Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Poppy
The sound of the brothers’ angry words ringing in my ears, I slip back outside.
Then somehow immediately smile at the joy in Holly’s voice.
“I think that’s the perfect place for a pool,” Clover says.
Despite the worry twisting my insides, I grin at the sight of Clover’s purple buns peeking over the fence.
“But you can’t really see it, Auntie Clover,” Holly says, her expression exasperated. “You’re not tall enough.”
“I can remedy that.”
I jerk.
Because that isn’t Clover’s voice.
Her buns bounce as her head whips to the side, and I can almost picture her scowl before she exclaims, “Shep, no!”
Then those buns are in full view.
Because Clover’s scowling face is in full view too.
Shep’s mischievous one is also visible as he hefts her up. “What are we looking at, tiny Harrison?”
“I’m not tiny…” Holly frowns. “And what’s a Harrison?”
“Your dad’s last name is Harrison,” he says, ignoring Clover’s protests as he somehow maneuvers them both up and over the fence.
“But my last name is Baker,” Holly says as his feet hit the ground.
Shep’s eyes flick to mine for a heartbeat that speaks volumes, then he turns to Holly, Clover still protesting and pushing against his arms. “What are we looking at, tiny Baker?”
Holly grins. “The pool!”
Shep makes a show of looking around. “Excellent. I love swimming.”
“Me too!” Holly bounces on the balls of her feet.
“What about you, darlin’?” he asks Clover. “Do you like getting…wet?”
Her cheeks flush, but she just glares at him. “If you don’t put me down, I’ll show you exactly how I got the nickname The Enforcer.”
Those deep brown eyes of his hit mine, and he lifts his brows in question.
“She’s not lying,” I offer.
“Yup,” Holly says, skipping around the invisible boundary we decided would be the best place for a pool (and waterslide and diving board and—my suggestion—a hot tub). “Auntie Clover told the big, mean football player to stop.” She keeps skipping. “But he didn’t listen.”
“He didn’t?” Shep asks curiously.
But he still doesn’t release Clover.
“Nope,” Holly says, still prancing about. “So Auntie Clover”—she spins to face us and does a surprisingly accurate impression of a professional wrestler: expression screwed up, voice deepening, fists clenched tightly in front of her—“took him down!”
Shep looks at me again.
I nod. “He was twice her size.” I shift closer, whisper to avoid little ears from hearing, “And Cedar Hollow legend says his balls have never recovered.”
Slowly, Shep settles Clover on the ground, backs away.
“Or his pride,” Clover says.
“Maybe that’s why he moved away and never came back,” I finish lightly.
She grins. “Nah, it’s because I’m a black belt in jujitsu.”
“Damn, that’s hot,” he says.
Clover’s mouth falls open. But only for a second before she clamps it closed and shakes her head. “Then why,” she hisses, “are you holding your ball—”
I clear my throat.
“For the record, there’s plenty to hold,” Shep says with a wink.
She groans, her head tipping up to the sky. “Men.”
“Yup,” Holly singsongs. “Men!”
“Also, just for the record,” Shep goes on, completely nonplussed. “A black belt? That’s seriously impressive.”
Clover rolls her eyes.
“Will you teach me your jujitsu ways, darlin’?” He waggles his brows. “I’d love to learn.”
“You would?” she asks suspiciously.
“Yup.” He pops the P. “Especially since I’m guessing it involves lots of rolling around on the floor together, our hands in all sorts of inappropriate places.”
I smother my laughter.
The man’s incorrigible.
But he’s also hilarious.
Clover leans in, her eyes flashing with fury. “You are so fu—”
I clear my throat again.
She clenches her hands at her sides, exhales slow and steady. “Annoying,” she grits out.
“I think you meant to say awesome,” he says.
Snap!
I can actually see the final strand of Clover’s control break, and she takes a step toward him, those jujitsu skills a heartbeat away from being used.
Shep seems to sense it too because he reaches for the hem of his shirt and whips it over his head.
Clover chokes.
I choke.
The man’s body is…
Well, Greek god comes to mind.
“What are you doing?” she rasps out.
“Swimming,” he says.
Holly stops her skipping, looks at him with befuddled eyes. “But there’s no pool, Uncle Shep.”
Clover and I exchange a look. Uncle Shep?
But he doesn’t miss a beat with that either.
“Yeah, there is,” he says and tosses his shirt aside before “diving” into the pool.
Holly giggles and joins him, and the two loons goof around “swimming” on the overgrown grass.
“Do I want to know?” I hear as they roll back and forth, arms stroking and legs kicking.
“No,” Clover tells Storm on a sigh. “You most definitely don’t want to know.”
He glances at me, and I just shrug. “It’s probably for the best that we ignore Shep’s nonsense.”
A pause then he exhales, giving me a rueful smile. “Ignoring Shep is definitely for the best.”
“Hey!” Shep accuses. “I heard that.”
“I meant for you to,” Storm calls.
A hmph before Shep grins and pretends to backstroke along the grass. “Come on in, Storm,” he calls. “The water’s perfect!”
Storm closes his eyes for a moment, and considering the argument I overheard inside, I expect him to decline.
Instead, he peels back his lids, the anger and hurt I heard in his voice mere minutes ago safely tucked away. Then he touches my cheek, something soft crossing his face…but it’s chased by—
Mischief.
And a wink as he grips the back of his shirt and tugs it off.
I choke.
Clover chokes.
And then we’re watching two grown men act like idiots as they pretend to “swim” around the yard.
“Why do I have the distinct feeling that we’re in serious trouble?” she whispers.
“Because we are?” I whisper back.
She shifts closer, rests her head on my shoulder. “I hate that you’re probably right.”
“Me too.”
A huffed out laugh. “Liar. You’re happy.”
“You’re right.”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“I…” I pause. Then exhale as I process. “It’s not that I was unhappy before. I…I think I was just surviving for so long and worried about Holly and hurt that Storm left and—” I shake my head, trying to pull my thoughts together.
“And?” she prompts after a moment.
“And it’s not like everything’s magically fixed or perfect, or that I’m certain it’s all going to perfectly work out. But I…” I sigh. “He explained why he left, why he stayed away. He’s committed to being here for Holly and…we’re taking things one step at a time.”
“Is that code for being caught making out on the beach by Gertie?”
I gasp. “How’d you hear about that?”
She just lifts her eyebrow.
“Right,” I mutter. “Because this is Cedar Hollow.”
“Exactly.” A jerk of her chin toward my side. “So, how’s the arm?”
“Broken.”
She laughs.
“But, really, it barely hurts.” I fish into my back pocket and pull out the marker Holly insisted I carry around. “Want to sign my cast?”
“Heck yes, I do!” She takes the pen and scrawls her name with a flourish.
“I wanna sign too!”
Clover groans.
But Shep just leans close, boxing her in as she finishes her signature.
More scowls, but she executes some sort of jujitsu move that has him jumping back and her sliding free. “Full debrief later,” she commands as she passes Shep the marker and he bends over my arm to take his turn.
I salute.
She glares at Shep’s back and walks over to her place, using the side gate to exit the yard instead of hopping the fence like Shep had.
“I want the full debrief later too,” the man in question says.
“So you can torture Storm with your intel?” I ask.
“Nah,” he says. “You’re doing that enough by giving him blue balls.”
I choke for the third time in the last quarter hour. Then start laughing. “You are utterly and completely incorrigible, Shepherd Hall.”
He grins. “I am that.” Then he sobers, those brown eyes uncharacteristically solemn. “And I’m truly sorry about what happened. I don’t hurt women. Ever.”
Something about the way he says that…hell, it makes my heart hurt. “Shep, honey,” I begin. “It was an accident. I’m not upset. I promise.”
“Well, I am. And I’m going to find a way to make it up to you.”
Shit.
How he might do that has worry bubbling up in my belly. “You don’t need—”
He snaps his fingers, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve got it!”
“Um…you’ve got what?”
“How I’ll make it up to you.”
“Shep—”
He caps the marker, passes it to me, then holds up his hands, pointing at himself and smiling broadly.
“Um,” I say again, my stomach sinking.
Why do I feel like whatever Shep is up to is going to be a nightmare?
“Meet Sully’s Bar’s newest bartender!”
I blink.
His fingers wiggle.
“It’s me!”