One more spin and he put me down. My feet touching the sand had never felt so good, and I laugh-wheezed when he released me. I’d barely caught my breath when he stepped in front of me, cupped my face, and planted a huge kiss on my lips.
“Go and shower before I do it again,” he said in a low voice.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He took one step toward me.
You know what?
I wasn’t going to stay to find out, because I had a feeling he would.
The sound of his laughter following me up the beach as I ran away confirmed that.
***
“You’re late!” My mother barked the second I walked into Rosie’s suite.
“By five minutes. I had to shower.” I pointed to the towel still on my head.
“No excuses.”
“Mom, lay off her.” Rosie appeared from the bathroom. Her hair was done, and so was her makeup. Her makeup was flawless and natural, showing off the brightness of her eyes and the handful of freckles that were scattered over her nose. Her hair was pulled back at the front, two tiny French braids running along the sides of her head. The rest fell around her shoulders in loose curls. Tiny flowers dotted the braids, and one large one covered the place at the back of her head where the braids met.
“What?” she said, switching her attention to me.
“Nothing. You just look beautiful.” I reached out and squeezed her hand.
“I know.” She winked, and we both laughed. “Why are you late?”
“Adam threw wine on my hair.”
She shrugged. “That happens when you make out on a beach.”
I rolled my eyes. “Lay off me.”
She grinned. “Come sit down. Lori will get your hair done.”
I allowed myself to be guided toward a dining table that was littered with all manner of hair-things. Rosie sat me in one chair, nodded to a brunette, and that was that.
I sat for an hour being preened and primed. This had to have been how the Kardashians felt every morning. How did people cope with it? My head was tugged left and right. Brushes and wands and sponges and whatever else assaulted my face. I was on the verge of telling everyone I’d had enough when I was given the all-clear and told to get up.
I looked in the mirror.
Well, damn.
I looked good.
My makeup was the same natural style as my sister’s, and one side of my red hair had been pulled back and secured with a large white flower. The contrast of it against my hair was striking, and damn it, I felt pretty.
The bridesmaids all helped each other into our dresses. They were pale pink and flattering on all of our body shakes. The asymmetrical hems combined with a full but light lace skirts hid a multitude of sins, and the soft v-necks and spaghetti straps meant all our girls were supported even though we were all braless.
My sister had found wedding beach shoes that weren’t shoes at all, but rather material that tied around our ankles and went down to loop over our second toes so we were essentially barefoot.
We were all sitting in various places putting on our special wedding shoes when the door to Rosie’s bedroom opened.
I stilled as the other girls all gasped. Mom sniffed and reached for the tissues as she stepped out.
She was beautiful.
Her boho-chic dress hugged the top of her figure, with applique flowers perfectly positioned over it, before it flowed out at her waist into a loose silk chiffon skirt that made it look like the dress was made for her.
“Ro,” I said softly. “You look amazing.”
She swished the skirt side to side. “You think?”
“We know,” Mom said, gently kissing her cheek. She checked her watch. “Right? Is everybody ready? Is Celia—”
“Yes,” Celia said, pushing the door open. “Rory’s here.”
Rory stepped into the room, wearing a white shirt with a pale pink bow tie and gray shorts. “Mommy! You look like a princess!”
Rosie bent down and kissed him. “And you look very handsome.”
Mom checked her watch again. “Okay, girls, you need to head downstairs. The groomsmen will be waiting for you. Celia, you can go and take your seat, honey, thank you. Rosie, your father will be here any minute.”
We all gave one last check in the mirror, and we all made our way to the door.
Rory held his tiny hand up to me. “Ready, Auntie Poppy?”
“I sure am, buddy.” I took his hand in mine. “Ready to be the most handsome guy walking down the aisle?”
He nodded. “I’m ready.”
I laughed and, after blowing my sister a kiss over my shoulder, took the most handsome little guy to walk down the aisle.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – ADAM
Rings and Reality
I couldn’t stop staring at her. Not as she’d appeared at the end of the aisle clutching Rory’s hand. Not as she walked past me, shooting me a shy smile. Not as she stood at the front, lined with the other bridesmaids as Rosie and Mark said “I do.”
And, as Mark was told to kiss his bride, I still couldn’t look away, especially when she glanced my way.
She looked so fucking beautiful it was almost painful. Everyone’s eyes were on Rosie, but for me, Poppy stood out like a sore thumb. Her fiery hair was so much brighter than all the other bridesmaids.
Maybe it was because I was looking for her. Every time I tried to look away, my gaze gravitated back toward her.
And I think she knew it. She kept glancing at me, even when she was playing the perfect sister and bridesmaid.
It was magnetic. I had no control over how we looked at each other. I saw nobody but her, and it was fucking terrifying.
On paper, Poppy Dunn was nothing more than a beautiful stranger.
In reality, Poppy Dunn was a walking daydream with the allure of the devil.
Either way, I wasn’t strong enough to resist her. Not while she was around me. Not while her mouth shut me down and her eyes captivated me and her laugh sent me wild.
I had feelings for that crazy redhead, and they were nothing but bullshit.
She’d made her position clear from day one, and I was willing to agree. This was a four day thing. A fling.
A four day fling.
Nothing more, nothing less.
I had nothing against that. Nothing except the feelings I was quickly collecting for the little spitfire, but those were easy to hide. How fucking attracted to her and how much I wanted her were another thing, but my emotions?
I built a career on hiding emotions. I didn’t have the trophies and accolades to my name that I did by showing the opposition how I felt.
Poppy was, for all intents and purposes, the opposition.
Hiding how I felt about her was hard. I was attracted to her beyond belief. She was hot as fuck and sassy as hell—and everything else in between was so goddamn endearing I couldn’t stop the things I felt for her.
Sure. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want to clamp my hand over her mouth and shut her up every now and then. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want to kiss her soft lips and shut her up that way.
I applauded as Rosie and Mark made their way back down the aisle, holding hands with huge grins on their faces. I was happy for them. It was always nice to see two people who loved each other get their happy ending, and there was no doubt in my mind that they were with the person they were supposed to be with.
Slowly, the guests all started moving from their seats, and the wedding party at the front began to disperse. People branched out into groups, friends greeting friends with hugs and family greeting family with kisses and shouts of “It’s so great to see you!”
I slid out of the row of chairs when I was clear to do so, and I barely had a chance to do anything when I was stopped by two pre-teen boys. One was clearly nervous, shifting back and forth on his feet, but the other was markedly more confident.
“Excuse me,” the non-nervous one said. “But, um, are you Adam Winters?”
I could have said no. That would have been the easiest thing to do, but hell, I was one of those boys once. Plus, the wedding was over, and I had nothing to do during the photos, so…
“You caught me.” I grinned. “What are your names?”
“I’m Ross, and this is Ryan,” the talker said. “We were wondering, if, uh, it wasn’t a problem, if…” he trailed off, now just as nervous as the other boy who was now clearly his brother.
“If you could have a photo?” I finished for him.