Chapter 20
Poppy woke up feeling luxuriously sore in places she didn’t know existed. Last night was the perfect blend between physical release and emotional bonding. He’d promised he’d ruin her for all men and he kept his word. It was the best night of her life.
Eyes still closed, she rolled over to hold Decker but instead found a cold, empty bed. Disappointment settled in her chest, but she told herself he was in the bathroom. Taking a shower that she’d love to join.
Forgoing a toga wrap of the sheets, she adopted her new boldness and walked naked into the bathroom, but it was empty. In fact, there wasn’t even condensation on the mirror, which meant he hadn’t showered yet, or he’d gotten up a long time ago.
Telling herself it was the first option, she lay back in bed, sliding under the covers that felt silky against her sensitive flesh.
“He didn’t abandon you. He’s just getting something,” she told herself after five minutes had passed. Because surely after last night he wouldn’t make her do the walk of shame. He was too good of a guy for that. Except another five minutes passed without a single word or Decker sighting.
“It’s okay. It’s not like you said last night was anything more than sex.” Although, to her, it had been so much more. It had been a turning point for her. She wasn’t saying this was love, but it was definitely deep. And she knew in her gut he felt the same way.
So then why did he bail and leave me alone to wake up in a cold bed?
“You’re overthinking this,” she said. “Now get in the shower and go find him.”
Making this morning after perfect wasn’t just the man’s job. Poppy believed in doing her fair share. So she’d tug on her big-girl panties and go and find him. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but she knew it would come to her.
She wanted to put a little good in his morning with a big smack to the lips.
Her show was all about being authentic and she authentically liked him.
A lot. She’d made a career at being open with her audience, and she wanted to be open about this, but she’d never let her personal feelings outshine her reason for being here: to take care of Stark House.
After a quick shower, she slid on her overalls and her body tingled at the reminder of what he’d said about her curves filling them out. She could have worn jeans, but she wanted to surprise him with a little inside joke. Because that’s what people who were together did. They shared inside jokes.
Confidence dialed to ten, Poppy walked out of the bedroom and down the hallway toward the kitchen where voices were coming from.
Putting a little swing in her step she entered, and all that swagger sank to her toes.
Decker stood next to the new custom-made island that had clearly been delivered that morning—while she’d been sleeping alone in her bed.
Miles and the rest of the crew were scattered around the kitchen. Next to him was Jessika, looking up at Decker with hero-worship eyes, her head thrown back like he’d just told the joke of the century.
Don’t borrow worry, he’d said yesterday.
But she was worried. Especially when she waltzed over to say hi and he dodged it, then slung his arm around her like she was one of the guys.
“Morning. You missed breakfast, but I saved you a doughnut.”
A doughnut? That’s what he says after the best night of her life? That he saved her a doughnut?
Miles smacked his forehead.
Humiliation hit hard. It became visible when Decker met her gaze and, with a friendly smile, added, “I had to fight Clive for it, but I won.”
“Back in the day, I boxed in the Golden Gloves, so I know my way around a doughnut fight.” Clive tucked his spare tire into his pants. “I just let you off easy.”
Kiki was on the opposite side of the room, DumDum in her cheek, but her bestie telepathy kicked in and she mouthed, “Are you okay?”
Poppy meant to nod but instead shook her head.
“If you need someone to bury the body, I’m your girl.”
“I’ll get back to you on that.”
Decker, who was still slung over her like a dude, looked down at her. “Why don’t you go enjoy the spoils and then we could sure use your help laying out the backsplash.”
“The backsplash is destroyed,” she reminded him.
“I was able to get some replacement tile from a guy I know in Torrance. Authentic to the fifties. I thought you knew.”
“That’s right,” she lied. There was no way she was going to expose just how distracted she’d been over the past few days. She knew better but didn’t listen to her gut. Something that would never happen again.
“The color is a bit brighter because it hasn’t been in the sun for seventy years,” Decker said. “But I figured we can mix and match to make it look like it was the designer’s intention.”
Normally, Poppy would be grateful, but instead she felt defeated. Old feelings from her childhood arose and it took everything she had not to cry. “Okay.”
His brows furrowed with confusion. “Is something wrong?”
“Nope. Everything is exactly how I thought it would be.”
The crew clearly thought she was talking about the progress of the kitchen, but Decker was trying to read between the lines.
Well, let him read away. He wanted to play it like nothing had changed, she could play that game, too.
There was no way she’d give him the pleasure of knowing how much he’d just hurt her.
Obviously, last night meant separate things to each of them. They were in completely different headspaces. Because even worse than waking up alone, something she’d spent a lifetime battling, it was like he was keeping her a secret.
“Let’s get these tiles laid out,” she said with her head held high and her shoulders back.
She picked up one of the new ones and he was right, they were slightly darker. Putting her Decker Dilemma on the back burner, she scolded herself for being distracted and got to work.
“I think the best way to go is random. If they’re going to be stacked, then we don’t want a set pattern.”
“I agree. It just shows how irreplaceable Poppy is,” Kiki said, her eyes narrowed at Decker. They were full of threat and the promise of retaliation.
Decker looked back and forth between the two women in the tell-tale sign that men were stupid. Because he wasn’t picking up on the undertones of the conversation.
“Do you want help putting up the tile?” he asked.
“Clive and I can do it. Why don’t you disappear into your workshop.” Because that’s what you do, hung in the air.
“Am I missing something?” he asked.
“Okay,” Miles said, taking Decker’s arm and leading him toward the slider. “You and I are going to do as the lady asks.” Decker started to argue, and Miles cut him off. “Don’t listen, hear, remember?”
Poppy turned on her heels and faced her crew, who were looking at her with the one emotion she hated most—pity.
It was clear to everyone that something had transpired between her and Decker and the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it. So she did what she’d done for her entire life, moved on like everything was fine.
Fine. Fine. Fine.
“Do we have any idea when the island will be installed?’ she asked.
Jessika broke the silence. “That’s Decker’s project. Want me to get him back?”
“No!” Poppy said a little too shrill.
And then, of all people, it was Diana who came to stand beside Poppy. She set down the camera and said, “We don’t need a man to help us do what a team of women can. Am I right?”
“Damn straight,” Kiki said. “I say we get some dollies and roll that sucker in place ourselves.”
“Who will film it?” Wasim asked.
Diana smacked him hard on the back. “That’s what the wall cams are for. Welcome to the circus, my man. Now glove up and get ready to get your hands dirty.”
“I thought you said it was a girl-power moment?” Wasim asked, so confused Poppy wanted to laugh.
“Son,” Clive whispered. “Thirty-five years of marriage has taught me to never call a woman a girl, and when it comes to woman-power always say yes to what is asked of you. Understood?”
“Grabbing gloves,” Wasim said.