Chapter 12 A Perfect Match #2
I was frustrated after she shut down a trip to Bozeman, so the notification of our match couldn’t have been better timing. I’d begun to worry something was wrong—that she might not have liked my profile—so when my phone pinged, I responded immediately.
Texting her as Braden at the same time as Owen wasn’t part of the plan, but when the idea came to me, I couldn’t resist. However, keeping the two conversations straight is more difficult than I imagined.
But I won’t waste the opportunity for the perfect excuse to keep her talking to Braden. To what end, I’m unsure.
I’m still wondering what my goal is. We don’t live near each other.
She wants love. I’ve sworn it off. She doesn’t do casual.
I don’t do relationships. So why am I pursuing her?
I wish I knew. But after having my mind consumed by this woman for the last few weeks, possessing her by any means necessary became a need I couldn’t ignore.
Until I figure out why that is, I’ll enjoy the journey and worry about the destination later. For now, it’s time to have some fun along the way.
Owen: What’s your ideal date?
Poppy: With someone new or been dating a while?
Owen: Hit me with both.
Braden: I’m sure you don’t. I’d bet money you’ve been using thoughts of me to take care of yourself for weeks.
Poppy: Wow. Love yourself much?
Poppy: A round-robin night out with someone new. So one place for drinks, another for an appetizer, and so on. With a person I trust, a home-cooked meal and board games.
Owen: Then I’m looking forward to gaining your trust for a home-cooked meal.
Poppy: Who said I’d be cooking?
Owen: Not me. A night in my kitchen and you won’t ever want to leave.
Poppy: That’s a bold statement.
Owen: That I can fully back up.
Poppy: All right, Mr. Confident, truth or dare?
Braden: What I love is watching you come for me. And since I can’t do that, I might as well imagine it. Moment of truth…I’ve pictured you while “relaxing” more than I care to admit.
Owen: Truth, since you’re trying to get to know me ;)
Poppy: Why did your last relationship end?
Owen: She cheated on me.
Poppy: I’m sorry. That sucks.
Owen: My turn.
Poppy: Truth.
Owen: What’s something you can’t live without?
Poppy: Let me think about that while I grab another beer.
Braden: But I’d like more than a picture. How do you feel about a video call?
Poppy: No way! You’d probably end up recording it somehow.
Braden: Only so I could watch it every night.
Poppy: You’re terrible. I’d never do that anyway.
Braden: Funny, I seem to remember you doing something else you said you’d never do. I’d say that turned out well.
Poppy: Still, I am not having phone sex.
Braden: So you don’t want to know where my hand is right now?
Poppy: Stop it. You’re so full of crap.
I text her a picture.
Poppy: You did not just send me a dick pic!
Braden: It’s blurred… you can hardly tell what it is.
Poppy: Still, you can’t do that.
Braden: Don’t doubt me next time. If I say something, it’s true.
Poppy: Lesson learned. Thank God I have beer for this.
Braden: What are you wearing?
Poppy: I’m not doing this with you.
Braden: You started it the second you texted me about your feet.
Poppy: Well, now I’m finishing it.
Braden: I’d rather we reach the finish together. Why don’t you start by telling me what you’re wearing. I’ll go first—sweatpants and a T-shirt.
Poppy: I’m back.
Owen: What did you come up with that you can’t live without?
Poppy: Rules.
Owen: LOL… I should have figured that one.
Poppy: JK, well, it is true, but the answer is my Kindle. Do you read?
Owen: Is that your question?
Poppy: Sure.
Owen: As far as reading goes, I recently became a fan. But since my time is limited, I’ve realized I enjoy listening to audiobooks instead.
Poppy: What do you read?
Owen: Uh, uh. My turn. Who was the last person you kissed, and how was it?
Poppy: That’s a double question.
Owen: Only one and in the sentence is okay. Two would be a violation.
Poppy: You’re making that up.
Owen: Are you trying to avoid answering?
Poppy: I kissed a guy I met at a wedding, and it was fantastic. So, there. Now give me a minute to think of something.
Hm. I like that response.
Poppy’s cute when she’s tipsy—I could almost envision her sticking her tongue out at the same time.
I’m having more fun than I’ve had with a woman in ages.
In fact, I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed one outside of fucking them.
While I’d love to engage in some naughty phone sex, I can honestly say I’d be happy with simply talking all night.
Braden: How’s that beer tasting?
Poppy: Good, but the bad news is I’m out.
Braden: Sorry to hear that. Have you made it to your bed yet?
Poppy: When did you have sex last, and how was it?
Owen: Copycat.
Poppy: You started it.
Owen: About a month ago, and it was quite possibly the best. My turn. How did you lose your virginity?
Braden: You’re an expert at avoiding my questions, Mouse.
Poppy: Yes, I’m in bed.
Braden: Will you be reading yourself to sleep? Any sexy parts coming up?
Poppy: Bet you wish you could read over my shoulder again.
Braden: What book are you reading? I’ll download it and follow along.
Poppy: You read faster than me. It wouldn’t work.
Braden: I’ll slow down and wait if I get too far ahead. Come on. It’ll be a book club.
Poppy: A two-person book club?
Braden: You and me, Mouse. Think about it.
Poppy: Hmmm… okay. Answer’s still no.
Owen: I hope you didn’t fall asleep on me.
Poppy: Nope, it takes me a lot longer to do that.
Owen: We have that in common. I’m sure the beers make it easier, though. You ready to tell me about your first time?
Poppy: Not really, but I suppose I have to. Rules and all. It’s kind of embarrassing.
Owen: Most are. If it makes you feel better, mine was awful.
Poppy: Luckily, that wasn’t my issue. It’s just that it was pretty recent. That’s the embarrassing part. Remember the guy I kissed that I met at the wedding? My first time was during the reception.
Owen: You’re joking, right?
Hell to the no. What the fuck? Is this the same Poppy? Shit, obviously it is. She texted me when I dared her to. But that means… oh fuck. My mind spins, going back to that night, running through scene by scene. Oh fuck. How is that possible? She didn’t say anything. She didn’t act like a virgin.
It can’t be true. She’s gotta be messing with me. That’s it. She knows I’m Owen.
Poppy: Is that a problem?
Dammit. That probably wasn’t the best response. I need to cover my tracks in case she’s serious.
Owen: No. Sorry. Just surprised. Is your age correct on your profile, or did you embellish it? Not interested in dating a teenager.
Poppy: LOL. It’s right.
Owen: What made you give it up to some random guy you met at a wedding and not someone you were dating? Did you feel forced?
Oh God. I’m not sure I can handle it if her answer is yes. I’m not that guy. Fuck. I’d never have tried so hard if I’d known.
Poppy: Absolutely not. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about and get it out of the way. And he knew what he was doing, so that was nice.
Owen: Was it what you expected?
Poppy: It was way better. I have no regrets, other than taking it too seriously before knowing what I was missing. I still won’t be the girl who sleeps around. I’m not saying I won’t have sex again until marriage, but it needs to be with someone I’m serious about.
I’m not sure how to respond… as Owen or Braden.
I’m at a loss for words—shell-shocked from the truth.
Why wouldn’t she have told me? That’s the number one question plaguing my mind.
I could’ve done things so differently, been gentler, slower, more caring.
Fuck. I’m an asshole. A total fucking prick.
Christ. Her second time, and I fucking tag-teamed her. Her second time. My hand is practically pulling my hair out from the turmoil.
Poppy: Sorry, I know that’s a lot to digest, and you probably want someone more experienced.
Don’t worry, you won’t hurt my feelings if that’s the case.
We haven’t even met yet. You’re my first match, so really, it’s okay.
I didn’t mean for that to come out right away.
Or at all, actually. Lesson learned for the next one, huh?
LOL Note to self: don’t play Truth or Dare on a first date. Not that that’s even what this is.
Fuck. She’s spiraling. I’m spiraling. I need to respond.
Owen: No, wait. I’m sorry. Just taking it all in, and putting myself in your shoes, trying to figure you out. I’m not on this app for a quick fuck. If I were, I’d be scrolling through pictures. It threw me for a loop, is all.
Poppy: Thanks, but I promise it’s fine if I’m not what you’re looking for.
Owen: One thing to know about me, I don’t lie. I’m very straightforward, so if something bothers me, you’ll know. And you’re exactly what I’m looking for.
After ending Owen’s conversation with plans to pick it up the following night, I’m reeling from Poppy’s revelation and can barely sleep. My mind won’t stop replaying all our interactions, searching for signs, racking my brain as I try to remember if I coerced her somehow.
Throughout the next day, guilt completely takes over, along with an unexpected emotion—possessiveness—pure and utter possessiveness of my sexy little mouse and her body. The problem is, I’m not sure what to do with it.
When she texted Owen this afternoon that she’d be out tonight and might not be home to chat as planned, it gutted me. After refusing to go out with me, who the hell is she seeing? I need answers, which means it’s time to pick up where we left off.
Braden: How about we start our book club tonight?
Poppy: You don’t give up, do you?
Braden: I thought you knew that about me already.
Shit. Immediately, my mind goes to the fact that I was so persistent in luring her into bed.
Poppy: How would we make it work?
Braden: Book club, or you and me?
Poppy: Well, since only one of those is on the table…
Braden: Hmmm… I like the sound of that. You’d make a delicious meal.
Poppy: I’m blocking your number if you keep it up.
Braden: Alright, alright. You choose a book, and we’ll only read it when we’re reading together. We can start tonight.
Poppy: Can’t. I’m headed to dinner with a friend.
Braden: Male or female?
Poppy: Why does that matter?
Braden: So it’s a male. Oh well. A little competition isn’t a bad thing.
Poppy: You’re delusional. There’s no competition.
Braden: I’m flattered.
Poppy: Meaning, you’re not in the running. Five states away, remember? A player interested in notches on his bedpost versus one who’s ready to settle down.
Braden: We could negotiate.
Poppy: Stop it. If you want to read, I’m open to the idea. Anything else and I’m serious about blocking you.
Braden: When can we start?
Poppy: We can talk about it tomorrow. I’ve got to finish getting ready.
Braden: Send me a picture of what you’re wearing.
Dammit. She’s going out. On a date. What if someone else touches what’s mine? I shake my head in disbelief. Mine?
Fine, that may be a stretch, but I can’t stand the thought of another man’s hands on her. And now I’ll be stuck thinking about it until I hear from her. It’s insane that this is what I’m reduced to—on a Saturday night, no less.
Rather than sit here and stew for God knows how long, I decide a distraction is in order.
Braden: Anyone free tonight?
Jackson: Nope, headed to the parents. It’s been a while, though. What about Tuesday?
Eli: Abby’s been running a fever, but Tuesday works.
Sebastian: Keep me posted. I should be able to.
Braden: Tuesday it is. No pussying out.
Hopefully, Warren’s available.
Braden: You up for drinks?
Warren: I thought you’d never ask.
Braden: The club in thirty?
Warren: You got it.
My phone pings again while walking into the bedroom to change.
It’s a text from Poppy—she actually sent me a picture.
A smile instantly breaks out as I stare at her, standing in front of a full-length mirror wearing jeans, ankle boots, a modest sweater, and those glasses that make me want to bend her over a desk and fuck her.
No one would call her plain, but it’s not your typical dress-to-impress attire. So maybe it’s not a date. Or she isn’t the type to flaunt herself, which is more likely. Other than when we went to the club. That was a smokin’ hot Poppy, and I’m certainly glad it was me who benefited.
This Poppy is subtle, but if you take the time to look, you can’t miss the shape of the long, slender legs leading up to her hips, which are the perfect size to grip. The modest neckline still shows enough of her alabaster neck that I’d give anything to taste right now.
But the real prize is higher. Those fucking full lips that happen to be smirking. Those would be the first things I would worship if she were here. That luscious mouth would be devoured within seconds.
I’m hard at the thought but need to get a move on, so I toss my phone on the bed and enter the closet. I’m a suit and tie guy—goes with the profession. The slacks seem to stick when I go out, and my shirt collection rivals a clothing store. Needless to say, I’m a snazzy dresser.
Next is the bathroom to style my hair. Since it’s only fair to send a picture in return, I spend an extra minute making it perfect before grabbing my phone to snap one in front of the mirror with a smirk of my own. Might as well give her something to think about during her date.