Chapter 20 À la Minute
à la Minute
Jack
“You sure you still know how to drive this thing?” Chester asks as we haul the last cooler onto his motorboat. “It’s been
ages, you know. I could tag along.”
“What, so you can stare at Poppy all day?”
He lifts his baseball cap, swiping at his forehead. “I still don’t know why you won’t.”
I squint up at the early morning sun. It’s plenty warm already, and clear for miles. Unless Florida decides to grace us with
an unexpected thunderstorm, there shouldn’t be a cloud in the sky for our trip to Horseshoe Island.
“She can’t stand me, for one thing.” A statement that I’d bet is painfully true after yesterday. I acted like a fucking asshole.
She deserved a dressing down after not listening to me around a hot pan, but I went too far. Way too far. The crumpled look
on her face when I called her a brat hit me like a gut punch.
Chester shrugs. “Doesn’t mean she’s not into you.”
“Dude.”
“What? One little hate fuck never hurt anyone.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How are things going with Kiara? Ask her out yet?”
“Low blow, man.”
“Then stay out of my business.”
“I take it back. She can do better than a prick like you, even for a hookup.”
I lunge for him like we’re sixteen again, acting like idiots because we can. He laughs, hauling himself onto the dock and
darting away. “Better choose quick. When I turn on the charm, ladies listen.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been using the same lines since high . . .” I completely lose my train of thought as Poppy strolls
onto the dock.
She smiles at me serenely. “Good morning.”
“What the hell are you wearing?” I have to admit, I expected a bikini. Probably pink, and definitely tiny. I warred with myself
last night, trying not to imagine what her ass would look like in a thong.
This, however, looks like something an Amish woman would wear to a lake. I can’t imagine she owned it already, which means
she took advantage of the afternoon off to go shopping. She quirks her head to the side, a smug smile on her coral-pink lips.
“What, you don’t like it?” She frowns down at the black fabric. Long sleeves. Full coverage. A zipper that goes all the way
up, practically to her chin. Her damned braid bobs behind her like a fishing lure. “I wanted to make sure I was wearing something
practical, since you didn’t give me any details about today’s . . . outing.”
Somehow, she manages to make that word sound filthy. My mind starts wandering in unfortunate directions. I grit my teeth,
jerking on my sunglasses.
Beside me, Chester hoots with laughter. “Darlin’, I like you more and more every time I see you.”
Poppy beams at him.
“You look like a nun on vacation,” I say caustically.
“A runaway nun. She’s missing her habit.” I hear Kiara’s voice first, and then I see her, clad in a sports bra and athletic
shorts, her black hair in a messy bun. She loops her arm with Poppy’s.
“What are you doing here?”
Kiara’s voice is as dry as overcooked chicken. “Poppy asked me to stop by after my run. Good morning to you, too.”
I drag my hand down my face, chastised. “Good morning.”
“That’s better.” She leans over, kissing my cheek.
“Do I get one?” Chester asks.
“No,” she says sweetly. “I still haven’t forgiven you for asking out my receptionist.”
“She didn’t say yes.”
“Obviously not. I’ve warned my staff away from you.”
I watch with amusement as they continue to bicker. I wonder what Kiara would say if Chester asked her out—really asked her
out, on a proper date. She never talked with me about her crush on him ages ago, but I could tell whenever she hung out with
us. And something about her energy around him now tells me that those feelings haven’t gone away completely.
“We’ll leave you to it,” I say eventually. “Poppy, get on the boat.”
“Two things first.” She crosses her arms, tilting her head to the side. “One, do you have any connections to the mafia?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“‘Poppy, get on the boat,’” she imitates, deepening her voice as much as she can. She doesn’t come anywhere close to my register.
“I’ll have you know that Julia is ready to call the cops if I go missing.”
Chester and Kiara break away from their argument, laughing like a pair of hyenas. I shut my eyes briefly, then open them with
effort. Poppy’s barely containing a shit-eating grin.
“What’s the other thing?”
“Ki and I came up with an idea after you so rudely sent me home yesterday.”
“What kind of idea?” I ask warily.
“We do a pop-up event at the restaurant. An exclusive dinner for invited guests, ahead of the official opening. Tasting menu,
special cocktails, the whole nine yards. We could generate a lot of buzz and be completely booked for opening night.”
“How amazing would that be?” Kiara says. “Dad would’ve loved it.”
I’m sure that part of Ki is hoping I’ll be lured in by success and want to stick around.
The contrary part of me wants to shut it down, if only to avoid giving her ammunition to keep trying to get me to change my plans, but they are right.
Exclusive events, especially in the fine dining scene, present opportunities too good to pass up.
There’s no better way to get people talking about my food again—and I can’t get back to New York without that.
It doesn’t escape my notice that even after I yelled and dismissed her, Poppy went back to work. Came up with another idea,
her best so far. I called her stubborn, but in truth, she’s tenacious.
“It’s a great idea.” I nod at Kiara, flip Chester off, then hold out my hand to help Poppy onto the boat. “Let’s do it.”
For all Poppy’s excitement on the dock, she’s quiet as we bounce along on the water.
She’s lounging on the bow of the boat like a model at a photoshoot, still wearing that ridiculous wetsuit. Her sunglasses
are round and cherry red, her legs unfairly long and tanned. I stand at the stern, driving the boat in the direction of the
horizon. A dozen more years of use hasn’t done it any favors, but at least it still runs. I’ll thank Chester again when I
return it later.
“Jack,” she says, once we’re past Hutchinson Island, the long, skinny barrier island running parallel to the mainland. “You
can at least tell me where we’re going.”
I breathe in a lungful of sea air. It’s been too long since I’ve been out on the water. I’d nearly forgotten how calming it
is. Especially on a perfect day like today, with a gentle breeze and all this unfiltered sunlight. This morning’s workout
did an okay job of quelling the ever-present restlessness in my limbs, but this is better.
“That idea really is awesome,” I say, once the silence feels pointed enough that I have to break it. It isn’t what I need
to say, but it’s a start. “Ki was right, Sal would be into it.”
“I’m glad.” She wobbles her way to the stern and takes a seat. Her braid whips in the wind. “Can I ask you something?”
“What kind of something?”
“Are you in love with Ki?”
The question is so unexpected, I jerk the wheel to the side accidentally. As I get us back on course, I glance in her direction.
“What?”
“She said you never dated. I asked.”
“We didn’t.”
“But are you in love with her?”
I shake my head, keeping my gaze on the horizon. “I’m not. We used to be close, just not like that. More like . . .”
“What?”
“Brother and sister,” I admit. Horseshoe Island is in view, its shoreline dotted with crooked palms. A fishing dock juts off
one side. “It’s complicated.”
“Define complicated.”
“That’s where we’re headed,” I say instead of answering, pointing at the island. I’m not going to get into my past today.
Not with her. “You’re going to help me with the anchor.”
“Jack—”
“The release is down there.” I nod when she finds it. She drags her teeth over her bottom lip reluctantly. “When we’re in
position, press it to lower it.”
“The island looks deserted.”
“It’s just a small local place. I brought snorkeling equipment. I figure we can fish, too.”
“Me, fishing?” She wrinkles her nose. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”
“It’s non-negotiable if you want to eat today.”
We anchor with only a few hiccups. I jump off the side of the boat, waterproof gear bag slung over my shoulder, and tread
water as I wait for Poppy. She unzips the wet suit, wiggling out of it clumsily. Underneath, she’s wearing a red string bikini.
She takes off her sunglasses slowly, a smirk on her face.
“What the fuck,” I splutter, inhaling a lungful of sea water.
She jumps in with a splash and comes up smug, her hair slicked back. She flicks water in my face. “How about this? If I get
to shore first, I don’t have to butcher any fish.”
“You really want to make that bet?”
She launches herself forward, paddling for the shore. I bite back a curse as I hurry after her. She wins—barely, and only
because of the weight of the bag dragging me down—and dances on the sand as I haul myself out of the water. I catch sight
of her ass, pert and tan, and swallow a growl as I toss the gear onto the sand.
“That bikini should be illegal.”
A slinky, sensual smile. This must be the version of Poppy that most men get to see. @itspoppywinfield in the wild. She puts
her hands on her hips. Thanks to the breeze, I can see her nipples through the thin bikini top. “I know.”
It’s like she wants me to lose my mind. There’s no way this isn’t payback for acting like such a dick to her yesterday. I
must not be as good at hiding my attraction as I thought. My burn, sealed beneath a waterproof bandage, throbs. I rub it with
a grimace.
Poppy frowns at me. “You okay?”
“Fine. Have you snorkeled before?”
“Not in a while. Why are we here, exactly?”
The water droplets on her skin are shining like diamonds. I think about licking them, then give myself a firm mental slap.
I forgot to take my fucking Adderall earlier; it’s no wonder I can’t focus. “I thought we could both use a day away from the
restaurant.”
“Or we’d kill each other?” She reaches across the stretch of sand between us for my arm. Her fingertip traces the edge of
the bandage. My skin prickles at her gentle touch. This close, I notice she’s wearing a pair of stud earrings. Pearls. Only
a woman like her would wear something that expensive with a bikini. The bathing suit itself is probably one-of-a-kind, too.
“Something like that.” I hiss through my teeth at her prodding.
“Sorry, sorry.” She lets go of me, chewing on her lip. “I want to apologize for yesterday. What I did was stupid. I didn’t
mean for you to get hurt.”
I wasn’t expecting her to apologize first. I reach out, swiping a few water droplets off her cheek. “And I’m sorry I called
you a brat.”
“Did you mean it?” She doesn’t sound upset. Curious, more than anything.
I should step away. Keep my hands to myself. My fingers curl around her jaw instead. I feel the motion as she swallows, and
it sends a bolt of fire straight through me.
“No,” I say, finally. “And I trust you.”
She blinks those aquamarine eyes. “What was that?”
The tips of my ears redden. I drop my hand. “Don’t make me repeat it.”
“Does this mean I get to film content while you fish?”
I sigh heavily. “As long as we set boundaries for filming in the kitchen.”
“Heard.”
“Then fine.”
She throws me a wink, then puts her sunglasses back on. “Excellent. Shirtless, if you don’t mind.”