Not Another Wedding

by Jennifer Mckenzie

  “I don’t want to.” He sounded petulant, like a crabby three-year-old who needed a nap. He felt like one, too.

  Poppy rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth. “You should anyway.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He bent down and kissed her more thoroughly. None of this hunt-and-peck stuff for him. She wasn’t getting off that lightly. Especially not if she wanted him to give his parents’ relationship a chance.

  Since that thought put a damper on the whole kissing-her aspect, he shoved it away. He didn’t want his parents tainting what the two of them had, even if their little tryst did have a built-in end date. Her hands slid up his back and tangled in his hair, curling the ends around her fingers.

  He groaned into her mouth. He loved when she played with his hair. She responded by pressing up against him more tightly. If it got any hotter they might burst into flames in the parking lot.

  “It’s hot,” she murmured against his mouth.

  His temperature spiked. “So hot.” She was smoking, scorching. He couldn’t think of any more adjectives, and he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay here, kissing Poppy and not thinking about anything.

  “No.” She pulled back a little. “It’s hot. I’m going to burn.”

  He looked down. Her shoulders were a little pink. “Ready to accept the redhead banner yet?”

  She poked him in the chest. “Auburns can burn, too.”

  “I like redheads.” He nipped the little spot under her ear, gratified when she shivered against him. “They’re sexy.”

  “That’s fine. My hair is still not red.”

  He laughed. “Come on, Red. Let’s get you out of the sun before you turn into a flamingo.”

  “A flamingo?” She laughed and got into the car when he opened the door. “All the pink things in the world and you come up with a flamingo?”

  “What should I have said?” He started the car, enjoying the low purr of the engine. He revved the gas once before putting it into gear. “Hello Kitty?”

  “No, but surely I’m more attractive than a flamingo. Also, I’m not burned yet.”

  “So you’re up for a swim at my place?”

  She sent him a coy glance—she was thinking about it. “I don’t have my suit with me.”

  “So?”

  “So I am not skinny-dipping in your parents’ pool.”

  “We’ll stop and get your suit.” He placed a hand on her thigh, running his fingers up and down the creamy smoothness. “My vote is for a bikini. Preferably a pink one.”

  “Sorry to break the news, but you don’t get a vote. Also, my bikini is not pink.”

  “Blue? Yellow? Green? I’m an equal-opportunity kind of guy when it comes to bikinis.”

  “How unusual. Most men are very particular about the hue of a woman’s swimsuit. And really, anything in spandex.”

  “I’m the easygoing type.” He slid his hand a little higher. “You’re the one who said you needed a swimsuit.”

  She laughed but didn’t move his hand. “Appealing as getting caught in the nude by your mom is, I can’t.” She sounded disappointed, which pleased him. “I need to get back. Spend some time with my mother.”

  He was disappointed, too. Now that he had the image of Poppy in a string bikini swimming through his mind, it wouldn’t go away. “You sure?”

  He liked that she considered it. Liked it a lot. Her answer, he wasn’t such a fan of.

  “Yes. She misses me. I don’t get back often, only a few times a year, so she likes to jam in as much togetherness as she can.”

  There was a funny pinch in his chest. She thought a few times a year wasn’t often? “But I’ll still see you later?”

  “Sure.” She reached out to run a finger along his jaw. “Or...what have you got planned this afternoon?”

  Besides hide out from his family? Even though the wedding-dress drama was over, the big house would still be a busy place. According to Jamie, the whole group had gotten together for lunch and wanted him to join them. He could try to seek shelter at the guesthouse, but it would be a temporary solution. Someone would notice his car in the driveway and come down to drag him up.

  “Not much.” He should probably drive into town and set up at a coffee shop. He didn’t have his laptop, but his phone would allow him to check his email and read the paper.

  “Did you want to hang out with me?” She turned her head to face him, her red hair fanning out on the seat. The sun caught in the bright strands. “You’re welcome to join us.”

  “Yes.” He didn’t have to think long. The choice between dealing with his family and Poppy’s was a no-brainer. He navigated the car around one of the twisty corners, edging over when a car coming in the opposite direction veered slightly into his lane. “Sounds great.”

  “Really?” He glanced over and found her smiling. Did she honestly think he would turn down the chance to spend time with her?

  “Yes, really. Sounds like fun.” He placed his hand back on her leg after his nifty driving maneuver, letting it drift higher.

  “Okay.” She crossed her legs, trapping his hand between them. “So you’re up for the challenge?”

  “I’m up for something.”

  She laughed. “I mean my family. They can kind of be a lot to take.”

  He thought about her family. He didn’t know them well, but from what he’d seen he liked them. They were cheerful and noisy and involved in each other’s business. Pretty much the opposite of his own.

  “I can take it,” he assured her. Was looking forward to it, he realized with a little bullet of shock. He didn’t spend time with families. Not his own or others. He’d like to observe how a functional, happy one worked.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  He insisted on stopping in at a little grocery store that sold homemade pies when Poppy mentioned they were her mother’s favorites. He thought the gesture might win him an invitation to stay through dinner.

  He was right.

  “Oh, Beck. These are my favorites. How did you know?” Rose’s smile was as open and affectionate as her daughter’s.

  “I told him, Mom,” Poppy said. “Did you think he was psychic?”

  Rose laughed and put the pies off to the side so they wouldn’t get damaged. Or eaten. “It was very thoughtful, Beck. I hope this means you’ll stay for dinner.”

  “I’d love to,” Beck answered. Poppy smiled at him, a smile that did something to his insides. He’d have grabbed her and kissed the smile right off her face if her mother hadn’t been watching.

  “We’re doing casual. Bob will barbecue and I’ll make sides. Nothing fancy.” Rose had a mound of vegetables on the counter beside a wooden cutting board. “Why don’t you two go and sit out back while I finish.” She shooed away their offers to help, insisting she would be quicker on her own but promising them cleanup duty.

  “You won’t have to do that,” Poppy said as she led Beck out the backdoor of the kitchen and onto a wide stone patio. “She meant me.”

  “I don’t mind helping.” Okay, he hadn’t done a whole lot of cleaning up in his life. By the time he’d been old enough to help around the house, the family company was well in the black and they had a service come in twice a week. He had a similar setup in his penthouse condo in Seattle now.

  The Sullivans’ property wasn’t as large as the one Beck’s family held down by the lake, or Jamie’s up on the bluff, but it was big compared to city living. A small vineyard ran down the slope away from the house. Poppy said her dad used the grapes to make his own private reserve. “You’ll know he likes you if he brings out a bottle. He treats that stuff like gold.”

  “I’ll be sure to be on my best behavior.”

  She sent him a teasing look. “Not too good. I might not recognize you.”


  Between the grapevines and the house was an inground pool surrounded by a glass wall, and an expansive lawn that rolled around the side of the house. As Beck took it all in, a tiny redheaded girl came tearing around the corner, Wynn hot on her tail. The pair of them had their arms out to their sides and Wynn made loud zooming noises while she screamed in delight.

  Her screams increased in pitch and volume when she spotted them. “Auntie Pop-pop!” She flung her little body at Poppy’s legs, almost knocking her down, and then did the same to Beck. “Hi.”

  He wasn’t used to being around kids, but he said hello.

  “This noisy beast is my niece, Holly. She takes after her mother.” Poppy reached out to tickle her niece, who screamed, giggled and ran behind Beck’s legs.

  Beck was afraid to move in case he stepped on her and crushed her. But he shifted quickly when Holly tried to wedge her head between his thighs to see what her aunt was doing. “Whoa.” He put a hand on her head to hold her in place while he stepped around.

  Clearly used to this type of attention from the adults in her life, Holly turned her face up to him, her blue eyes shining with happiness, and began a garbled explanation of planes and Wynn.

  “We were flying,” Wynn clarified as he walked over. Despite the fact he’d been running in the hot sun, his white pants and matching blazer looked as if he’d just stepped out of an air-conditioned office.

  Holly tugged on Beck’s pant leg, demanding his attention, and continued her cheerful account. It seemed her dad had taken her to watch the planes land and now she wanted to be a plane.

  “I can fly planes,” Beck told her, pleased when her tiny face lit up. She clambered into his lap when he sat down on one of the loungers and commanded he tell her more.

  “Holly,” Poppy chided. “You don’t tell people what to do, you ask politely.” She tried to pull Holly off him, but Beck shook his head he didn’t mind.

  “Planes,” Holly said. “I like planes.”

  “Me, too.” He tried not to bore her with details of plane dimensions or the equipment a pilot relied on if visibility was bad, instead focusing on how much fun it was in the air, free of constraints, where it was only him and the sky.

  He glanced over at Poppy, who smiled at them, and felt a tug in his chest.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “WOW.”

  Poppy blinked when Wynn spoke, suddenly aware she’d been watching Beck and her niece far too closely. She seriously considered checking her chin for drool, but that would be admitting she’d been gawking. She went for polite interest instead. “Yes?”

  “Don’t ‘yes’ me.” Wynn rolled his eyes and sent her an I-know-you-too-well-to-be-fooled-by-your-pathetic-attempt-at-nonchalance look. “I see you.”

  “I’m not hiding.” She hadn’t even changed out of her golf clothes yet.

  “So we’re playing it this way, are we?”

  She nodded. “Though I feel it’s my duty to tell you I’m not playing anything.”

  “No need to tell me. It’s plenty obvious.” Wynn’s eyes saw far too deep into hers and she dropped her gaze, pulse pumping. “What are their names?”

  “Whose names?” Poppy lifted her ponytail off the back of her neck and fanned.

  “The hypothetical children you’re going to have with him.”

  Poppy fanned faster and forced a laugh. “I have no idea.” But she totally did. Oliver for a boy and Eloise for a girl.

  “Right.”

  She hadn’t fooled Wynn. Not even a little. But she shrugged anyway. It would be worse to own up to it, because he’d tell her family everything and she’d never hear the end of it. Though there was a chance that would happen anyway.

  Fortunately, whatever other bit of wisdom Wynn was poised to share was cut short when her mother came out the backdoor carrying a massive tray with a full pitcher of lemonade and glasses.

  “Let me help.” Beck was already out of the lounger, careful to put Holly down safely, and rescuing the laden tray before it smashed all over the patio.

  “Thank you, Beck.” Rose beamed at him. Poppy wondered if Beck was aware how many points he was scoring. Judging from the pleased curve of his lips? Yes.

  They sat together under the shaded back. Her dad had built a pergola years ago and her mother had grown vines up and over it, creating a scented overhead garden. It was nice to be back there now, sipping lemonade and watching Holly race around.

  Her niece had convinced Beck to join her plane games and the two of them were rushing from one end of the yard to the other in a race to finish first. It wasn’t much of a contest, but occasionally Beck fell over or pretended to get turned around so Holly could hustle past him, little legs and arms pumping.

  “He seems nice,” her mother said, shading her eyes as she watched them.

  “He is nice,” Poppy said.

  “Poppy’s in love,” Wynn added to the conversation, only raising an eyebrow when Poppy glared. “What? Do I lie?”

  “In fact, you do. Often and not well.” She rose from her chair, not willing or able to have this conversation right now. Not when she wasn’t sure what she or he wanted from this. “I’m going to change.” Her golf clothes were sticky and she wasn’t up to facing the duo of her mother and best friend.

  Upstairs, she ran some cold water over a facecloth and laid it on the back of her neck before she went into her bedroom to find something to wear. Too casual and Wynn would think she was overcompensating. Too dressy and he’d think she was trying to get Beck’s interest.

  She settled on a loose off-the-shoulder number in aquamarine with an elastic waist so the top bloused out. It showed off a lot of leg, but it was hot today. And she was only too glad to strip off the bra and let the girls run free.

  When she let herself back outside, hair twisted into a knot on top of her head, Beck glanced over. It was like being blasted directly by the sun. She was glad to have the outside temperature as an excuse for why her cheeks were so rosy. Not that either her mother or Wynn asked. They just assumed.

  “See?” Wynn said when Poppy sat back down. “Love.”

  “Stop it,” Poppy said, and fixed the edge of her dress. “You’re putting visions of wedding gowns and bouquets in her head and she’s only going to be disappointed.”

  Wynn looked from Poppy to Beck and back. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  Poppy ignored the birdlike flutter of possibility in her chest. She hadn’t come up here to find a husband. Of course, it would be nice, but she was practical. “We’re friends.”

  “Friends?”

  Even her mother snorted at that. “You spent the night with him.”

  “Seriously? I was quiet. I made no noise when I sneaked up the stairs.”

  “Not that quiet.”

  Well then. Poppy took a long sip of lemonade and prayed her face didn’t look as red as it felt. She was glad when they seemed to drop their interrogation, but she should have known better.

  They were stealthy, stealthier than she was, and simply changed tack. Instead of trying to pin Poppy down on what her future plans were with Beck, and whether her colors would be Blush and Bashful or pink and pink—as if, she was all about black and white—they indulged their curiosity by picking Beck’s brain.

  He impressed her with how he managed their questions. He didn’t get ruffled or irritated, but answered them thoughtfully and thoroughly. Everything from where he lived and how he spent his free time, to how excited he was about Jamie’s upcoming wedding.

  “They seem happy,” Beck said as he slung an arm around Poppy’s shoulders. They were all on the patio now, including her father, who’d finally returned from the golf course, and Cami, who’d shown up refreshed from a nap with Hank in tow.

  All of them, save Hank and her father, had their faces turned eagerly in B
eck’s direction as though he was about to tell them the secret to success. That, or they were taking note of the casual arm over her shoulder and drawing certain conclusions.

  Since Poppy worried shrugging it off would only draw more attention to it, she allowed the arm to stay put. She was such a pal, taking one for the team. And when her own wispy sigh tried to creep up and out, she reminded herself that she and Beck hadn’t talked about the future.

  The problem was, she wanted to believe they had one, and that his arm around her shoulders meant something. They’d created this ruse to fool his mother, but that didn’t explain why he perpetuated it here at her house where they had no chance of being seen by anyone else.

  She got her chance to ask him about it after dinner when she and Beck were cleaning up the kitchen. Cami and Hank had packed up Holly and headed for home. Cami was tired and uncomfortable and only wanted to soak her feet in a cool bath, while Holly had barely been able to keep her eyes open. Too much flying, Poppy suspected.

  She’d sent Wynn off to visit with her parents since he’d already helped grill, while she and Beck washed the dishes that couldn’t go in the dishwasher and wrapped up leftovers.

  He had fit in so well with her family. Seamlessly, as if he’d been one of them for years. It was dangerous, letting him get too close to them and to her. She tried to keep her tone light.

  “So, what’s with the love act?” she asked, securing plastic wrap over a bowl of potato salad and carrying it to the fridge. The cool air from the appliance rushed across her skin, eliminating any flush that might have resulted from her bluntness.

  “Act?” He paused, holding one dish in hand, the other wrapped in a tea towel.

  She nodded and made room for the bowl, sliding it onto the bottom shelf. “You don’t have to pretend around my family. You can just be yourself.”

  “I was being myself.” He placed the dish in the drying rack after a quick swipe with the towel and turned to face her.

  Poppy reminded herself it was in her best interest to clarify what was going on between them. “I meant, you don’t have to keep up the pretense we’re dating.”