Chapter 14
Poppy wandered around the room, taking in the large bed covered in a thick navy comforter and enough pillows to promise that one would be just right for her.
The walls and curtains were neutral tones.
Nice, she thought, stopping before the windows that looked down into the backyard.
What she’d seen of the house felt like a home.
Does he live here alone? It was big for one person.
Nick had asked her if he was growing on her, and the answer was yes. Everything she’d always believed she felt about him had turned on its head. He’d been there for her when she needed him, and they barely knew each other now. Not many people would have done that.
When he’d shown interest in her in college, she’d been shocked. Nick was one of the popular students. Poppy wasn’t, but he’d seemed to want to spend time with her. She’d thought they’d become friends. They hadn’t.
She still remembered the day clearly because everything at college had changed after that, and then she’d left.
Poppy had gone to meet Nick at the library.
They had an assignment due, and he’d needed her help.
On the way, she’d walked by the field where he had football practice, to see if he was ready.
She’d overheard him telling teammates Poppy did his assignments, which was a good reason to keep her around.
She hadn’t stayed to hear more and gone to the library.
When he’d joined her, she’d told him she didn’t want to be his friend anymore, and there’d been no way she’d tell him why.
His shock had been genuine. After that, she’d just kept out of his way, and clearly, that hadn’t bothered him because he hadn’t talked to her again.
But he’s not that Nick now . He’s kind and protective of his family, and the boy she’d known was now a gorgeous man who had kissed her.
That was not happening again. This was temporary, and she wasn’t even sure she’d stay in Brook. Plus, if he’d found her again, she would need to be ready to run.
Please don’t let it be Malcolm Davy.
Taking clothes out of her bag, she went to the en suite. After a hot shower, she changed into jeans and a cardigan, which Poppy struggled to get into one-handed. She ignored her tangled hair again because she found it too hard to wrestle with. Putting on her sling, she headed back downstairs.
Checking out more of the house on the way, Poppy reached the kitchen and found Nick talking to her cat. Hercules was sitting on the floor watching him cook.
“The thing is, bud, you’ve already eaten, and to my way of thinking, your waistline is a little thick, and I’m not your human, so I don’t have to feed you constantly.”
“Harsh but true,” Poppy said.
He turned with a smile on his face that made her heart flutter.
“He looks at me, and I cave and give him a treat. It’s just him and me?—”
“So you spoil him,” Nick finished for her.
“Something like that,” she mumbled.
“I had a dog who died of old age last month, and he could get me to feed him any time of the day.”
“I’m sorry. It must have been hard losing him.” Poppy saw the sadness in his eyes.
“Yeah, it was tough. Barney grew up with me. I miss him.” He turned back to the stove. The smells coming from whatever he was cooking had her mouth watering.
“Are you going to get another dog?”
“Not yet. I’m not ready.” The words told her he was still hurting.
“I’m really sorry you lost your companion, Nick.” Poppy touched his shoulder. She felt it rise and fall, and then he turned to face her again.
“We nearly lost Mom a few years ago to cancer, and he was always there when I came home from the hospital. He’d sit with me on the front step, and I’d feel his warm little body leaning on me, and it was like I wasn’t alone with my worry.”
She sniffed loudly and then cleared her throat.
“I can make Thomas cry easily too,” he said, smiling.
“Hercules is the only constant in my life through all the crap,” Poppy said, wiping a tear from under her eye.
“I still wake and reach for Barney,” Nick said, settling his hands on her waist.
“I bet.” She tried to back away, but he pulled her in close. “Nick, you need to let me go.”
“I’m sad. Surely, that deserves some comfort?”
Before she could argue, he was kissing her again. Soft kisses while his big arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. Poppy felt her pulse spike and that liquid heat flood her body. She wanted this man, and that was a terrifying thought.
“Nick,” Poppy whispered, “this is not a good idea.”
“Why?” He nipped at her lower lip. “Feels like a really good idea to me.”
“We hated each other a few days ago.”
“Correction, you hated me because I was a brainless idiot. Now I’m not, so you like me. There is no reason at all for us not to get naked.”
She snorted, and then he was kissing her again, and Poppy was kissing him back in seconds. The man made her knees go weak, and she didn’t remember anyone doing that before.
Nick didn’t let her go until he was ready, and then he eased her back, just enough to look into her eyes.
“Are you in a relationship?”
She shook her head.
“Me either, which is good, because you and I are ending up in bed. But first, I need to feed you. Are you hungry?”
“A bit, and no, we’re not,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “I’m not getting naked with a man I barely know, and besides, I’ve got injuries.”
“You know me, Poppy, and I’ll do all the work,” he said with a sinful smile. “But you’re right, not tonight. “Do you like enchiladas.”
“I-ah…” The switch in conversation threw her briefly, but she rallied. “You can cook?”
“That shock in your voice is sexist, Poppy. Men cook, and well.”
“Men, yes, but I never expected you to be one of those.”
His sigh was loud.
“Sorry, it will take time to think of you as nice Nick and not asshole Nick.
“I forgive you.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
“Good. Want to kiss again to seal it?” His smile was lecherous.
“No, I don’t,” she lied, stepping out of his reach.
“Want me to rub some of my mother’s favorite healing balm on your ouchies?”
“Ha-ha, no, thank you.”
“Sure?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Your kitchen has a lot of appliances,” Poppy said, changing the subject.
“The women in my family like to spend my money, and insisted I needed every last one. Plus, I like to eat, so I learned to cook—and to cook well you need appliances.”
She watched as he plated up the enchiladas. “Come on.” He nodded to the door she’d just walked through.
Poppy followed and was soon sitting at the small table in his dining area. Her first mouthful told her he knew how to make enchiladas.
“Good?”
She nodded.
“Tell me about what you’ve been up to since college, Poppy, other than becoming a best-selling author.”
“I thought I wanted to be a lawyer and enjoyed the work for a while. Then I started writing this story one day that had been rolling around in my head for months. It took me a year because I wasn’t doing it full time, and then I paid to get it edited using my savings.
I published and did well, so I wrote another one, and the rest is history.
I stopped being a lawyer and became a writer. ”
“I’m sure there is a bit more to that,” Nick said.
“Maybe, but the rest is boring.”
His phone rang, and as it was in the kitchen, he got up to answer it. Poppy began to stack their plates one-handed; he was back before she could take them to the sink.
“Sit,” he said in a hard voice.
One look in his eyes, and she knew he was angry again.
“What’s happened?” Poppy dropped back into her chair.
“Malcolm Davy’s fingerprints are all over your place.”
She could literally feel the color draining out of her cheeks. All she could manage was a gasp.
“Tell me everything you remember about what happened between you and him.”
“He… ah.” She felt lightheaded just thinking about Malcolm Davy in her house.
“Poppy”—he took her hand in his—“you’re safe here with me. No one is hurting you again. But I need you to talk to me.”
“I told you I dated him, and that he became weird and stalkerish.”
“Got that. Tell me what else you remember, because Billy was about to get in his car and come here, but I said I’d fill him in after questioning you. So talk, Poppy.”
“I’m sure it’s all on record.”
“I want to hear your version.”
She nodded. “We met after I published my first book. I was never sure how he found me, but he turned up one day when I was in a coffee shop working, and we started talking. He told me he’d read my book and loved it.”
Nick released her hand and nudged her water closer. She picked it up and sipped. Poppy hated reliving anything regarding Malcolm Davy.
“He’d seemed normal and really nice to begin with. I thought….” She shot him a look. “Well, I thought he could be the one, and then suddenly everything changed.”
“Changed how?”
“He would turn up at my house at weird hours and bang on my door or ring me in the middle of the night, and if I didn’t answer, he’d fly into a rage. It got to where I thought, ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ So, I went to his house to tell him I was done, and it was over.”
“You went to his house when you knew he was crazy?” Nick’s voice rose.
“I didn’t think he was crazy, just obsessive.” Poppy embraced the anger because it eased the numbing cold.
“Sound like one and the same to me,” Nick said.
“If you want to hear this story, then shut up and let me tell it. Stop judging me!”
He nodded, dark eyes angry.
“Besides, Malcolm had my favorite jacket at his house. I wanted it back.” Nick simply folded his arms, his lips forming a line, which she hoped meant he’d keep them shut.
“He opened the door with a smile. I said I was there for my jacket, and I wouldn’t be coming back, and that we were done.
He said to not be that way. That he was having a rough time of things lately, but he was better now.
It was weird, like all the crazy inside him had gone suddenly.
We stood in the doorway chatting about my next book for a while. ”
“You do realize that someone can’t flick a fucking switch and change just like that.” He snapped his fingers in her face.
“I’m not a complete idiot. There was no way I was going inside, and I thought if maybe we parted as friends, then he would leave me alone.” To his credit, Nick didn’t scoff.
“One minute, we were talking, and then in the next, he’d pulled me into his apartment.” Poppy clenched her eyes shut at the memory.
“What did he do to you, Poppy?”
“He tried to strangle me.”