Her mother got an excited gleam that spoke of weddings and more grandkids, her sister wore a know-it-all smirk, but it was Wynn, with his raised eyebrow and half smile, who said, “Details, please.”
No, she was not going to stand here and be interrogated like a common criminal when she was simply an innocent victim of circumstance. But when she told them that, they all laughed. Even Holly, who said, “Play now. Win?”
But Holly’s questions distracted her sister and mother long enough for Poppy to reach the first step. “I’m going to change,” she called out as she rabbited up the stairs, knowing they wouldn’t follow her. Wynn, on the other hand, climbed behind her, though he moved at a more leisurely pace.
“Don’t think you can hold out on me,” he said, pushing open her bedroom door and plopping himself down on her bed.
“If you think I’m changing in front of you, you’re wrong.”
To his credit, Wynn seemed as put off by the idea as her. “You aren’t my type. Besides, I can tell you don’t really want to change. You were just trying to get away from Rose and Cami.” His grin widened. “Now, tell me what’s been going on. How can you already be hooking up with someone after three days? I’m so proud.”
“We’re not hooking up,” Poppy said, burying her face in her closet under the guise of searching for something else to wear, in the hopes that if her cheeks flamed up, Wynn wouldn’t notice.
“So you just happened to be wearing sexy heels by the lake in a pretty dress all alone when you fell in and some big, bad, handsome stranger rescued you?”
Poppy shot him a look over her shoulder. “You caught me. That’s exactly what happened.”
Wynn laughed. “Your sister was only too happy to brief me, so there’s no point in trying to pretend. What’s he like?”
Poppy turned back to searching through her clothes. Since she’d only brought enough for the week, there wasn’t much to dig through, even though she’d packed at least twice as much as she’d need so she’d be prepared for any occasion. She started at the front of the rack and flipped through again, more slowly.
“I can wait here all day.”
Wynn always said that, but Poppy had never put him to the test. She was a spiller, divulging all her secrets when asked. And she did want to talk about what was going on with someone who wasn’t her mother or sister, but she wasn’t sure how to start.
“Do you promise not to blab everything?”
Wynn pulled his best offended face. “Please, I am known for my discretion. Except when tequila is involved, but everyone has their weaknesses.”
“I met him when I was sixteen.” She shared all the details of that summer. How Beck had cruised into town in his Acura Integra, so different from the boys she’d grown up with. Or maybe just different because she didn’t already know everything about him. He was smart and funny. They swam in the lake behind his parents’ new house, and sneaked wine coolers in the guesthouse that was still being built. Actually, sneaking wine coolers was one of the less exciting things they’d done in that guesthouse.
The more she told Wynn, the more he sat up until finally he burst out, “How could I not know this? I thought we were best friends. You’ve been holding out on me.”
“I wasn’t holding out. It was a long time ago.” And by the time she and Wynn had met in second-year university, it wasn’t something she thought about much at all. “What would you have thought if I’d started crying about some high school relationship when I first met you?”
“I’d have thought you were a freak.”
“Exactly.”
“But after we became friends, you should have told me. The night a woman loses her virginity is an important one.” He somehow managed to appear hurt by this, as though she’d let him down.
“It never came up.”
Wynn got a sly look in his eye. “Is that what he said?”
Poppy threw a pillow at him. “No.” Not at all, but that wasn’t up for discussion. “Besides, it’s not exactly like I’ve been pining over him for the last decade.”
“Are you pining now?”
Wynn had always been too astute for his own good.
“Not pining,” Poppy said. “A little confused.” She pulled a clean dress out of the closet, a cute little shift that looked like something someone might have worn in the sixties, with a straight bodice, short sleeves and a hem that cut off about midthigh. She liked the friendly-dolphin print that from a distance looked like a herringbone pattern.
“You still like him,” Wynn said, crossing his legs and running a finger down the sharp crease in his pant.
“I don’t think I’d go that far.” But she’d be lying if she didn’t say something drew her to him. He intrigued her. Still. She should still be mad at him.
“I would. You’re smitten.”
“I’m not smitten.”
“Such a smitten kitten.”
She opened her mouth to argue and then closed it. Who was she kidding? Beck still made her weak in the knees. And, apparently, the head.
“I don’t want to like him,” she told Wynn, laying the dress across the footboard. “But there’s something about him.”
“About time.”
Poppy glanced up. “What is that supposed to mean?” As if she didn’t already know.
Wynn tilted his head and gave her a pitying frown. “Your attempt to play coy is a sad failure. We both know what I’m talking about.”
Since she would only embarrass herself by continuing the act, Poppy dropped it. For months, Wynn had been hounding her to get over Evan, to get back into the dating world and see where life took her. He hadn’t believed her whenever she tried to tell him she wasn’t mourning Evan.
She still thought it had been a perfectly natural grieving process. Would any woman be okay after coming home from work to the apartment she shared with her fiancé to be told he had quit his job and was selling all his worldly goods so he could go to Thailand and find himself? Poppy didn’t think so.
Of course, that didn’t explain the fact that in the ten months since she hadn’t gone on a single date, but Poppy didn’t think she’d been avoiding anything. During that time she worked and grew the business—nothing wrong with focusing on the professional aspect of her life for a while.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I won’t see him again after this week.” And she was okay with that. Totally. She realized she was clutching the hem of Beck’s T-shirt and let go.
“Why not?”
“He lives in Seattle, for one thing. Plus, I don’t know if I’d want to see him again anyway.” The abrupt way he’d left her all those years ago had left a mark. “He’s helping me with Jamie,” she said in an effort to change the subject.
Poppy had filled Wynn in on her concerns about Jamie’s sudden engagement as soon as they’d received their invitations to the wedding. Though Wynn and Jamie had only met through Poppy they’d immediately hit it off and since Wynn spent his holidays with Poppy’s family, they’d seen each other semiregularly.
Her ploy worked. Wynn’s eyebrows lifted. “What did you find out?”
“Nothing.” She sighed, flopping down on the bed beside him. “It’s been incredibly frustrating. She doesn’t work and doesn’t seem to have interests outside of Jamie and the wedding.” She sighed again. “But she seems sweet.”
“She would though, wouldn’t she? Seem sweet,” Wynn mused. “What’s the ring like?”
“Nice. Boring but nice.”
“But it’s not your ring.”
“No ring is my ring except my ring.” Poppy knew it was silly, but she’d picked out her engagement ring a couple years earlier. Not on purpose. She’d been out with a friend who wanted to stop into a jewelry store. Poppy, who had still been planning weddings at the time, couldn’t think of anything she’d
like to do less, but she’d gone along rather than make a fuss.
While her friend had ogled the sparkle and shine of the princess cuts, Poppy wandered into the vintage area. And there, staring back at her, was the piece that soon became known as her ring. She’d never seen anything like it before—art deco in style with a square-shaped center diamond surrounded by onyx and more diamonds.
“I still don’t understand why you don’t buy it for yourself,” Wynn said.
“Because as I’ve told you a thousand times, buying it for myself takes the fun out of it.”
“But finding it for yourself doesn’t?”
“I told you, Wynn. The ring found me.” And the right man would buy the ring for her and they’d both live happily ever after. Just as soon as she found him.
“Back to the point, what did you learn at the brunch?”
The vision of her beautiful ring disappeared. “Nothing. It’s weird. They didn’t share anything personal. She has a sister though.”
Poppy and Wynn had done internet searches on Emmy and her parents, whose names were on the invitation, but hadn’t gotten any relevant information. Her mother’s name hadn’t gotten any hits and her father only showed up on the board of directors for a charitable organization, but the site merely said he was a Seattle-based businessman. Grace provided a new and untried option.
“Then let’s search for her.”
Poppy dug her phone out of the clutch and opened a browser before typing in Grace Burnham. Maybe Grace would be one of those twenty-somethings who posted their entire lives online. Friends, enemies, loves and a stream of pictures displaying every activity she’d ever participated in from the age of fifteen on, hopefully with running commentary.
She got one hit, a single Facebook page that was definitely Grace. Poppy recognized the blond hair even from the minuscule photo, but access was restricted to friends only. Poppy sent a friend request.
“It’ll probably come to nothing,” she told Wynn. “Judging from the rest of the family, I find it unlikely she’s going to list her workplace and income for public consumption.”
“Probably,” Wynn agreed, “but it won’t hurt.” He pulled out his own phone and punched the screen.
“Don’t waste your time,” Poppy told him. “I only got one hit.” Not even a Twitter account or an old MySpace page.
“I’m not looking for her.” He tapped the screen a few more times, then in his best news anchor’s voice began to read. “‘He dines at Seattle’s finest restaurants, has a bachelor pad worthy of Bond and has a personal net worth in the millions.’” He glanced up at Poppy. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m talking about your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Poppy said, reaching for Wynn’s phone. He was a little taller than her, but she was willing to fight dirty and she knew he wasn’t. She grabbed the leg of his pants and twisted, leaving behind a mess of wrinkles.
“Poppy,” Wynn said, handing over his phone as he brushed his pant legs. “You’re going to have to iron these now.”
It was a small price to pay. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she reiterated even as she scanned the article Wynn had pulled up.
She wasn’t researching Beck, not exactly. She was just reading what someone else had discovered. Like the fact that Beck had taken over running the family business the previous year and the hotel group had shown an increase of ten percent from last year’s financial statements to this year’s.
“Oh?” Wynn’s sly smile returned. “You seem rather interested and you are wearing his clothes. Are you sure nothing happened back at the lake?”
Poppy closed the web browser on both phones and handed Wynn’s back to him, hoping the prickling in her cheeks was nothing more than a healthy tingle because she’d used a facial scrub this morning. It wasn’t.
“You’re getting red. Something did happen. Tell Uncle Wynn.”
“Okay, first off, ew. Don’t call yourself my uncle, that’s creepy. Second, there’s nothing to tell. We kissed, that’s all.”
“You kissed?” Poppy appreciated that Wynn didn’t throw himself into a paroxysm of joy or shock the way her mother and sister would have. But his excited grin was almost as bad. “And then what?”
“And then nothing. I slipped, fell in the water and had to change.” She would not talk about the shower. “I’m not here to meet someone, Wynn. This is about Jamie, remember?” She twisted a strand of hair around her finger and let it unravel before pushing herself off the bed. She needed to change before she got too comfortable wearing Beck’s things. “I need to make sure Jamie isn’t being taken advantage of. Beck’s helping me, that’s all.”
“It doesn’t sound like that’s all.”
Poppy flipped her hair and grabbed the dress off the bed. “I can’t help it if you hear things that aren’t there. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She turned to head to the bathroom since Wynn seemed happy to make himself comfortable in her bedroom the rest of the day.
“You may go.” Wynn saw her out of the room with a gracious wave. “But this conversation isn’t over.”
And as she expected, he was waiting to pounce when she reentered her bedroom with Beck’s clothing neatly folded in her arms. “Are you going to sleep with him?”
“Clearly, you’ve been letting Cami get inside your head and make herself at home.” Poppy laid the clothing on top of her dresser. She’d have to contact Beck later to organize their return, and didn’t that give her a lovely little rush.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“Because there’s nothing to answer. He’s helping me with Jamie. Nothing else.”
“I think you should,” Wynn said, completely ignoring her explanation. “It would be good for you to get back in the saddle, as it were.”
Since this was the same discussion they’d been having for months, Poppy didn’t feel bad for tuning him out. He would say she should try out casual sex, she would explain she wasn’t that kind of person, he would say she wouldn’t know until she tried, and she would say she didn’t need to try to know. Also, casual sex wasn’t like trying escargot. It could have repercussions. Big ones.
No, she wasn’t into casual sex. She didn’t expect the guy to get down on one knee the first time he met her or anything, but there should at least be hope for a mutually satisfying relationship.
And for her, that meant more than just heating up the sheets.
CHAPTER NINE
BECK GLANCED UP when he heard the knock on the door. His muscles tensed for one second and then Jamie’s blond head appeared. “Hey. Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Beck closed the laptop he’d been working on. He wasn’t doing anything, just checking his email. “Where’s Emmy?” This was one of the few times he’d seen them separated. It was kind of odd, actually. Somehow with their golden-couple status, they’d become linked in his mind.
“She’s with her mom and Grace, looking at magazines.”
“And you’re not looking too?”
Jamie frowned. “I’m not completely henpecked. Just a little.”
Beck laughed, long and loud. He’d forgotten that despite his sweetness, Jamie was entirely capable of getting in a jab or three. It had been too long since he’d spent time with his cousin. “Want some coffee?”
“In a minute.” Jamie took the seat across the table from Beck and folded his hands. “You coming to dinner tonight?”
“No.” Brunch was enough. He was not doing the family dinner as well. Emmy’s family wouldn’t be around, so Beck’s attendance wasn’t mandatory. He told Jamie he planned to spend the evening eating pizza and watching the game on TV.
“Your mom won’t like that.”
“She’ll get over it. Want to join me?”
“Absolutely.” They grinned at each other.
“S
o the brunch and Poppy. You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Not really.” He wasn’t about to share with Jamie that Poppy was worried his fiancée was only after him for his money. And instead of telling her about Emmy’s financial stability, he’d let her keep believing the worst.
“So it’s nothing?”
“I wouldn’t say nothing.” It would be something if he got his way. But he had no guarantee of that, though the kiss they’d shared earlier certainly hinted it might be.
“Then what’s going on?”
“She entertains me,” Beck said, hoping it would be enough to get Detective Jamie off the case. He wasn’t sure what was going on with him and Poppy. But it wasn’t something he felt like figuring out now, with his cousin hanging on every word.
Part of it was he wasn’t used to women turning him down. Not that he spent his time with a different woman every night, but he didn’t do too badly in the dating sweepstakes. And perhaps that was part of the problem.
He was bored.
The women in his circles offered no challenge, throwing themselves into his lap, and their behavior didn’t make him want to get to know them any better either.
It wasn’t like that with Poppy.
Not only did she refuse to throw herself at him, she actively threw herself away from him. But he saw the look in her eyes and sensed the way she responded to him. That spark between them had never died.
“You know I love Poppy. She’s one of my best friends,” Jamie said.
“And?”
“And I don’t want her to get hurt.” Jamie’s gaze didn’t waver. “She’s nice, Beck.”
“Yeah.” He smiled, thinking just how nice she’d looked in his shower this morning.
“She’s not like the other women you date.”
Beck blinked, losing the unannounced staring contest. How did Jamie know what kind of women he dated? And why did he care? “What does that mean?”
“It means she’s not a bimbo looking for a spot on the social pages.” Beck and his dates were often featured in newspapers and online.
Not Another Wedding Page 9
