Chapter 19
Chapter 19
T he next morning a new customer arrived at the diner. Poppy noticed him immediately because he was young but, unlike all the other young men she’d seen around, clearly not a ranch hand. He wore all black and when he reached for his piece of coffee cake, she saw words written on the inside of his wrist. Before she could read the words, he removed his hand, grasping his coffee and muffin, his fingers lightly skimming hers as they made the handoff.
It wasn’t unusual for her to accidentally brush a customer. She spent her day handing them food and receiving money in return. It was bound to happen occasionally. The difference this time was that she felt a little thrill of attraction when it happened. The only man who had affected her that way in recent memory was Sully. But the last few months of unending nausea had driven all thoughts of romance or attraction from her mind. Now that she finally felt better, she began to notice men again, both Sully and others.
Sully she continually categorized as off limits. Things were good between them; they had established a familial sort of friendship, a mutual dependency on each other and growing excitement over their pending bundle. So it took her by surprise to find the handsome stranger attractive. For a second, she allowed her mind to advance, to picture having a flirtation and maybe even a date with him. Then his dark eyes landed on her belly bump, and she quickly came back to earth.
Oh, right, I’m pregnant. Despite taking over her entire life, the pregnancy still felt so new that sometimes she forgot. When she saw the handsome man, she had one of those moments. It wasn’t until his gaze landed on her belly that reality came crashing back. She was not in any position to find a man attractive and certainly not to act on it. So she forced a bland smile as she told him to have a good day. He nodded, not commenting. He sat and began to eat his cake and drink his coffee, but every time she happened to glance at him, he was looking at her. As soon as their eyes caught, he looked away.
For three days in a row, the man returned, ordered the same thing, and sat in the same place. And every time Poppy’s eyes landed on him, he glanced away, caught, almost guilty.
On the fourth day, his fingers were covered in paint. Without thinking about it, Poppy latched onto them and pulled them closer, inspecting. “Do you paint?”
“I dabble,” he said. “Are you a painter?”
“No,” she said, letting his hand go with a flush. The gesture had been one of surprise, not flirtation. Not that anyone could tell the difference. “I’m merely an art enthusiast.”
“Ah, I guess that makes me a baking enthusiast,” he said, holding the treats he’d bought from her aloft.
Poppy smiled and tapped the tattoo on his wrist. “What does that mean?” The words were written in Latin script.
“Family first,” he replied.
“That’s sweet,” she said. “You must be close to your family.”
“The closest,” he agreed. He glanced to make sure no one was behind him and rested his hip against the counter. “What about you? Are you close to your husband?”
Her cheeks flushed again. “No husband.”
“Boyfriend?” he queried.
She shook her head, the blush deepening.
“You’re alone?” he asked, a hint of a grimace darkening his handsome features.
“No, but we’ve decided to be friends.”
His answering smile was wide. “Friends are nice to have.”
“Yes, they are,” she agreed.
“Can I ask you a question?” he asked. His dark eyes were the sort that always had some hidden expression, the kind that made her want to find out what he thought. He was exactly the kind of guy she always went for—mysterious, complex, artistic. He was certainly unlike anyone else she’d met so far in Texas. He looked better suited to big city life than rural middle of nowheresville.
“Absolutely,” she said.
“Would you be interested in attending an art exhibit in San Antonio with me?” he asked.
She blinked at him, shocked. “You understand I’m pregnant, right?”
He laughed. “Yes. Am I not allowed to ask you out?”
“No, I mean yes, I mean I guess. Sure. We can go to an art exhibit.” The request seemed casual enough.
“Great,” he said, smiling wider. “One more question.”
“Yes?”
He leaned in to whisper. “What’s your name?”
She leaned, too, holding out her hand for him to shake. “Poppy Dunbar. And you are?”
“Diego Cortez,” he said, grasping her hand. He gave her the mystery smile again. “You have no idea how happy I am to meet you, Poppy Dunbar.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve been searching for a pregnant baker your whole life,” she said.
“You know what they say. Timing is everything.” He winked at her, took his treats, and went to sit down at his table.
Poppy did her best not to watch him, but she couldn’t help but feel slightly anxious. If he didn’t leave before Sully arrived…But he did. Ten minutes before Sully showed up for lunch, Diego tipped his head to Poppy and disappeared. Poppy breathed a sigh of relief. She was in the clear, at least until she had to try and explain to Sully that she had somehow gotten a date.
S he still puzzled it over as they ate supper later that night.
“What’s the matter, hon? Are you not feeling well? You’re so quiet,” Sully noted. They were at his house, as usual, sitting on his couch watching TV with their arms linked. Poppy didn’t get reception and she had only a decrepit couch. Sully, on the other hand, had satellite reception and a comfy leather couch with matching recliners. His house was strangely well decorated for a bachelor, Poppy thought. But it was comfy and cozy enough that she didn’t mention it.
“What do you do when I’m not here?” she asked, forcing him to pause the game he watched in order to face her.
“Sleep.”
“No, I mean what did you do before I showed up?”
“Got home from work and showered,” he said, reaching for the pause button again.
Poppy put her hand on his. “Sullivan, what did you do for fun before I arrived in town and this became our life?”
“Oh,” he drawled, finally understanding. “I worked a whole lot more. I’ve been making a conscious effort to get out at a reasonable time, to practice for fatherhood. I don’t want to be one of those ‘Cats in the Cradle’ dads.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“You know, that song about the absentee father? Every man’s nightmare,” he shuddered.
“But what did you do during your off hours? For fun?”
“I went out with friends or on dates sometimes, but mostly my life was work. Work and sleep and then work again.”
“What kinds of things did you do when you went out?” she asked.
“The usual,” he said, unpausing the TV again.
“You could go out, if you wanted,” Poppy offered a minute later.
“Ungh,” he muttered, only half listening as someone was tackled on TV. Poppy waited to speak again until the commercial.
“Like on a date,” she added, and finally his attention turned to her.
“Honey, what?”
“You could go on a date. It would be okay,” she said.
“Thank you for that, but who would this mystery date be? I’ve pretty much cycled through all the girls in town,” he said.
“You could go out with friends,” she suggested.
“If it ever comes up, I’ll let you know,” he said as the game resumed.
Poppy sighed, reached for the remote, and paused it. “Sully, I don’t want you to feel tied down or restricted by me. You are free, free to go out, to have fun. We only have five months until this baby arrives and our lives will change forever. We might as well enjoy it.”
Smiling, he reached for her and pulled her into his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he eased his arms around her. “Why are you being so solicitously concerned about my social life?”
His soft twang was so pleasant, as was the feel and smell of him. All in all, Sully Langford was quite a haul. And yet Poppy was keenly aware that he wasn’t actually hers, might never be hers. Did she want him to be? She tried hard never to peer too closely at that.
They sat in peaceful silence for a while. Sully seemed to accept her silence as some sort of answer and resumed the game. Poppy petted his chest, absently at first, as one might a beloved pet. But then he swallowed hard and tensed and she realized her touch might be misconstrued. Or perhaps it was merely being construed because the more she touched him, the more she wanted to touch him. They had been careful, very, very careful not to fall into a situation where they replicated their first encounter. At this moment Poppy felt as if they were teetering on the edge of that, that if she put her face up to be kissed, Sully would respond like a lit match in a box of firecrackers.
His left hand began a soothing little circle at the base of her spine. Poppy, who had always been particularly sensitive to touch, could feel herself begin to slip under. So she said the only thing she could think of to pull herself back out.
“I have a date.”