Chapter 15
“Do you know how dangerous it is to be shirtless and armed with a nail gun?” Decker said to Jack, who was sitting on a dolly in his usual uniform of all black, with a white scarf loosely wrapped around his neck and a director’s hat, making him look like a throwback to the Charlie Chaplin era.
In front of him, the camera and lighting crew were getting set and ready to roll tape.
“This isn’t about color swabs and structural beams. This is about the lifestyle one gets when they buy this house. That’s why there won’t be any tools in the shot,” Jack said.
“Well, he’s in the shot, right?” Poppy said with a teasing grin.
Decker wasn’t sure how today was going to go.
As promised, she hadn’t avoided him, but she also hadn’t slept in the bedroom, opting to squish in with Kiki.
What she had done was throw a pebble at his window, like they were in middle school, and told him that she needed time to process, and she’d see him in the morning.
“As long as you recant the bad lips accusation,” he’d said.
“Not on your life.”
“I will have you regretting those words, Angel. By the end of this show, you’ll be begging for my lips, and you will be denied until you admit they are the best lips of your life.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
Even from a distance and through the obsidian darkness he could see her blush.
“Good night, Decker,” she’d said.
“Sweet dreams about my lips.”
She chuckled and disappeared into the pool house.
Bad lips, his ass. He’d been part of that kiss, too, and it had been fan-fucking-tastic.
She’d been as caught up in the heat as he had.
In fact, had she not pulled back before things got too hot, he’d bet the house they would’ve ended up in bed.
In the moment, he was devastated that she’d put a halt to things.
But thank Christ she had. Look at how she’d flipped over a simple kiss.
How would she have reacted to the morning after?
He jabbed a thumb at Poppy. “Why doesn’t she have to be half naked? This is sexist.”
“I was just getting there.” Jack clapped his hands twice. “Wardrobe!”
Like magic, a team of designers came sashaying out like the pool deck was a catwalk and this was fashion week. Only they had a single article of clothing. More like a scrap of material.
Poppy’s eyes bulged out of her head. “What is that? A hair tie?”
“The magazine wants you in the pool,” Jack explained, as if that hair tie would pass for a bathing suit. “We can’t have you sporting your overalls.”
Poppy looked adorably confused. “What’s wrong with overalls?”
Decker looked her up and down. “The overalls are cute. But if I have to be half naked so do you.”
Poppy leveled him with a look. “It’s a thong, Decker.”
“Oh, I’m aware. God bless the thong.”
“Not happening,” she said so primly he wanted to laugh. “Plus, I have my own swimsuit.”
Before Jack could argue, Poppy was gone. Jack tried to follow, but Decker crossed his arms and gave a threatening shake of the head. Jack swallowed and sat back down.
When Poppy was out of hearing range, Decker said, “This whole thing really is ridiculous. You know that, right?”
“You want ratings?” Jack said.
“I just want my jail time to be up.”
That wasn’t true. In addition to fixing his reputation, he wanted to be there as long as it took to get Poppy to admit she liked him. The adorable grin she gave him a moment ago told him he was on the right track. He still had a ways to go but he was making progress.
“Well, the show needs ratings and this is how you get them. It’s not all about hammers and wallpaper and staging. It’s about connection, relationships, and sizzle. You two sizzle.”
Decker couldn’t argue with that. What surprised him was that the crew had picked up on just how strong their chemistry was.
She wanted to ignore it, but that was going to be a lesson in stupidity as far as he was concerned.
When it crackled from across the room, it was too combustible to be put out with a single kiss.
But if she was in denial, he needed to approach her with kid gloves and a nosy, gossipy crew wasn’t going to help.
Pick your battles, Deck, he thought. Pick your battles.
Then he realized this was a battle he wanted to pick.
If he felt protective over her before, after seeing the way she all but crumbled when talking to her dad this morning, then asked him for a favor to get Miles added to the roster, it had grown tenfold.
They hadn’t just shared a kiss. They’d shared a piece of themselves. A layer that went more than skin deep.
Plus, he wanted her to feel comfortable here. Deep in his gut, it felt like it was his job to help facilitate a safe environment for her. And that’s what he was going to do.
“Ratings are good, but not at the expense at her having to do something she’s not comfortable with.” His tone left no room for argument, but he’d forgotten that Jack loved a good argument.
“Well, you signed a waiver in your contract to do promo, and this is the promo the magazine wants. It’s Home and Garden Magazine!
We’re talking millions of eyes on it. America is already addicted to the show; they are eating it up.
But the polls say they want more playfulness, like Chip and Joanna Gaines. ”
“Chip and Joanna are married. We’re not.” And a funny thing happened. At the word married, he didn’t break out into a sweat like he should have. Which was something he’d put on the backburner to dissect at another time.
“Then figure out how to deliver it your way,” Jack said.
He was working on it. “Fine, as long as she gets to wear what she chooses. Even if it is her overalls.”
“Look, we want viewers to be able to picture themselves living in this house. And how better to do that than portray a warm summer day barbequing and hanging in the pool with blow-up flamingos.”
“Blow-up flamingos?” was all he got out when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and, man oh man, was he in trouble. It was nothing more than a fire-engine red one-piece, but the way it hugged those curves... Curves that could only belong to a real woman.
Damn, he was gobsmacked.
Poppy wasn’t in a thong or a revealing suit.
It was your everyday swim-Speedo but on her it looked like a walking wet dream—Baywatch style.
He felt himself man up below his boardshorts.
Gone was the ponytail and cap, and its place was long wavy brunette hair that made his fingers want to sink in and tug slightly.
In a single wardrobe change she’d gone from the sexy girl-next-door to the ultimate pinup.
Now, that’s what a woman should look like.
And the confidence she wore? Lethal.
She strutted right past him, slowing down to whisper, “One word from you and I’ll push you in the pool.”
“Only if you join me.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jack said cheerfully. “Now, action!”
“What do you mean, I’m blowing it?” Decker asked, so shocked by his nephew’s assessment that he nearly ran his hand right through the table saw. “How?”
“Ogling her in a bathing suit is not PC, dude.”
“How can I not stare?”
“Easy. Focus on her personality and intellect. Speak to her in a way that shows you’ve noticed her emotional IQ. Which, by the way, you need to work on yours.”
Since Decker wasn’t exactly sure what emotional IQ was or where he landed on the spectrum, he chose not to follow that direct line of questioning. Instead, he pointed out the obvious.
“What happened to me being the master and you being the grasshopper?” he asked, handing Miles a board to run through the planer.
They were working on the custom cabinets for the extension of the kitchen, trying to match them exactly to the originals.
It was craftsmanship at its finest. The goal was to make Stark House as modern as they could when it came to amenities while keeping the original character of the mid-century modern architecture.
“Because you’re going to blow this,” Miles said.
“Fine, Dr. Ruth. How should I play it?”
“Doctor who?”
Decker waved a hand. “Never mind. Go on, young one, explain away.”
“Point is, you don’t ‘play it.’ It isn’t a game. Not with a woman like Poppy.”
A sharp arrow of defensiveness poked through his sternum. “Never said it was.”
Miles pulled out the board and handed it to Decker. They were using seventy-year-old ash wood that offered a lighter look and cleaner finish, just like the originals. Because it was purchased from a restoration lumber yard it needed to be stripped down a layer so that the grain was highlighted.
“Then stop making the endgame sleeping with her. Instead, take the time to get to know her.”
“I do know her.”
“Okay, prove it.”
Decker puffed his chest out because he’d already pulled back some layers.
“She’s afraid of heights, is a snorer, runs a successful show, and was once locked in a closet at gunpoint.
” Even thinking about it made his fists clench.
“She loves pizza, dogs, and being right.” The last part made him smile.
“She could make a simple swimsuit look—”
“Careful. That sounds close to sexualizing a smart, successful woman.”
“Right. She is orderly and prim, which makes me laugh. She likes to be a team player and to be included on decisions. She’s a real people pleaser who will do anything to make the people around her feel heard.
” Decker crossed his arms and puffed out his chest like he’d just blocked the puck and won the Stanley Cup.
“Okay, you have a few things in there, but do you know why she’s a perfectionist or needs to feel a part of a team? Or why she feels the need to hear people out? Most of what you said are observations.” Miles pulled another board from the planer and set it on the worktable.
“For example, did you know that after her dad bailed, her mother fell into a depression and lost custody of Poppy when she was just eight and then her mom died when she was ten?”
“No,” he whispered, his heart taking a nosedive at the thought of how hard that must have been on anyone, let alone a young Poppy who was so sensitive and open. He knew her childhood wasn’t a happy one, but he never imagined it was that horrific.
Why didn’t he know any of that? He thought he knew her, but Miles was right, whenever she was around, all that came out of his mouth was shallow, flirty, idiotic shit. He couldn’t seem to get his head right around her.
For example, last night. She was opening up to him about what was important to her, what was on her plate, why a distraction would cost her everything, and all he’d done was think about himself and gone in for the kiss.
What an asshat.
“Okay, so how do I fix this?”
“It’s the five C’s of dating. Communication, compatibility, commitment, care, and compromise. Right now, you need to work on communication. You need to listen to women, dude.”
“What are you, my therapist?”
“I guess I am,” Miles said in wonder. “Wow, me giving the infamous Jamison Decker love advice.”
“I wouldn’t call it love advice.” Strong like. Maybe. But love? They’d only known each other a few weeks. Then again, his parents had married within three months after their first date.
“I didn’t think you were human until this week.”
“What were your options?” Decker asked.
“Superhero. Olympian. Gold Medalist. MVP. Hockey god.”
Something about that made his gut clench because a lot of people had told him he was their hero.
But those words coming from his nephew’s mouth felt different.
Made Decker feel like that was something he had to work hard to prove true.
Because right then, he felt like a fraud.
And why would a woman like Poppy go for a fraud?
“I’m not a superhero. I’m your uncle.”
Miles gave a goofy sideways smile. “Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out. I guess we both have a lot to learn about each other this summer,” Miles said with so much excitement in his voice Decker grabbed the kid and pulled him into his arms.
“I’m happy that you’re here, too.” He pulled back and the kid was bright red, from his cheeks all the way down his neck.
“Jack said you can stay, but it’s an all-or-nothing arrangement. Once you’re in, you’re in; there’s no escape. So you won’t see your friends all summer. You up for that?”
No hesitation. Just a confident, “Yup.”
Decker flicked the bill of Miles’s UCLA ball cap. “How do you feel about the way your call with Brian went this morning?”
Because while Decker handled it last night, he wasn’t letting the kid off that easy. So before the crew arrived, he woke Miles up and made him call Brian. By the silence on Miles’s side, Decker could tell it was more of a one-way diatribe and lecture. But in the end Brian gave in.
“Are you kidding? He can’t get ahold of me now,” Miles said. “I get to get my hands dirty.”
“Getting your hands dirty doesn’t always pay the bills.”
He shrugged. “At least I’d be happy.”
Decker knew Brian, and no matter how happy the kid was now, there would be an aftermath to that call. And Decker was stuck square in the middle. But if it meant getting to know his nephew and passing on his parents’ craft, then he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“That’s what you did. You followed your heart and made it in the NHL.”
“But after I blew out my knee and it was over, all that was left was this persona.”
“Then let people get to know the real you. And don’t make any more sex tapes.”
Decker ran a hand over his face, feeling the raw stubble against his palm.
Shit, it had gotten to the point that he was taking advice from an eighteen-year-old, but it was good advice. Clearly the kid knew more about the inner workings of a woman’s mind than Decker. That had to change. Because maybe he wasn’t as emotionally in tune with women as he thought.