Chapter 8
SO, POPPY IS MY NEIGHBOR, HUH?
Dallas
I glance at the clock on my nightstand and see it’s just after six in the morning. Groaning, I get out of bed. What’s the point in trying to go back to sleep when Sage has to get up and ready for school in an hour?
As I wait for my coffee to finish, I make a mental checklist of what I want to get done today while Sage is at school.
I think I’ll head out to the ranch, visit the barnyard, and see what I have to work with.
If it’s enough, I’ll discuss this with the school before I meet with Sage’s teacher later to ask about spreading the word and starting this thing for the kids.
Even with my doubts, I can’t let it go.
Stepping onto my back deck with my mug, my coffee steams in the cold air.
I stretch out the stiffness in my shoulders from lack of sleep, and the wooden boards are cool under my bare feet.
Winter has definitely settled in here, but I’ve always liked the cold.
The scent of pine and damp air fills my lungs as I close my eyes and inhale deeply.
There’s a fresh feeling in the air here.
It’s not smoggy like the city and doesn’t smell like fumes from buildings or cars.
The quiet feels more than good, it feels calming.
Movement draws my eyes to my neighbor’s deck.
At first, she’s just a shape in the dim light—a silhouette moving with slow, deliberate grace.
I almost look away until the glow from the porch light brushes over her hair.
Strawberry blonde hair, nearly copper in the low light, spills over her shoulders as she moves through a slow stretch.
Everything in me stills.
Poppy?
The realization slams into me. She’s facing away from me, but I recognize the shape of her body. It’s been permanently ingrained in my mind since our first meeting.
The woman I haven’t been able to shake from my thoughts, the one whose laugh has haunted me every time my head hits the pillow, is my neighbor?
How did I not know this?
How is this the first time I’m seeing her?
Her back is to me, lost in the kind of concentration that makes it clear she has no idea she’s being watched.
She shifts into another stretch, arms lifting, spine curving, and my chest tightens with the ease of her movements.
It’s a sharp contrast to how she carried herself at the bar.
This is less playful and more peaceful. You can tell just by watching her that this is her true self.
The one that doesn’t come out when there’s music, people around, and alcohol involved.
She said this was something that makes her happy, and it shows.
I should look away.
I should go inside and give her privacy.
The logical part of my brain tells me to shout “good morning” across the lawn, joke about small worlds, or acknowledge this twist of fate.
But I don’t.
Instead, I stay quiet, standing there with my coffee, facing toward her house and watching her.
Then, she spreads her legs and bends down until I can see her face through her legs.
I freeze with my mug halfway to my lips as her gaze lands on me instantly. Her lips part slightly as the flicker of recognition hits when her body snaps up, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
She had no idea either.
The air between our homes stretches tight, charged with something I don’t quite understand. Both of us stand there, still and staring. Words sit in my throat, thick and useless.
Say something, dammit.
Instead, I smile over the brim of my coffee mug.
But just as quickly as she found me, she breaks the stare, straightening her spine and stepping inside. The sliding door closes behind her, and I exhale, running my hand through my hair.
So, Poppy is my neighbor, huh?
“Daddy, I’m up!” The soft voice coming from inside, and the creak of the floorboards, remind me I don’t have time to stand out here and process whatever the hell just happened.
With one last look at Poppy’s empty deck, I head back inside.
This just got a lot more interesting.