Catching Sparks (Cherry Peak Book 2)

Poppy’sfront door is in front of me. I’ve been staring at it for five minutes, trying to convince myself to get back in the truck and drive far, far away. This is a terrible idea. One of the worst I’ve had in years to date.

But I grip the handle anyway. It’s unlocked like I knew it would be. She sent me a message just as I pulled up, informing me that she broke my orders only to slip out of bed and unlock it. My palm burns with the need to punish her for it, to cover her pretty ass with red handprints.

Sucking in a long breath through my nose, I step inside the small entryway and lock the door behind me, slipping off my shoes. I attempt to calm myself with a sweep of my gaze over the small living room and kitchen. It’s impossible not to notice all of the imperfections and lack of things that I would consider essential for day-to-day life. Like a coffee machine that doesn’t require you to fill a filter with grounds or even a dishwasher. The rack beside the sink full of clean, hand-washed dishes is something I haven’t seen since I was a boy.

Despite how out of date everything is, the place is clean and organized. Functional in a way I can appreciate. I’ve never been one for messes, not mine or others.