Chapter 2
Nick looked at the woman before him. Angry woman, he amended.
“Have coffee with me, Poppy. They do a really nice peppermint mocha at Brew Stop,” he said, heading down the street with her laptop bag slung over one shoulder. “We’re both older and wiser now. We can be friends, surely?”
“No! Damn you, Atherton, come back here!”
Ignoring her, he kept walking.
As soon as he heard that Poppy Sylvester was here in Brook signing her latest book, he hadn’t been able to put the thought of seeing her again out of his head. She was one of the few regrets he had in life. Not her, or the time he’d spent with her, but how things had ended between them.
Last night, he’d stayed up to finish her book. Nick had tried to visualize the sweet, slightly awkward girl he’d known writing a thriller and come up short. He’d enjoyed it, but still it had surprised him Poppy had written it.
She’d been smiling at someone when he arrived today, and he saw the girl she had been in the face of the woman that Poppy Sylvester now was, but there was no doubting the lanky, shy college kid had gone.
Her blond curls were piled high in a big clip. Reaching his nose, Poppy was short even in heels, curvy, and every inch a woman. She wore a blue dress that crossed between her lovely breasts and caressed and hugged where, in his opinion, it should caress and hug.
“Bet those are a killer to run in,” he said, looking down at her sexy, ridiculously high red heels as she tried to keep up with him. “A nice change from the grunge look you had going on in college.”
“If I didn’t think it would take a wooden stake to do the job, I would take one off and ram the heel through your black heart.”
“Ouch, I believe that hurt.”
He had been drawn to her in college and never quite figured out why.
They’d had a few classes together, and he’d started talking to her one day.
Nick had found her funny and smart and totally different from the other girls he spent time with.
He’d talked about his family, and home, and she’d listened.
Then she’d told him she didn’t want to be his friend anymore, and it had stung.
It had taken him a while to work out why.
“Damn you, give me my laptop!”
Nick smiled as she glared at him. Her deep green eyes looked bigger, lashes longer, and he guessed that resulted from whatever she’d painted around them. It worked; they sucked a man in.
“There must be a police officer around here somewhere!”
“Just coffee for old times’ sake—nothing more. Surely you can manage that, Poppy,” he coaxedin his most reasonable voice.
“There is no old times’ sake. I dislike you, end of story. You’re an asshole, and I doubt you’re capable of personal growth, so that won’t have changed.”
“Ouch,” he drawled.
“Give me my possessions back and go away.” The words were spoken through her teeth.
“I read your book. It’s good,” he said, hoping to soften her up.
That stopped her. She looked at him again, eyes wide, questioning.
“You can read?”
“Very amusing.”
She’d been quiet when he met her, and never raised her voice, and that was part of the attraction for Nick. He’d spent most of his life around loud, volatile people, so when Poppy came along, she’d intrigued him.
“I don’t remember you being such a hard-ass, Poppy.”
“Life lessons made me grow up.”
Nick hated that he may have contributed to those life lessons.
“Let me buy you a coffee, and I’ll tell you how much I liked your book.” He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to walk away from her, but something was keeping him here, listening to her insults. “Just a coffee, Poppy.”
“I have no wish to become reacquainted with you.” She spoke in a slow, precise way. He knew this was because she’d once stuttered. “And I couldn’t give a shit what you think of my book.”
Placing a hand on his chest, Nick tried to look hurt. “You wound me, Poppy, and here I amextending the olive branch.”
Tilting her head to one side, Nick watched all the fight and anger suddenly ease from her lovely body.
She lifted one hand and urged him closer.
Leaning in, he took a deep breath and inhaled the subtle hint of her scent.
It was musky and floral, and damned if it didn’t make him want to move closer and nuzzle her neck.
“I’d rather decapitate you with it!”
“Oomph!” The air left his lungs after she punched him hard in the stomach.
“Stay away from me, Atherton!”
Nick felt her wrench the strap of the laptop bag from his shoulder as he doubled over, gasping for air. He then heard the click of her heels on the sidewalk as she hurried away.
Relieved when he felt the welcome rush of air fill his lungs, he straightened.
Who knew someone her size could pack such a punch?
When he could focus, he looked left and right and found her, head high, those ridiculous heels clicking along the pavement.
Nick saw the back of a man approaching her.
A fan, maybe? Poppy tooka step backas if to evade him, and then a group of people blocked her from his sight. Her scream made his blood run cold.
“Poppy!” Nick ran toward her. The people parted, and he found her again. Theman now held her shoulders, and she was struggling to get free.
“Release her!” Nick roared. The man turned, but he couldn’t see his face, as he wore a batman mask.He then shovedPoppy hard, sending her stumbling back. Nick tried to reach her, but she fell, hitting the ground hard.
“Oh my God! Did you see that?” someone yelled.
Nick reached Poppy as her attacker sprinted away. He couldn’t follow—he needed to check on her—but the rage inside him wanted to.
She wasn’t moving, and her eyes were closed as he dropped beside her.
“Poppy, open your eyes.” Nick’s hands were shaking as he cupped her face. “Please wake up.”
Her lashes fluttered open, and she tried to sit up, but he held her down.
“Easy, Tinker Bell. Let me check you overfirst.”
“My laptop?”
“You held on to that. Your bag’s gone, though,” he said, slipping a hand beneath her head to feel her scalp. She winced as he ran his fingers lightly over where she had hit her head. “Nasty lump there,” he said but didn’t add it was bleeding.
“He took my handbag?” she whispered.
“Afraid so.”
She tried to speak again but hissed as he probed around the edges of the lump on her head.
“Does anyone have something I can put over this?” he asked the spectators.
A hand passed a wad of tissuesto Nick, and he pressed them to her head gently.
“Ouch!”
“I remember when you walked into that door in college. You weren’t very brave then either.”
“I was too,” she gritted out. “You were the wimp, the jock who was always limping or wearing a sling.”
Nick smiled as he ran his hands over her shoulders and down to her wrists.
“It’s called sport, Poppy, and if I remember correctly, you had an aversion to it.”
“Ouch! Shit, Atherton, stop torturing me!”
“But it’s so much fun.” Nick looked down at her slender wrist, lying at an awkward angle in his hand.
“Do you hurt anywhere else?”
Poppy moved her legs and arms.
“Just my head and wrist,” she whispered. “I don’t feel well.”
“Okay, well, if you’re going to be sick, you tell me, and I’ll make sure you’re aiming the other way.”
“Such a shithead,” she whispered.
Nick looked at the circle of faces above them. He focused on a lady about his mom’s age.
“Can I use that pretty scarf of yours to make a sling, ma’am? I’ll replace it for you, I promise.” He smiled as the woman quickly unwound the fabric from her neck and handed it to him.
“I-I can’t believe that still works,” Poppy hissed as he slowly eased her upright into a sitting position.
“What works?” he said, tying the satin around her neck and fashioning a sling.
“That smile,” she hissed. “It opened more zippers and buttons in college than lunch wrappers.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, smiling.
“I’m immune. Hell, that hurts!”
“I know, Poppy, but we need to immobilize it. Hang in there. Almost done. Small breaths.”
“I’ve called an ambulance,” someone said above them.
“No ambulance, please, Nick.”
“You must go to the hospital, Poppy. Your head could need a stitch, and your arm an X-ray.”
“No hospital.” Her words were desperate.
Nick took the fingers she dug into his forearm and held them. Most people tried to stay clear of hospitals, but he could see by the terror in Poppy’s eyes that this was more.
“I’m pretty skilled at most things, Poppy, but stitching and setting breaks is even out of my range.”
“I won’t go back to the hospital again.”
Again? What the hell had happened to her since that day she’d told him she no longer wanted to be friends?