Not Another Wedding. Jennifer McKenzie
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party. Or fighting.
He’d thought about heading back down the side path that led to the unfinished guesthouse, grabbing the blankets and pillows, some candles, too, and sleeping on the dock. He could watch the stars and the sunrise on his own.
But he’d heard the raised voices, and he’d known he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Victoria, I didn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me. I heard the message. I heard her voice. You promised you’d never do that again. Never.”
“I didn’t, you have to believe me.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Victoria...”
Beck had slipped through the front door, but not quietly enough to avoid catching their attention.
“Beck—” his mother’s eyes had been like ice “—pack your things, we’re leaving.”
“But—”
“No buts. Your father—” she’d paused long enough to shoot him a look that probably froze the man’s bits off “—has a friend coming to stay.”
Beck had looked at his father as his heart sank. Again?
“No.” Harrison had shaken his head. “That isn’t true. You misunderstood the message, Victoria. Let me explain.”
“Beck, let’s go.”
They’d left that night, headed back to Seattle, where she’d served his dad with divorce proceedings. It wasn’t the first nor the last time they’d tried to drag him into their mess of a relationship. But it was the first time he’d understood he didn’t have to let himself be dragged.
Rather than staying with his mother in Seattle, watching while she packed up his father’s belongings and stuck them in the garage until he came and took them to his new house, Beck had moved in with a high school friend for the remainder of the summer and then bolted to his university dorm for the start of his freshman year.
Living on campus, away from the parental hubbub, made it easy to avoid phone calls and family dinners. He had essays and labs, finals to prepare for. He told them he wanted to get the full university experience, which wasn’t possible if they called him home every other weekend.
His mother paused midsip and put the cup down untouched. “Beck, I—”
He cut her off. “Don’t. Just don’t.” He didn’t get upset about the past. Not anymore. “It was a long time ago.”
“You’re still upset.”
“I’m fine.” He wasn’t, but he didn’t want to have a long, detailed discussion with her either.
“I’d like to talk about it.”
“Another time.” He gestured at his computer screen where his in-box sat empty. “I have to work.”
“Right. Of course.” Her smile, though friendly, didn’t reach her eyes. She rose and carried her cup to the sink. “I’m looking forward to meeting Poppy.”
Beck kept his eyes on the computer screen.
“I want you to be happy.”
He raised his eyes and forced the smile she wanted. “I am happy.” But he’d be a lot happier once this wedding was over and his life returned to normal.
* * *
“ARE YOU GOING to sleep with him?”
“Cami.” Poppy’s cheeks burned, no doubt returning to the red state they’d been in all last night. “It’s just a brunch.”
That’s all it was: brunch. Just because he was still deliciously attractive, the kind of attractive that made a woman consider her stance on one-night stands, didn’t mean Poppy would. He’d hurt her once. Badly. And though she’d moved on and he’d offered up an apology, she wasn’t sure she was ready to forgive him.
Her sister, brother-in-law and niece had turned up at the house about ten-thirty Sunday morning in a whirlwind of pregnant demands and laughter. Holly was currently running around the backyard, entertaining her father and grandparents with her imitation of an airplane, which left the sisters alone inside.
Poppy realized this was all part of Cami’s plan to make sure she was around to check out Beck for herself.
Poppy had tried to figure out a way to avoid the brunch, but had come up with zero options. And when she’d texted to tell Beck she’d drive herself, he’d refused and told her he was picking her up whether she liked it or not. Which was why she found herself now with one ear on the conversation with Cami, and the other listening for signs of a car pulling up. If she was quick, she might be able to get him out of here before the third degree.
“I didn’t mean during the meal.” Cami grinned and settled into one of the chairs around the table in their parents’ kitchen.
“Not any other time either,” Poppy said, though she couldn’t deny the lightning bolt of attraction that zipped through her when she thought of Beck. Whatever. She was an adult now and not interested.
She wore nude-colored heels and a simple green dress with white polka dots that was cinched at the waist with a skinny purple belt. Her hair was tied into a loose bun, showing off the dangling purple earrings that matched her belt. It was going to be another hot day, so she’d decided on a minimum of makeup again. Not that anyone could tell over her blazing cheeks.
“If you need privacy,” Cami continued, a smirk spreading across her face, “I can get Mom and Dad to clear out for the afternoon. You can use your old bedroom.”
Poppy shot her a dirty look. “Why are you here anyway? Don’t you have your own house to eat breakfast in?”
“I do, but I’m too tired to cook, and Mom promised Holly pancakes. So? Should I tell them to make themselves scarce?”
“Of course not.” Poppy brushed at the flirty skirt of her dress. It was immaculate, but she needed to do something with her hands before she strangled her sister.
“Why not? He’s hot. You’re single.”
“We don’t even live in the same country,” she told her sister.
“Who said anything about that? I was just talking about the fling you could have, allowing me to live vicariously through you.”
Poppy stared pointedly at Cami’s stomach. “I don’t think you need to live vicariously through any fling I might have.”
“Who’s having a fling?” Rose stepped into the kitchen, carrying a bouquet of fresh-cut peonies. She pulled a vase down from the cupboard and filled it with water before arranging the flowers inside.
“There’s no fling,” Poppy said.
“Poppy and Beck,” Cami answered. “Don’t you think they make a cute couple?”
“Adorable.” Rose glanced up from the flowers with an interested expression. “Does this mean you’re going to sleep with him?”
“No,” Poppy said, trying not to shout. But really, talking to the two of them was like conversing with a brick wall. “It’s just brunch and I’m not talking about this with you.” Having the sex talk with her mother as a kid had been scarring enough. Wasn’t it sufficient that she knew the basics of how to protect herself and her body? Did she have to share the details of who, when and where too? Even though there would be none of that with Beck.
“Well, if it’s just brunch, there’s no need for you to get so upset,” Rose said, her voice mild as she carried the flowers over to the table, placing them in the center.
“Classic overcompensation,” Cami agreed.
“What part of not wanting to talk about this did you two miss?” Poppy checked the front window,