21. Wyatt
21
Wyatt
“ M r. Mathers…”
Poppy’s voice drifts from the next room, and I glance up from where I’m adjusting the cuffs of my shirt. She’s taken to calling me Mr. Mathers again. Whether that’s because we’re around Bailey or because of what happened at the pool, I don’t know.
God, I can’t let myself think about what happened at the pool. I can’t let myself remember the way her skin felt under my hands, hot and smooth, the way she moaned when I let my fingers slide over her ass cheeks, the way she breathed, Yes, I need it there . I’ve never been so attracted to someone in all my life, and it’s making me behave badly. But with her in that bikini sitting by the pool, away from our real lives… it felt like we were in another world. One without consequences. That’s the only reason I can think of for my unbelievable lack of judgment. For letting myself touch her, despite knowing how wrong it is.
And the way she told me she wanted it as much as I did… hell. A better man would have gone home by now, but I can’t do that. Not after she spent her money for me to go to the awards ceremony tonight. Not when I’ve picked out the perfect dress for her.
Maybe it’s selfish, choosing to stay. Choosing to take her with me tonight anyway, even though nothing can happen between us. Bailey’s delighted that I’m taking Poppy to the awards ceremony, saying she hasn’t had a good night out like that in forever, and that’s what I’m clinging to. That I’m doing this for her. For both of them.
Poppy’s footsteps echo along the hall floor and she appears in my doorway, her pretty face scrunched in a frown. In her hands is the dress I chose for her, with Bailey’s help. It’s a floor-length teal gown, with a beaded bodice and spaghetti straps, and a puffy tulle skirt. At least, that’s how Bailey described it. I don’t know the meaning of half these words, but Bailey said it looked like something she’d seen in a photo of Poppy at her prom, which apparently didn’t go so well. And something about that made me want to get it for her, made me want to give her a chance to redo that night.
She holds up the gown, and it occurs to me that maybe she doesn’t want to redo that night. Or maybe it’s not the right size? All I had to go off was a guess from Bailey.
“I can’t accept this.” Her worried expression meets mine. “This is way too much…” she trails off as I button my waistcoat. Her gaze sweeps across me from head to toe, and her lips part ever so slightly. “You look…” Her voice is husky and she clears her throat, trying to regain her composure. “You look really good.”
Warmth pours through me at the compliment. I’ve caught her looking at me from time to time, but she’s never outright admitted she likes what she sees. Tonight, I put a little more effort in; trimming my beard slightly, styling my hair, choosing a plain white dress shirt with a charcoal waistcoat. Her eyes fasten on the rolled cuffs of my shirt, exposing the tattoos on my forearms, and she puffs out a little breath. The way her eyes drink me in makes me feel like a king.
Ah, fuck , I mentally curse. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. After what happened at the pool, I’ve sworn to myself I won’t touch her again. I won’t think of her in any way other than as my daughter’s friend.
I won’t want to kiss her more than I want air.
“Thanks.” I smile, motioning to the dress in her hands. “Do you like it?” I ask, my tone hopeful despite myself.
“ Like it?” She blinks. “It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”
Relief trickles through me. “Good. Go put it on.” She opens her mouth as if to protest again, and I motion to my watch. “We don’t want to be late.”
“O… Okay.” She slips out of the room, and I smile to myself, my chest hot. Seeing how much she loves the dress makes me giddy. Sure, we can’t act on whatever it is between us, but we can still have a good night. I can still make her smile.
I head to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge while I wait for Poppy to get ready. I don’t care if we’re late. I only said that so she wouldn’t argue about the dress.
Bailey and Dean enter the kitchen, talking and laughing, and Bailey pulls a bottle of beer from the fridge for her boyfriend before pouring herself a glass of wine. When she notices me, seated at the counter, her jaw drops in an expression of exaggerated shock.
“Wow, Dad. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Ha ha.” I cut her an amused look, and she pinches my arm.
“I guess you can’t go to an awards show in a leather jacket or dirty work clothes, can you?”
“Give him a break,” Dean says, clinking his bottle against mine. I shoot him a nod of thanks for the show of solidarity.
Bailey glances at the door, then back at me. “How is it living with Poppy?” she asks in a low voice. It’s the first moment we’ve had alone without her friend, and she examines me carefully.
I take a deep sip of beer as I consider how to answer. “It’s great,” I say vaguely, with a nonchalant shrug. Living with Poppy has made me anything but nonchalant.
“No more visits from Kurt?” Bailey asks, and I feel my face darken. I have to assume Poppy hasn’t mentioned what happened with her job, and it’s not my place to bring it up.
“No, but if I see that asshole again, I might have to kill him.”
Bailey’s eyebrows hit the ceiling, and I grimace.
Shit, why the hell did I say that?
“Just… you know.” I twirl my beer bottle, trying for some more of that nonchalance. “All the stuff you told me about him? It’s what he deserves.”
I’m relieved when she nods, and Dean chips in. “He’s the worst. She deserves so much better.”
Yes. She does .
“At least she’s safe with you,” Bailey adds.
Guilt gnaws at me as I think of what I’ve imagined doing to Poppy, the moments where it’s felt like we’re flirting. How close I came to crossing a line this afternoon by the pool. I’m anything but safe.
I need to remember what matters most, and that’s ensuring Bailey’s friend is taken care of. Making sure I do the responsible thing, and keep my hands off her.
“She is,” I say firmly, more to myself than to my daughter.
“She seems different,” Bailey murmurs, staring down into her wine with a smile. “Happier. More relaxed.”
“She does,” Dean agrees.
This lights up something inside me that’s hard to ignore. Is it possible I’ve had something to do with that? I raise my beer to hide my smile.
“How do I look?” Poppy enters the room and I choke on my beer.
She looks gorgeous. Breathtaking. Like everything a man could want.
She’s swept her red hair back, leaving a few loose strands falling around her heart-shaped face. Her cheeks are pink, her lips that perfect scarlet as always, and the dress…
Wow. The neckline highlights her cleavage, the beaded part clings to the curve of her waist, and the rest falls to the floor in long sections.
Honestly, if we were alone now, I’d haul her into my arms and kiss her, consequences be damned. Never have I seen a woman look more beautiful. I have to remind myself to breathe.
“Holy shit, you look amazing!” Bailey skips to her friend, examining the dress. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s great, Pops.” Dean beams at her. “Really pretty.”
Poppy blushes, staring at her hands. “Thanks,” she murmurs. Her gaze flicks quietly to me, eyes round and expectant, and I realize she’s waiting for my thoughts. As if my opinion is the one that matters.
I take a large gulp of beer to steady myself. “Yes, it’s…” Fuck, how do I choose an appropriate word here? It’s both sexy and pretty all in one; innocent, like something a princess might wear in a children’s film, but I could imagine slowly taking it off her, letting it fall to the floor, watching her step from it.
Don’t think about that.
Bailey slides me a questioning glance. I’m taking too long to answer.
But before I can land on the right word, my daughter steps forward, adjusting my shirt collar. I try not to notice the disappointment that shutters Poppy’s expression.
“Seriously, Dad.” Bailey smooths a hand down my chest. “You look so handsome. You should be taking a real date.”
My gaze darts to Poppy before I can stop it, but she’s fiddling with her purse.
“You wouldn’t mind if your dad met someone?” she asks casually, not looking at anyone in particular.
My pulse trips at the question. What is she doing?
“What?” Bailey looks from her to me, puzzled. “Of course not. I’d love you to meet someone, Dad. I want you to be happy.”
Poppy glances up and flashes me a smile, mouthing the words, “Told you.”
It’s never too late to be happy .
Hope blooms in my chest as I’m reminded of what she said last weekend, but I quickly squash it down. There’s only one person I want to be with, and I can’t have her.
A honk sounds outside, and I exhale, pleased for the distraction.
“Have fun!” Dean says.
Bailey presses a kiss to my cheek. “Love you.”
“You too, kiddo.”
I turn to Poppy, motioning toward the door, and she nods, gathering the long part of her dress in one hand so she doesn’t trip. There are slits up the sides I hadn’t noticed, exposing her long, shapely thighs, and I force my gaze away as we head out to the car. A black limo waits on the driveway, and Poppy turns to me, her face animated.
“A limo?!” she says, bouncing on her heels. I have to bite my lip to hide my grin.
“They send them for all the finalists,” I say with a shrug.
It’s a lie. I ordered the limo the moment Bailey told me how awful Poppy’s prom was. That, and I wanted to do something special for her after what happened this week with Kurt and her job.
The driver holds the door open and Poppy slides onto the back seat. “Wow,” she says, glancing around the interior as I climb in beside her. “I haven’t been in a limo since prom.”
I decide to test the waters. “Fun night, was it?”
“Um…” She smooths her dress across her knees. “No. Kurt and I had a huge fight.”
Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything.
“Well, maybe tonight can make up for it,” I say, as if the thought has just occurred to me.
The driver pulls onto the road, and Poppy’s gaze rests on me for a long moment. “Thank you. For the dress, for bringing me tonight, for… everything.” There’s a catch to her voice, and emotion twists in my chest. I should be thanking her for the trip here in the first place, but I know if I try to speak more, I’ll say things I can’t take back.
Instead, I smile. “You’re welcome,” I murmur, forcing my gaze out the window at the passing vineyards.
It’s going to be a long night.