“Good.” Cami upped her bald appraisal.
“Cami.”
“Mmm?”
“Need I remind you you’re happily married with 1.8 children?”
“I’m well aware of that.” A wistful sigh. “Who is he?”
“I have no idea.” Poppy stuck to her lie.
“Right,” Cami scoffed. “I saw you talking earlier and I refuse to believe you didn’t even get his name.”
“Believe it.” If she refused to waver, she hoped Cami might.
No such luck.
“Then I think we should introduce ourselves. He probably doesn’t know anyone. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Cami, no.” Poppy stepped sideways to block her path. She’d rather give up chocolate. And coffee. Forever.
“But look at him standing there all alone. He needs a friend.”
Poppy was immune to Cami’s wheedling tone. “I’m not going anywhere.” Cami’s belly knocked into her, but Poppy held her ground. “And neither are you.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” Poppy studied her sister’s face and realized resistance was futile. Cami would keep hammering and pushing until she got an answer. “His name is Beck.”
She banked on the fact that giving in would satisfy her sister so they could shift to a new topic, preferably one that didn’t send her blood pressure skyrocketing.
Cami had other plans. “Beck. Jamie’s cousin Beck?”
Poppy startled. She hadn’t expected Cami to remember his name. She’d been out of high school for more than a year by then and had spent that summer hanging out with her boyfriend and now husband. “Uh, yes.”
“The one you...you know.” Cami wiggled her eyebrows, implying exactly what “you know” she was referring to.
Poppy felt her entire body blush. “How did you...”
“You told me. Back when you were young and foolish.”
“Right. Of course I did.” She eyeballed her sister.
“Poppy, you tell me everything.” She put her hands on her hips. “Wasn’t there some swooning about the scent of sawdust?”
Poppy closed her eyes. She’d forgotten that part. Beck’s family had been building a guesthouse, which he’d taken over for the night, setting out candles and flowers and romancing her out of her pants. Not that it had required much effort on his part. She’d been more than half in love with him even before he told her he was falling for her. She opened her eyes and disregarded the sudden ache in her chest.
“He never did call,” Cami remembered.
Of course, her sister would recall that particularly humiliating part of the story. Poppy snatched her wine back and took a large sip. “It’s in the past. I’m over it, though I’m not thrilled he’s here, so if you can prevent your hormones from introducing themselves, I’d be grateful.”
Cami glanced over Poppy’s shoulder and sighed. “He sure grew up nice.”
“Cami.” Poppy’s voice carried more than a warning note. More like a red alert complete with flashing lights, bullhorn and threats of being surrounded.
“What?” Cami blinked, all innocence. “Maybe he regrets his former actions.”
Poppy doubted that. “Let it go, okay?”
“I thought you said you wanted to get back to dating.”
“I do.”
“So why not start now? It’s a wedding, romance is in the air.”
Poppy stared at her sister. Had Cami forgotten how awful that time had been? How Poppy had cried herself to sleep for two weeks and spent her entire senior year single? The only reason she’d even gone to prom was because Jamie had dragged her. He’d been unaware of what had happened between her and Beck, and she’d been too embarrassed to tell him. “He’s a jerk.”
“A handsome jerk,” Cami corrected.
Poppy didn’t care. “Promise me you aren’t going to try anything.”
Cami continued to gawk at Beck. “I make no promises. Being pregnant makes a woman do crazy things.”
“I don’t think it’s just the pregnancy.”
Cami glared. “I heard that.”
“You were supposed to.”
Poppy noticed Jamie break away from his entourage and head toward the house. Her pulse jumped. This could be her chance.
“Where are you going?” Cami asked as Poppy started after him.
“I’ll find you later, okay?”
She walked off without waiting for an answer.
CHAPTER THREE
BECK FOLLOWED POPPY as she slipped through the crowd. People were getting into the party spirit now, kicking up their heels in time with the band, having a blast. The party was a hit. Beck barely gave it a second thought.
He had other things on his mind. Like why Poppy Sullivan was pretending she didn’t know him. Saucy minx. He knew he wasn’t forgettable. At least, not according to the women he dated.
He watched as she sidled around a large group, nodding cheerfully to those who called out her name, but never wavering in her path toward the house. He trailed after her. She’d grown up nice. Very nice.
She’d always been attractive. He remembered those snapping blue eyes and her shiny fire-colored hair—he’d gotten up close and personal with them one memorable summer. And he wouldn’t be averse to doing it again.
Assuming he could convince her to talk to him. And keep his mother from trying to shove Grace on him.
He’d spotted his mother chatting up Emmy’s younger sister only minutes earlier. He didn’t need to be psychic to know the next phase in her plan would be to drag the poor girl over to him and proceed to try to force them to have a connection.
She’d probably kick her plan into overdrive at the brunch on Sunday.
The thought made the scotch in his stomach burn. While Beck had only met Grace briefly this afternoon, it had been enough to know his mother’s hopes of a love match were unfounded. Even if he did ever want to get married, Grace wasn’t his type. Not even close. She was pretty enough and seemed pleasant, but he wasn’t interested.
Beck watched Poppy’s butt as she slipped through the large sliding doors that led from the patio into the house. Now, there was a woman he found interesting.
He followed behind her a minute later.
The sliding doors opened into a spacious great room with a state-of-the-art entertainment system. Beck knew because he’d personally picked out the equipment for Jamie last Christmas. He might not spend a lot of time with his family, but he never skimped on gifts. He was pleased to see Jamie using it.
The music and chatter from the backyard quieted as he closed the door and moved farther into the house. He knew the layout well since Jamie had grown up here and in the summer Beck had too.
They’d spent their days racing from the pool to the kitchen and back again, sliding across the tile floor and ignoring their mothers’ warnings to be careful or they were going to crack their