“You haven’t watched hockey the entire time we’ve lived together, and this isn’t even hockey. You’re trying to make a point.” I picked up my paintbrush and dipped it in the red paint I’d mixed earlier that day. I’d been trying to finish the poppy for weeks, and now all I had was a photo I’d had to take.
Avery sighed and muted the TV. “I don’t get it. It’s been three weeks. This shouldn’t bother you, and if it does, you need to call him.”
“I think he’s doing just fine without the random redhead he spent a weekend with,” I retorted. Especially if the figures the media were throwing around were correct.
“Poppy. You’ve started following the news on the Storms and you actually Googled him last week.”
“I’m not following anything. It’s that freaky thing the internet does when it gives you ads about things you’ve never Googled.”
“Okay, so what about Googling him?”
“I don’t have to justify my Google searches to you. I didn’t make you explain when you searched for lesbian porn.”
She shrugged. “Totally straight, but it’s hot.”
“Your porn is your porn. He’s my porn, and I had a moment of weakness.” I added a smidge of detail to a petal. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“It didn’t mean anything? I think you miss him, or you wouldn’t care so much that he’s on TV.”
“I don’t know him enough to miss him.”
“You know him plenty!”
“I’m trying to concentrate over here, Aves.”
She shook her head and put the volume back on.
All right, so I wasn’t over it. It bugged me. I didn’t want to see his face if I couldn’t kiss it and I didn’t want to hear his voice unless it was in my ear.
Three weeks. It’d been three weeks and I’d thought about him every day. I’d drafted texts I’d never sent and hovered on the call button way too many times, but I’d never been able to do it. How lame was I?
“Can you at least turn it down if you won’t turn it off?” I asked Avery.
“Nope.”
That was that, I guess.
I did my best to block out everything that was coming from that direction to focus on adding the finer details to my poppy. The seeds, the shadowing, the tiny things that would preoccupy my brain and stop me paying attention to him on the TV.
I even hummed. Hum, hum, hum. A tune I didn’t even know, but one that was designed to make me not listen.
“Oh my God call him!” Avery yelled, throwing the remote in my direction.
I ducked, and it hit the fridge behind me, falling to the door. The back popped off on contact, meaning the batteries went scattering across the floor.
“If that still works, you’re gonna be so lucky,” I told her.
“Poppy.”
“No.”
“Poppy.”
“Go away.”
“Poppy!”
“No!” I was about to throw something of my own when my phone rang. I pushed the chair back and glanced at the screen. “It’s my dad,” I told her expectant face.
She sulked and went back to watching Adam.
“Hey Dad,” I said, answering. “What’s up?”
“Your mother wants to have dinner this weekend,” he said without even greeting me.
“Can’t wait.”
“And she wants Adam there.”
I froze. “What—what does she want him there for?”
“She said she didn’t get to speak to him as much as she’d liked at the wedding, and since we’re coming for a meeting, if he’s in town, she’d like to see him.”
Shit.
Fuck.
Ass.
Assfuck.
I was in trouble.
Again.
“Oh, right, well, um.” I turned away from Avery’s flapping hands. “When is it? Saturday?”
“Yes. At six. She booked a table already.”
“At least I don’t have a cook,” I said. “I can see if he’s free. He’s pretty busy at the minute.”
“I saw his new deal. Cool, huh?”
“Yep. Very cool.” Please stop talking.
As if he knew what I’d been thinking, Dad coughed. “Right, I should be off. Have a conference call coming. Just thought I’d give you the heads up.”
“Thanks, Dad. Appreciate it.”
“Love you, Pops.”
“Love you. See you Saturday. Bye.” I hung up and put my phone on the table, clapping my hand over my mouth.
Avery got up and walked over to me. “What’s wrong?”
“My parents are coming into town for dinner on Saturday.”
“Oh no.”
“And they want Adam there.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” I slumped into my chair and buried my face in my hands.
“Well,” she said, opening the fridge. “I guess you have to call him after all.”
I flipped her the bird. “I need to think.” I got up and walked to my room, shutting the door behind me.
Then, I flopped face-first onto my bed and screamed into my pillow.
Fuck.
***
I pocketed the tip from the not-so-generous table and tossed the ticket in the bin. Today had sucked—work had been good, but my mind wasn’t fully focused. I couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid dinner.
I hated past me. She was an idiot.
“Hey, Poppy? You have a new table. He’s been there a few minutes.” My curvaceous co-worker Yvonne slipped behind me, rubbing her sizeable bosom against my back, to get to the register.
I looked up. “Oh, thanks. I’ll head over there now.” I pulled my pad out of my purse and clicked my pen as I approached the table. “Hi, I’m Poppy and I’ll be your server this evening. What can I get you?”
“I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger.”
Oh no.
“With a lemonade.”
Oh fuck.
“And a conversation?” Adam Winters dropped the menu and looked at me with a smile that sent my heart skipping through the roof.
My lips parted, but no sound came out. I was completely frozen in place, except for my heart. Holy hell, that thing was beating.
Me? I was dying.
“Well, I was expecting shock, but not total horror,” he quipped.
I brought my hand to my mouth and stifled a small laugh. “I’m sorry. I just—yeah. I didn’t expect you to be hiding behind that menu.”
“Surprise.” He smirked. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Uh…I have to finish my shift.” I moved uncomfortably. “It’s like thirty minutes. Can you wait?”
“I didn’t order a burger to sit and stare at it, Red.”
A shiver went down my spine at the nickname. “Oh—you, you actually want the food?”
He scratched at his jaw, grinning. “Yeah. If I’m coming in here, I’m breaking my diet.”
Of course. Of course he wanted food. Ugh, I was an idiot.
“Okay. Sure. What burger was it?” I swallowed.
“Bacon cheeseburger.”
“And a drink, was, uh…”
“Lemonade.”
I scribbled it down. “Is that everything?”
“Do I get that conversation?”
I nodded.
“Then that’s everything.” His smile was lopsided.
I dipped my head to hide my own. “I’ll be right back with that lemonade.”
It took everything I had in me not to run back to the counter and punch the order through the kitchen on the machine. My co-worker was still standing there, and she looked at me with a twisted smile.
“Is that Adam Winters?”
I nodded.
“Do you know each other?”
I cleared my throat. “You could say that.”
“You slept with him.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” I replied.
“So, what’s he here for? To deny his undying love for you? To profess his desire to have your babies?”
I coughed on my own spit. Seriously. “What are you smoking? No, here’s not here for that!”
She raised her eyebrows. “Girl, how do you know?”
“Because it’s not like that.”
“Yeah? Is that why he can’t stop lookin’ at you like you gonna be his dessert?”
I glanced over at him, and Yvonne was right. He was staring at me, a smile on his lips.
“Oh God,” I moaned, my cheeks flushing bright red.
“Mhmm,” she said, looking at me. “This more than a booty call, huh?”
“I get it from Avery at home. You stop it.” I tapped her with my pen and walked out of our station. “Don’t you have customers to serve?”
She glanced over at Adam appreciatively. “I’d like to serve yours,” she said with a wriggle of her huge bosom.
“Oh sweet Jesus,” I muttered. “Well, he wants a lemonade. You’re free to handle that.”
She tugged down her shirt and adjusted her boobs. “I got you, baby girl.”
I walked off, shaking my head and smiling. Lord, she was something else.
***
“Whatever Yvonne said to you, ignore it,” I said as Adam pushed open the door to the restaurant and held it open for me.