Chapter 6
“So, what do you do, Poppy?”
Ah yes, they’d come to the occupation exchange portion of the mating ritual that was small talk. As much as she appreciated the effort this guy was putting in, she wanted to tell him he was wasting his time.
Grant was attractive enough, intelligent, and had cracked a few ‘dad jokes,’ so he had a basic sense of humor, but Poppy had no interest in anyone at this wedding except AJ Costas. The man, the myth, the legend.
Who is asked to join Mensa at seventeen? Poppy wasn’t even sure what Mensa was except that it was a group for very intelligent people. And then there was his job. Liam said he worked in intelligence. So mysterious.
Poppy tried to blow Grant off as politely as possible, unfortunately, the more disinterested she was, the more determined Grant seemed to win her over.
She would bet her last fertile egg that the man was a surgeon.
He had the surgeon stench on him. She could sniff it out from a mile away.
It made sense considering the groom was a world-renowned neurosurgeon.
If she had to venture a guess, she would go with cardiothoracic, although she was not willing to bet any part of her body on that.
“I’m an X-ray tech, and you are a surgeon,” she took a not-so-wild guess.
A flash of alarm zoomed across his eyes like a shooting star against an inky night sky as he tilted his head to the side. “Do I know you?”
A slow grin spread across her face. His reaction told her he’d banged a lot of women in whatever hospital, or hospitals he’d worked at.
She considered, briefly, fucking with him.
If not for her own amusement, for the trail of broken hearts he’d most likely left in his wake.
Her concern was once he realized she was messing with him, he’d interpret her ruse as flirtation.
That was a risk she was not willing to take.
“You just have that smell about you,” she explained.
His brows raised. “That smell?”
“You know…” She waved her hand in a wafting motion in front of her nose. “Expensive aftershave, latex gloves, rubbing alcohol, a hint of being highly paid to cut people open, with subtle notes of childhood trauma.”
“You’re funny.” He chuckled. “Do you psychoanalyze everyone this efficiently, or am I special?”
Before she could answer, a blonde with a slicked-back bun and a tailored suit who looked like she was half Bond girl, half Bond villain appeared like a genie in a bottle from a misty fog that had settled in the damp evening air.
Poppy didn’t know her name, but she didn’t need to; she was clearly in charge of the event and possibly the universe.
“Okay, if we can get everyone to come inside and take a seat, please.”
She may have added “please” but there was ice beneath the polite verb.
“Shall we?” Grant offered her his arm.
Poppy stuck with the polite blow-off, grinned, and began to walk sans escort, silently declining his presented limb. He took the soft rejection in stride and followed beside her.
“Are you on the bride’s or groom’s side?” he asked.
She had to think about that for a moment, it was quite the conundrum.
Technically, she was there as a plus one to her brother, who was the son of the groom, but Liam didn’t like the man who raised him and was only there today because of how much he cared about the bride, who was like a second mom to him.
And Poppy was only there because of the Grand Canyon-sized crush she’d developed on the bride’s son.
And then there was the night she’d gotten wasted with Frankie, the daughter of the bride, at JT’s.
That didn’t exactly make them besties, but she really liked her and hoped they would be in each other’s lives.
That relationship could be complicated because Liam had mentioned that Frankie was very protective of her brothers, especially AJ, but she had no intention of hurting the man. If anything, her plan was to help him have the best weekend he possibly could.
She could eenie meenie miney mo it, but for some reason, her gut, her instinct, and her intuition were screaming for her to say “bride.” She’d only ever regretted not listening to that voice.
“Bride,” she stated, fully intending that to be where they parted ways since the man was a surgeon after all.
Instead, his chin dipped in a nod. “Bride’s side it is.”
Deciding to pull a power move, she stepped into the fourth row and stopped at the aisle seat. She’d heard that AJ and Niko were both walking their mom down the aisle, and she planned on being as close to that action as possible.
Grant was clearly confused as to why she hadn’t moved down into the row, and she nearly explained herself, but she realized she had nothing to explain.
Perplexed expression in place, he stepped past her and lowered himself down next to her.
He continued to try and make small talk.
She humored him to the point that she wasn’t rude, but she wasn’t even in the ballpark of flirty.
Relief washed over her when the music changed and a side door opened.
She watched as her brother walked out with Dr. Sterling and his little brother, Tristan.
It was the first time she’d seen either man in person.
She’d done some online sleuthing, but that was different.
It was strange because she knew that she and Liam shared a biological father, Michael Davies was Liam’s dad.
But seeing the three Sterling men standing next to one another, she would swear that they were related by DNA.
They were all tall and handsome, with strong jawlines and similar athletic frames.
Liam resembled Dr. Sterling more than their own father, Michael Davies.
Or maybe that was just her mind playing tricks on her.
The ten-year anniversary of her father’s death was coming up, so maybe she’d started to forget what he looked like.
It’s not as if she spent much time trying to remember him.
In fact, the only time she did was when her mom or sisters brought him up.
As soon as the men took their places, the music changed. The double doors in the back of the room opened, revealing Frankie. She wore her wavy red hair down and a gorgeous baby blue dress. She looked like an angel walking down the aisle, practically floating. Ethereal.
Poppy tried to catch her eye, to get her attention to mouth to her how stunning she looked, but her eyes seemed to be focused intently ahead of her. Poppy followed her gaze and was not surprised to find its target. Frankie was staring directly at Liam.
She wasn’t sure exactly what was going on between the two of them, but whatever it was, the sparks flying off of them were so bright she needed welding glasses. The doors closed once again as Frankie took her spot.
A hush fell thick and absolute as the opening chords of the bridal march rang out.
At the front of the room, Mayor Walker’s voice carried with the practiced ease of someone who’d spent his life addressing large crowds.
“Would everyone please rise for the bride,” he intoned, the syllables slicing through the expectant silence.
There was a collective rustle as three hundred guests shifted to their feet, some with more grace than others.
Poppy stole a glance at the crowd, watching the ripple effect of energy that seemed to start in the back rows and roll forward, everyone subtly straightening their posture and smoothing the fronts of dresses and suits as they waited for the reveal of the woman about to become Cora Costas-Sterling.
The tension was so electric that the air itself felt charged.
The doors opened again, and the entire room turned as one to watch the bride step through.
Cora’s simple dress was an ode to old Hollywood, with sophisticated glamour.
She looked more like a movie star than a mother of three grown children, and for a moment, Poppy saw the future, herself in a dress, some unspecified man waiting at the other end of the aisle, her mom getting choked up.
It sounded like a nightmare. All she wanted to do was go to a courthouse and sign papers.
She shook the image away, and when she did, her attention snapped to AJ, who was walking his mom down the aisle, with Niko on her other arm.
The trio created a tableau almost too perfect for reality.
Poppy felt everything slow, then tilt, as if the room itself had pivoted in his direction.
The lights seemed brighter, the music louder, and her own pulse was suddenly present in her throat.
As he walked towards her, it was as if time slowed. With each step he took, she could feel her heart pumping in her chest. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. She could hear it in her head. He glanced at her. His eyes met hers in just a flicker, a microsecond, but she caught it.
Poppy Davies had been looked at before, she knew the difference between a glance and a look, and this was the latter.
The effect was instantaneous, her face heated, her palms dampened, and her stomach dropped in a delicious free fall.
A wave of tingles started at the base of her spine and rippled outward, making her toes actually curl inside her shoes.
Her mind, usually so quick with the quip or the analysis, went blank except for the echo of his gaze, the shape of his jaw, and the way his hands looked when he adjusted the lapel of his jacket.
She felt the urge to laugh, or cry, or both, and had to bite down on her lower lip to keep from doing either.
Then as quickly as those impulses came over her, they were gone with a whoosh as he passed by her.