Well, maybe the gym, but definitely not the treadmill. The pool, or racquetball courts, or anything but the treadmill. Better yet, she could get out and explore one of the trails around Park City that she’d never been on in this beautiful fall weather. Slade’s philosophy on exercise had ruined her for the treadmill forever. Aw, who was she kidding? The short-lived, abusive relationship with the treadmill had been over before it started. Luckily, she found a good guy to get her out of it before she did herself some serious damage.
Was he a good guy, though? Could a good guy hurt her like Slade had less than a week ago? Part of her wanted to hear an explanation of why he wouldn’t stop pushing. Could it be just to humiliate her further? Or was he lying about being heterosexual? If she did ever give him the chance he was begging for to explain himself, she imagined he would just hurt her worse.
Of course, it could be something as simple as money. He wouldn’t be the first to assume that she had access to her father’s mega-fortune. While she had everything she needed, and then some, her personal finances were a disaster, having sunk nearly everything into setting up Two Hearts. At least she didn’t need much to get by. Her parents had covered the cost of her schooling, and she still lived at home. Or lived at home again. At twenty-four years old, as if she wasn’t a big enough loser already.
But, if Slade was after her father’s billions, why hadn’t he pushed for a relationship rather than pushing her away?
Slade’s philosophy wasn’t the only thing that wouldn’t stop running through her mind. Those incredibly blue eyes and rugged features. The hair that she still didn’t know how she’d resisted running her hands through. And those muscles. If she ever ran into him again she would not let the opportunity of a flex test pass.
Over the years, Poppy had seen plenty of hot guys. Somehow this one had connected with her from the first glimpse when their eyes had taken care of introductions and gotten past the awkward get-to-know-you phase. His personality, so easy to talk to and so confident, had deepened the connection not only to something she never thought she’d feel, but something she was pretty sure she didn’t deserve to feel.
As she picked up the croissant sandwich and took a bite, the gate bell rang. Within seconds, Anita, the housekeeper, said into the intercom, “May I help you.”
“I’m here to see … Poppy?”
Though it lacked the confidence she’d always heard from him, there was no mistaking Slade’s voice. But he obviously wondered if he was at the right house. The right mansion.
How in the world …?
“Do you have an appointment, sir?”
“No,” said Slade. “She was at our fire station yesterday morning and, um …”
He was flopping bad. No match for Anita, who waited, letting him flounder.
“Can you please tell her Slade is here? Slade Powers.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Powers. You’ll have to set up an appointment.”
Poppy found herself standing over Anita’s shoulder. With a glance, Anita asked her if the response had been correct. Poppy only had a second to decide. As sweet as it was to watch him flounder, soon Slade would be backing out and driving away. Possibly forever? Or were they really like the waves and the beach?
She had to at least find out how he had tracked her down and how he’d even gotten into the gated neighborhood.
Let him in¸ she mouthed, nodding.
“Actually, sir, it appears that Poppy will see you.” She pressed the button to open the gate up to the mansion.
Poppy looked over her shoulder to make sure her mother hadn’t heard Anita calling her that. There would most likely be consequences if she caught an employee using Poppy’s nickname.
After a quick dash to the bathroom to check her hair and the little bit of makeup she wore, Poppy went back to her breakfast. By the time the doorbell rang, she was mostly finished. Anita appeared at the door summons, but Poppy waved her away, let a few seconds pass, then pulled the massive front door open.
Slade stood there in jeans and a t-shirt, looking as flexy as ever. Poppy ordered herself not to reach out for his hair or his biceps. As soon as he saw her, he smiled, and it looked genuine, looked similar to how she felt seeing him. His eyes traced the outline of the humongous door. “I actually expected Willy Wonka’s candy garden when this thing opened.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“Are you kidding? I would have been crushed if you hadn’t been standing there smiling.”
Careful, girl. You don’t know where this is heading. Still she smiled hugely. The best smile in the world he had said. That made her blush. “How’d you find me?”
“What? Everyone knows the Mercier mansion. Or is this technically a palace?”
With a smirk on her face, Poppy studied him. She could tell he was making a joke about everyone knowing the Mercier mansion because, well, somehow she just knew with him. On top of that he had slaughtered her last name. Maybe he really didn’t have an indication of who her family was. His confusion on the intercom and obvious surprise at the opulence of her parents’ house did not seem to be an act. “The Mercier mansion, huh?” She copied his very Americanized version of her last name. If she had repeated it with the correct, French pronunciation—Mare-see-eh— he most likely would have recognized the name from Mercier Media. No point in telling him.
She asked, “How’d you even get past the community gates?”
Slade leaned in, but still didn’t cross the threshold. “Firefighters know secrets about getting into places.”
“You hacked our code? No, that’s not what firefighters would do. I bet you guys have a book with all the codes of the communities in case there is an emergency!”
“Actually we do, but I wasn’t expecting anything like this, so I didn’t look it up beforehand.”
“You expected the … Mercier mansion to be less-mansiony?” Using the incorrect pronunciation of her last name took concentration.
“Less palatial for sure.”
Poppy was well aware he was still standing on the porch, uninvited. She still had to decide if he would remain so, or if his status would change. Everything about him looked perfect; if she allowed him in, she didn’t know if she could resist getting too close to the fireman and getting burned. Then again, if she did let him in, her mother would send him running. Problem solved.
“So, how’d you do it?”
“It’s easy really. The gates have to open for cars to leave, right? How does it detect a car that wants to get out?”
Poppy had no idea, and felt like it showed on her face.
“Magnets,” said Slade. “They detect a big metal thing on the asphalt above them. It’s not hard to fool them by throwing any ol’ two-ton piece of metal onto the asphalt above them.”
“That’s where those muscles come from.” Poppy nodded in understanding. “Throwing two-ton heavy things over gated community gates.”
“Or a shovel,” confessed Slade. “That usually do the trick.”
“A shovel defeated our high-tech security.”
“Well,” he said, “a shovel and a brilliant, problem-solving mind determined to overcome any obstacle. Have I proven myself? At least earned a chance to talk to you?”
Poppy wanted to shout Yes! but restrained herself. “I’ll let you in if you tell me how you found out where I live.”
“Daria.”
“That little—”
“If it makes you feel any better, she was super reluctant. And she didn’t warn me about the gates, or any of the other obstacles, like the Sphinx gauntlet or the Bridge of Death. It’s just a good thing I remembered my favorite color or I’d still be plummeting into the Gorge of Eternal Peril.”
Poppy was just shy of laughing out loud and in that moment, she believed that she might actually have the best smile in the world. She nodded him in with her head.
As Slade came in, he checked out the chandelier, the ornate crown molding, marble staircase, 20-foot gothic pillars, and custom woodwork ever
ywhere. “Also, I now understand Daria’s self-satisfied grin. I thought she was just finding humor in selling you out. Now I realize she was laughing at my ignorance of the Herculean task she’d set before me.”
They walked into the kitchen and Poppy picked up the last of her breakfast. “You hungry? I was just finishing.”
“Nah, I had some toast at the station.”
From behind Poppy, someone asked, “The station?” It was Poppy’s mother. Oh good, if he wasn’t going to get the details of her past, at least he would meet her very accepting and considerate mother.
“This is Slade,” said Poppy. “He works at the fire station that had the pig party the other night.”
Her mother made a sour face, which didn’t change as she sized him up. Here it came. Poppy would see his cute little backside as he stormed away. But instead of giving her honest opinion to Slade, her mother looked at the last bite of Poppy’s breakfast.
“Really. Is that the best choice in breakfast, considering …” She looked down at Poppy’s hips then back up into her face. “Anita would be happy to prepare some fresh fruit or a lo-cal smoothie. And I know you don’t think highly of yourself, but a fireman? Even after everything you’ve … been through, even you can do better than a fireman.”
Slade’s eyes grew slightly wide, but Poppy took it in stride. It wasn’t the first time her mother had humiliated her in front of a guy, and it was far from the worst. She hadn’t used the words ‘fat’, ‘sexual indiscretions’, or ‘loser’—either in reference to her or to the guy. So overall, a win.
But Mother wasn’t done. With a sickly sweet smile she said to Slade, “I’m sure you are a perfectly decent individual, but I recommend keeping your distance. My daughter is obviously out of your league in every fashion, er, except physique. She may condescend to dally for a bit, but we all know nothing could ever last between the likes of you.”
If that didn’t scare him away, then he deserved a chance to explain his insane actions. “Mother, please don’t presume too much. Slade just wanted to stop by and discuss the six little piggies. We’ll be in the gardens.” She motioned him toward one of the sun rooms off the back of the house.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” said Slade.
What a liar. Poppy couldn’t remember the last time someone could honestly say that to her mother.
She offered a snooty, “Mm-hm,” and went out of the kitchen through a different door.
As Poppy and Slade entered the sun room, she took his hand. Maybe for her own support, maybe for his. They had both survived Mother, so they probably both needed it. His hand was large and rough, which she liked. So many of the men her mother thought were in her league couldn’t live without a weekly manicure.
Slade jerked when she touched him and hesitated, then quickly melted and tightened the weave of their fingers.
“Now you know where I get my charming personality,” said Poppy.
A little bit slower than she had become accustomed to, he replied, “And your carefree attitude.” He glanced down at their hands, as if confused what was happening. The deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes was priceless.
“Seriously, though, I hope she didn’t offend you.” She led him out of the sun room and across the porch toward the stairs.
“Are you kidding? For the chance to explain myself to you, I got off easy.” He gave her hand a squeeze.
Poppy felt her lips split in an automatic grin. Slade was watching for it out of the corner of his eye—she was sure of it—and it felt like a tiny jolt of electricity flowed from his hand to hers in some unexpected feedback loop. She smiled, he saw it, and released a pleasure zap, which only made her smile bigger, which he watched for, and reacted to. If it kept up much longer she’d be on the ground seizing like a Taser victim.
He spoke again. “Besides, I’ve been treated worse at the station for months, and those guys technically like me.”
Poppy chuckled and turned away to break the feedback loop. Better to deprive him of her smile than to give up his hand. The plan had been to get in the clinic early today, but Daria wouldn’t be expecting her until nine. And if she had to manage things a little longer until Poppy showed up, it was her own fault. Giving this irresistible man Poppy’s home address. What was she thinking? How long could Poppy be expected to hold on before opening herself up for another rejection?
“So you want to date me?” She kept a hand locked in his, and ran the other up his arm and over his bicep. It went even tauter at her touch. He hadn’t been flexing all along after all. Then again, that didn’t rule the possibility of a constant state of semi-flex. More experimentation—hands on, of course—would be needed.
“I’m not the dating type,” said Slade. “I haven’t even been on a date since before the Army.”
“So what’s your deal?” It felt a bit harsh, but she had to know, even if it wrecked her.
“You guys actually have gardens here?” They had crossed the lawn and were entering the rows of immaculately trimmed flowers and hedges.
The deflection stung, and Poppy found herself wishing she didn’t like this guy so much.
“This is right out of Pride and Prejudice,” said Slade.
“Big fan of Jane Austen?”
“Oh, I meant Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Of course.”
“Of course. Yes my parents have gardens. But I don’t know if my father realizes it. He doesn’t spend much time here.”
“In the gardens?”
“At home.”
Slade nodded. “Looks like a pretty rough life, twenty-four and still living with your parents.”
The joking tone was subtle, but she picked it right up. He couldn’t know that living at home was on her list of things that made her feel like she’d never really succeed at anything, so she rolled with it. “I know right. They are so mean, they only let me drive the Porsche. I can’t even take out the Ferrari.”
“The injustice,” said Slade. “Some people have no business being parents.”
Like always, well, since the first time they had a chance to talk, they got each other perfectly. Except for his one boneheaded, breakup statement.
“Is your mom always so … I don’t even know what words would be accurate and non-offensive.”
“I’ll help you out. Don’t say anything at all because there aren’t a lot of nice things to say.” The unanswered questions of why she stuck around hung in the air. “I love my mom. I mean, she’s my mom, right? She wants me to be my best and she cares enough to take the effort to relentlessly try to get me to work on it. It’s not like she tells me a whole lot I don’t already know. Do I wish she would keep a lot of it to herself? Yeah, of course. But that’s life. And I’ve said a whole lot so it’s time for you to get back on topic, Tangent Man. What’s your deal?”
His grip loosened, and Poppy gave him his hand back. And his arm. You just leave his face and hair alone, Poppy. Let him talk for one minute.
“First of all, I’m pretty sure that rolling with all of that makes you a good person. A lot of people would be bitter or resentful. Second of all, what do you mean what’s my deal?”
“Don’t play that, Slade. You felt the connection when we saw each other in the gym the first time. And every time we’ve been together since then. You insist I spend time with you, then you act disgusted by the possibility of physical contact or a relationship.”
This time he was the one to reach out and join hands. “Do I look disgusted?”
She wanted to lean in and get even closer. “Okay, reluctant then. How is a girl supposed to feel about that?”
For a few seconds, Slade nodded as if making up his mind.
“Fine. I’ve been hurt before.” He pursed his lips, clucked his tongue, and said clearly, “Jenny. We were together all through high school, we were perfect for each other. Everybody said so. It was going to last forever, no one doubted that. We both have—had?—I don’t know, have a history of military service going back three or four generat
ions, so before we got married we both knew the right thing for me to do was join up, get through basic training and Officer Candidate School, then whether we decided on active duty or reserves, we would have honored the legacy in both of our families. It was supposed to bind us even closer together, and it was as if the hand of God had ordained it.” For a little while, they just walked slowly, hand in hand. “I’ll tell you how strongly I felt the call to military service: it was almost as right as being with Jenny, and I don’t know how I can say anything has ever felt more right than that.”
Poppy couldn’t say she understood that sort of feeling, having never been in love like that before, but she had an idea where the story was heading.
“Very long story short—”
“Too late,” Poppy interjected with a smile.
Slade chuckled. “I blame you for asking to begin with. Anyway, during OCS you can guess what happened.”
“I’m tempted to say you got a soul-crushing Dear John letter, but alien abduction and brainwashing of your Jenny seems much more likely. You two were Fate personified after all.”
“Yeah, and you don’t believe in fate. It’s been over six years. I’ve never told anyone how much it hurt, never really talked about it at all. Just acted like it was somehow God’s plan and therefore it was fine, meanwhile in private I shook my fist at God and pointed my anger His direction. The anguish you feel in the secret pockets of your soul, never seen by anyone who’s not you.”
Poppy could definitely identify with those pains. “Listen to you. You are a poet.”
“Don’t confuse therapy poetry with being a poet.”
Poppy pulled him down beside her onto a garden bench, their bodies pressed against each other from knee to shoulder.
“And so that’s it? You’ll never love again, Princess Buttercup?”
He was trying to suppress his smile, but finally it broke free and he said dramatically, “You mock my pain.” After exhaling sharply, he said, “I can’t. My heart is useless now. I trusted someone with my heart and had to pay.”
Two Hearts Rescue: Park City Firefighter Romance Page 8
