customers out there; was she much more devious than she seemed?
Abel shot a glance over at Poppy. Her breath was coming out in soft puffs, her face hidden from him. Right now, he had the strongest urge to roll her over and kiss her. Never mind that they were both short of breath. Never mind they were on a public beach where everyone could see them. Never mind that he now had worrisome suspicions about her true relationship with Barksdale. His mouth burned with the overwhelming urge to taste hers.
He shouldn’t be having these thoughts. He should be getting to his cell phone, calling Higgins, telling him about Barksdale on the Jet Ski. But what was the rush? Barksdale was long gone, and Poppy was right here, warm and womanly and safe with him.
Abel sat up, aching to throw away all common sense, commit a tactical error, grab her by her shoulders, flip her over, and just kiss her to see if she really did taste like sunshine.
Poppy turned just as he leaned over her. She raised her head and crashed solidly into his jaw.
“Oww!” they yelled in unison.
He clutched his chin while she pressed a hand to the crown of her head.
“What were you doing?” She glowered at him.
“I was leaning over to kiss you.”
“Seriously? I thought we just had a fight.”
“We didn’t have a fight. We just groused at each other.”
“And that puts you in the mood for kissing?”
“No, lying next to you in the sand puts me in the mood for kissing.”
“I thought we had an agreement. Just friends.”
“I want to renegotiate the terms.”
“Even now? After I whacked you in the chin?”
He rubbed his jaw. “I’ve worked with worse injuries.”
She moved in closer and parted her lips.
He lowered his head. They hovered there, staring into each other’s eyes. He put his arm around her waist, pulling her close. He wanted to make this the best kiss he’d ever given anyone. He wanted her toes to curl.
Poppy chuckled. “Hurry and kiss me already. The suspense is killing me.”
“You’re making fun,” he said.
“You’re too meticulous. Stop thinking and just do it before there’s no chance that the kiss will live up to the anticipation.”
He glanced down at where he and Poppy sat with their arms entangled around each other. Poppy had thrown her head back and her laughter circled the air along with the seagulls. Sand covered his body, and his toes and fingers were wrinkly from the water. He tasted the ocean, smelled hot dogs cooking from a vendor down the beach, and realized something startling.
He was happy. Truly happy in a way he hadn’t been since he was a kid.
“Abel? Abel Black? Is that you?”
He jerked his gaze upward and spied a woman coming toward them.
No way! It couldn’t be. What was this? Attack of the exes? Running into Poppy’s old boyfriend and his former fiancée all in the same day? It felt too unbelievable. Especially when as far as he knew, Kirsten still lived in Austin. Then again, South Padre was the most popular tourist destination in Texas.
Poppy peered over. At some point when they’d been in the ocean, the band had come loose from her ponytail and now her wet hair was plastered to her head. Abel thought she looked like a sexy mermaid—tousled and windblown—but Poppy was quickly combing her fingers through the tresses, trying to tame her tangled locks.
Kirsten, looking elegant in a dark-blue one-piece swimsuit, sauntered over. She pushed her sunglasses up on her forehead, shaded her eyes with her hand, and squinted at him. She was a touch nearsighted.
Abel scrambled to his feet, dusting sand from his knees, springing away from Poppy. “K-Kirsten,” he stammered. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Um... I’m surfing.” He was feeling like he’d felt when he was a kid in school and the teacher caught him slouching against the wall in the cafeteria line. He halfway expected her to snap her fingers and say, “Get back in line.”
“I can see that.” She raised an eyebrow. “But why?”
“Why am I surfing or why am I in South Padre?” He shifted his weight and swung his hands. He was aware of the heat of Poppy’s gaze from behind him.
“Either one. Both.”
“Just having fun.” He gestured at Poppy’s surfboard parked on the sand. His rental board was MIA. That was going to cost him his deposit.
Kirsten’s jaw unhinged. “You? Taking time for fun?”
“Why not?” He smiled.
“And smiling. You’re smiling.”
He shrugged. “I suppose I am.”
“This is revolutionary.”
He held his arms wide. “The new me.”
Kirsten ran an assessing gaze over him. “Well, it looks good on you.”
He suddenly realized all the problems that Kirsten could cause for him if the conversation continued. She could let it slip that he was no accountant. That he was a Texas Ranger. Anxiety set in, but Abel had been trained to control his emotions. Calm under pressure.
“You’re looking good, Kirsten,” he said, intentionally lowering his voice, giving her a compliment so she’d be flattered and stop talking about him.
Her face pinkened with delight. “A compliment as well from my stoic old flame. Will miracles never cease? What has gotten into you? Whatever it is, I like it.”
“Hi!” Poppy came around from behind him, her hand fully extended. “I’m Poppy. The thing that’s gotten into your stoic old flame.”
Abel cringed outwardly, but inwardly, a small part of him was pleased. Poppy was just as jealous of Kirsten as he’d been over Barksdale.
“Oh, well, hello...” Kirsten shook Poppy’s sandy hand. “It’s great to meet you.”
“You, too.” Poppy’s smile was as sweet as dill pickles.
“So, surfing...” Kirsten dropped Poppy’s hand and shifted her gaze back to Abel.
“Yeah, surfing.” He was trying to send Kirsten a message with his eyes, begging her not to mention what he did for a living, but she wasn’t getting the hint.
She met his gaze and he saw a longing in them that he hadn’t seen since they were first dating. Holy cow. Kirsten wanted him.
“Remember when I tried to get you to go inline skating with me?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And snow skiing.”
“Yep, yep.” He plastered a palm to the back of his neck.
“You were always too busy. Not interested. The only thing you’d ever wanted to do was go work out and that was only because your job—”
“I was a bad, bad boyfriend,” he interrupted.
“Not bad,” Kirsten contradicted. “Just not much fun.”
“I can see why you left me. You deserved better. It’s been nice catching up...”
“But now look at him,” Poppy said. “He’s surfing with me. And he’s doing yoga. He takes my yoga classes. You should see his sacral chakra. Out of this world.”
“Seriously?” Kirsten gawked at him. “You take yoga?”
Sheepishly, Abel raised his palms in an I-surrender gesture. What was it going to take to move Kirsten along?
“Honey! There you are.”
They all turned to see a man coming up the beach carrying two Italian ices. His haircut looked expensive though oddly enough, not a h
air moved in the ocean breeze. He had on, of all things on the beach, a sweater tied around his neck by the sleeves and an orangey tan that looked as if it came straight from a bottle. The guy looked like a cliché of an Ivy League prepster. Right up Kirsten’s alley.
“Hey.” The guy’s grin was all teeth.
“Hey,” Poppy responded.
“My fiancé,” Kirsten explained. “Teddy, this is Abel and Poppy.”
“Wait a minute,” Teddy said, passing one of the Italian ices to Kirsten. “Are you Abel, Abel?”
He wanted to quip, “Ready, willing, and...” But he wasn’t much of a quipper. Instead, he said, “That’d be me.”
“I was just telling Abel I couldn’t believe he was surfing.” The wind whipped a strand of hair in Kirsten’s mouth, and she tugged it out with an index finger painted a glossy pink. Abel couldn’t help comparing her elegant manicure to Poppy’s short-trimmed, unpolished nails.
Kirsten produced a pout. “Abel never used to do anything fun. Now he’s catching waves and striking yoga poses.”
Poppy slipped an arm around Abel’s waist. “That certainly doesn’t sound like the Abel I know. Around me he’s fun, fun, fun.”
He almost grinned at that but managed to keep a straight face. He needed to get out of this situation ASAP before the conversation got around to what he did for a living.
“Real-ly?” Kirsten drawled out the word as if she didn’t believe it.
Poppy pulled him closer to her. “Really.”
“Well, then, I’m so happy—I thought he’d never loosen up.”
“Oh, he’s loose, all right.” Poppy winked. “If you know what I mean.”
Kirsten’s eyes widened and her mouth narrowed. Poppy had ticked her off. Maybe now she and Malibu boy would wander off down the beach with their Italian ices.
But instead, Kirsten said, “Since you’ve turned over a new leaf, Abel, I have a brilliant idea. You know why I’m in town, don’t you?”
“Um...” Abel stalled. He didn’t have a clue.
“It’s the annual King Ranch Wagon Train and Trail Ride.” To Poppy, Kirsten said, “The proceeds go to fight cystic fibrosis. My baby sister died of C.F., so every year, I drive a team of horses in the procession that goes from Kingsville, outside the King Ranch, to downtown Brownsville. It’s a hundred-and-twenty-mile trek that takes ten days. You can go for all ten days or just one or two days. We camp out along the way and there’s bonfires at night and live music and Dutch oven cooking. Abel even went with me once. It’s always a lot of fun. Tell her, Abel.”
“It is fun.”
“You should come! There’s an opening on our wagon. The couple who was supposed to go with had a family emergency and had to cancel last minute. We’d love to have you and Poppy join our team, Abel.” Kirsten said his name like she had honey stuck to the roof of her mouth and she was licking it off.
He grappled for a good excuse not to join them, but before he could come up with one, Poppy exclaimed, “We’d love to!”
“Brilliant,” Kirsten said. “Do you know anything about horses?”
“I’ve ridden a few times. I’m sure I could quickly get the hang of it. I love all animals and I’m game for anything.” Poppy poked Abel in the ribs. “Right, sweetie?”
“Er... um...” Abel stammered.
“Great. I’ll put you down,” Kirsten said. “Since it’s a team effort, if you have trouble guiding the team, Abel can pick up the slack. He knows horseflesh.”
“I can handle myself,” Poppy told her.
“We’ll see.” Kirsten smirked. “I’m so glad we ran into you two. This is going to be a blast. I’ll text you all the deets, Abel. Can’t wait to be back in the saddle with you again.”
Chapter Eleven
“We don’t have to go,” Abel said when they were back in the Jeep, heading to the apartment complex. “I can come up with a good excuse to beg off.”
“No, no,” Poppy said, “I want to.”
“Why?”
“It sounds like such a good time. I taught you to surf, you can teach me to drive cattle.”
“It’s a wagon trail, not a cattle drive.”
“What’s the difference?”
“On a cattle drive, you herd cattle. In a wagon train, you go from one place to another in a wagon train like the pioneers did.”
“Oh. You don’t want to go?”
“Spend a day or two with my ex and her new fiancé? Not really my idea of a good time.”
“Aww, c’mon. It’s for charity.”
“What’s the real reason you want to go?” he probed.
“I dunno.” Poppy shrugged. “Why do you think she asked?”
“Do you suppose Kirsten is trying to win me back?”
“You don’t have to smirk about it. I’m no more jealous of Kirsten than you are of Keith.”
She had a point, but he couldn’t tell her the real reason he was so concerned about Barksdale. “He came after you on a Jet Ski.”
“He’s hardly a white knight on a shining stead.”
“No unresolved feelings?” He didn’t want to hear it if there was, but he pushed because of his job.
“Keith means nothing to me. He was a passing thing.”
“Kirsten doesn’t mean anything to me, either.”
“Of course, she does. You were engaged to her. Honestly, I’m not jealous. I just want to see you in your milieu. So far, we’ve been on my turf. Yoga studio, the beach... I’d like to see you on a ranch doing cowboy things.”
“I thought you said we weren’t dating. That we were just friends.”
She stopped at a traffic light and turned her head to stare him straight in the eyes. “I think we both know that’s impossible.”
Oh, damn. She was right. And this couldn’t be happening at a worse time. A part of him—the reckless, impulsive part that he hadn’t even known existed until he’d been assigned to watch over her—wanted to gather smart little Poppy in his arms right there and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.
But then his honor took over. How could he have a sexual relationship with a target? It went against all protocol. It could even get him thrown out of the Rangers. He was walking on a razor’s edge. One wrong move and he’d get sliced to ribbons.
Or worse, cut Poppy.
He had to back off. Keep his desire in check. At least until the assignment was over.
And then after that?
Which raised another question. Once she found out that he’d been sent to spy on her, would she ever speak to him?
The idea of her not ever speaking to him again shouldn’t have him feeling so wretched, but it did. He’d only known her a week, and yet there it was. He couldn’t change how he felt.
When they arrived back at their apartment complex, he hopped out and grabbed hold of her surfboard, determined to carry it upstairs for her.
She sank her hands on her hips. “I’m not helpless, you know.”
“Never said you were.” He moved past her, caught a whiff of sweet fragrance, and had to fight off his urges again. God, how he wanted to kiss her!
He stopped when he got to her door. She came up behind him, keys in hand. She’d taken off her wet suit at the beach and wore only her bikini top and shorts. The blue butterfly tattoo was highly visible in the sunlight. He ached to press his lips to that butterfly, taste the salty tang of her skin.
“So,” she said.
“So,” he echoed.
“See you tomorrow evening?”
He nodded.
She gave him one last smile—how had he lived before he’d seen her smile?—and closed the door.
Leaving Abel to make his way back to his apartment, his heart staggering around in his chest like a Mardi Gras drunk. If Captain Higgins had him hooked up to a polygraph machine and asked him about his feelings for Poppy, there’s no way he could lie and get away with it. She stirred his blood, burned his brain, drove him mad in a way no woman ever had.
And mad was not a
healthy state of mind for a Texas Ranger.
Once inside his apartment, he made the call to Captain Higgins and told him about what had happened in the ocean.
“So, Barksdale is definitely still in South Padre.” Higgins sounded relieved. “Good work, Black. This lets me know my theory is correct. Poppy St. John is the key. I’m calling the judge to see if he’ll give us permission to tap her phone lines now. Did you find out what Barksdale said to her?”
“She didn’t want to talk about it, and I couldn’t insist without raising her suspicions.”
“You’re a smart guy, Abel. Find a way to get her to open up to you.”
“About that, sir. I’m not sure I’m the man for this job. I’m afraid I’m losing my objectivity when it comes to Poppy... er... the target.”
“You’ve already made inroads with this woman. She trusts you. Capitalize on that.”
Yeah, and I’m going to hurt her just like Barksdale did and that’ll crush her.
“You could just bring her in for questioning again,” Abel suggested.
“Let’s save that as an option of last resort. We can’t afford to tip our hand. You can do this. It’s why I selected you for this detail. You’ve always been able to separate your heart from your head.”
He had. Until now. Until Poppy.
“Find out what Barksdale discussed with your target. And that’s an order, Ranger.”
#
Dork.
Poppy had never felt more out of her element as she stared at herself in the mirror of the western wear shop in Kingsville, just a short drive from where the Wagon Train would start on the King Ranch.
They’d arranged to meet Kirsten and Teddy for lunch and the drive to the ranch together, but the minute Kirsten had seen Poppy in her shorts, tank top, and sandals, she’d clicked her tongue, said, “This won’t do,” grabbed her by the hand, and whisked her into the store.
Abel had tried to tell her when he’d come to pick her up that trail riding in shorts wasn’t a good idea, but she didn’t own any cowgirl clothes and told him it would be fine. From the expression on Kirsten’s face, that was absolutely untrue.
“We’ll get you properly attired,” she’d said, and flashed her Mastercard. “My treat.”
