21. Hayden
Hayden
H ell has officially frozen over.
Poppy Wheeler just thanked me, something I know she was always determined to never do.
Warmth spreads through my chest as those two words sink in.
This time when I reach for her, she doesn’t step away.
I wrap my arms around her slowly, giving her the chance to reject the advance.
When she leans into me, my hands settle on the small of her back.
“It’s my pleasure,” I tell her, pressing my lips into her hair. She clutches my shirt with both hands, resting her fists against my abdomen as my mouth makes contact with the top of her head in a gentle kiss.
My heart races from the intimacy she’s allowing. Both physically and the way she’s trusted me with this conversation. I tilt my face lower, this time kissing her temple.
“ Whoa ,” a high-pitched voice squeaks.
Keeping her tight against my chest, I turn my head in unison with Poppy to find Stevie, Wren, Ivy, and Tripp standing at the beach access mere feet away. Great, the gang’s all here.
“We uh… noticed you both didn’t show for the town meeting and then didn’t answer your phones. We were worried that maybe one of you murdered the other during the episode today,” Tripp offers uncomfortably.
“But you are clearly okay.” Ivy loops her arm through Tripp’s and pulls him back up the path. “So, we are going now.”
“And we’ll talk later,” Wren adds ominously. That comment was clearly meant for Poppy.
“No, it’s fine. We’ll come with you,” Poppy replies hurriedly.
“We will?” I gape at her. I was pretty happy with what we were doing before the interruption.
“We were heading back anyway.” She takes my arms and removes them from her. But her voice is lacking the sharp edge I was expecting, being around the others like this. All I can do is trust it’s a good sign.
“We were,” I agree. Another moment, another step towards her trusting me. There’s more to say, more she needs to understand. But we’ve started the conversation, and that’s enough for today.
I follow her up towards our friends, sharing a look with Tripp over her head. He mouths an apology my way as Poppy falls into step with the girls. But I’m not upset. This is progress, and she is worth waiting for.
I jump out of Tripp’s Defender into my driveway, lacrosse bag in hand. “Have time for a drink?”
“Yeah, sounds good.” He turns off the engine and steps out as well.
I open the garage door instead of turning towards the house and find Beckett’s black Aston Martin DB4 parked beside my Stingray. “He’s been home more than usual,” I note.
“Has he talked about wanting to come back to town?”
We walk in and I grab a beer, passing it to Tripp.
Taking a sparkling water from the fridge for myself, I drop onto a leather barstool.
I’m abstaining from alcohol in case I get a rescue call.
It’s been my rule since we were cleared to operate and will remain that way until I have a second team and a set schedule.
“Not to me,” I reply as the door to the house opens and Beckett steps out.
“I got the alert that the garage door was opening, figured you’d be in here,” he explains, grabbing a beer for himself.
“What’s going on, being in town on a weekday again?” I ask, pulling out the stool beside me. Beck might only be a year and a half younger than me, but I’ve felt responsible for him since the day we were orphaned.
“Just felt like being here.” He shrugs. I can tell it’s not the full story. But we can have this talk when we’re alone.
“How are things with Poppy?”
I clear my throat awkwardly. These two would be the guys to help me out with this one. “Well, she found out I dropped ten thousand dollars on her, and she wasn’t happy.”
Tripp chokes on his beer, eyes wide. “You what?”
“It sounds more extreme than it is. She had some equipment at the bakery that died so I replaced it.”
“Pop doesn’t seem like the type that would agree to that,” Beckett snorts.
“It was an ask for forgiveness situation.”
They laugh in unison, but I shouldn’t be surprised. This is par for the course if I need their help. I turn to Tripp, the one guy in this garage with a serious relationship. “What would you do if Ivy needed your help but wouldn’t accept it?”
“You mean when my deranged deputy was hunting her last year?”
“Actually yeah, and you just went ahead and helped her anyway. And she accepted it. Look how that worked out.”
“That was different,” Tripp points out. “Her life was in danger, and it was literally my job to help as sheriff. She couldn’t really tell me to stop investigating.”
I take a drink and drag my fingers through my hair. “Fine, then what do I do here? I want to help her keep the bakery, but she wasn’t thrilled with the idea.”
“Just do the same thing as having to make your own station—anonymous donation.”
“Already tried that with this appliance, we see how well that went over.”
“Yeah, pretty good. Considering I found you about to make out on the beach.” Tripp laughs.
“You missed the fight before that point.”
“What if you give the money to Fitzy and ask him to give it to her? Pretend it’s one of his revitalization funds,” Beckett offers.
“I don’t want to start things off with a lie. If she figures that out, she’ll never speak to me again.”
“It can’t feel one sided. Poppy won’t just accept something. You need to figure out an exchange.”
I raise an eyebrow at Tripp. He’s right. “But what would I want in return?”
“Sex.”
The nearest thing in reach is a sponge from washing my car the other day. I pick it up and chuck it at Beckett’s head. “Great suggestion, dumbass.”
“I just need it to be noted that I, the sheriff, was not referring to sex for pay,” Tripp adds.
No one comes up with anything for a minute. I finish my drink and crush the can, tossing it across the wood bar behind me.
“Maybe I can accept her offer to pay me back? Then it’s not like I’m giving it to her. We can say I get a cut from the show or something?”
“And then we’re going to be right back here trying to figure out a way to give her back your cut from the show.”
“What if you don’t give her money, but volunteer to help? Be staff there. She could be open longer and serve more with a second set of hands around. Like she focuses on baking, and you do everything else,” Beckett offers.
“That’s not bad.” I nod. “I think that would at least get her to keep the conversation open about me helping. If I go in offering money first, she won’t hear of it.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Tripp agrees. “We already know she doesn’t just like you for your money.” He laughs and exchanges a look with Beckett. “Because she hasn’t really ever seemed to like you to begin with.”
“Wicked helpful, thank you,” I mutter.
He shrugs, taking a long drink before saying, “Hey, I have a question related to women. Do either of you have any knowledge on picking out engagement rings?”
“You’re proposing?” Beckett grins. “Congrats, man!”
“This is huge!” I jump up and cross the garage to clasp his shoulder. “Congrats.” As we shake hands, I add, “But we wouldn’t be the ones to ask about that.”
“Talk to her friends,” Beckett suggests. “Stevie can probably tell you the exact thing Ivy will want.”
Tripp drags his hand along his jaw. “You don’t think they’ll end up telling Ivy? They’re all really close.”
“Not with something like this.” I shake my head. “I think that’s a good idea. Ask the girls.”
“Maybe you can use that advice, too, actually,” Tripp points out. “If anyone is going to know how to get Poppy to come around, it would be them.”
“I can text Stevie?” Beckett offers.
“No, I don’t want her to know I’m talking about her finances with people. This stays between us, I’ll try the volunteering angle.” I already want to spend all my time with her so this could turn out to be a great situation.
I just need to get Poppy on board.