Warren: I thought you’d never ask.
Braden: The club in thirty?
Warren: You got it.
My phone pings again while walking into the bedroom to change. It’s a text from Poppy—she actually sent me a picture. A smile instantly breaks out as I stare at her, standing in front of a full-length mirror wearing jeans, ankle boots, a modest sweater, and those glasses that make me want to bend her over a desk and fuck her.
No one would call her plain, but it’s not your typical dress-to-impress attire. So maybe it’s not a date. Or she isn’t the type to flaunt herself, which is more likely. Other than when we went to the club. That was a smokin’ hot Poppy, and I’m certainly glad it was me who benefited.
This Poppy is subtle, but if you take the time to look, you can’t miss the shape of the long, slender legs leading up to her hips, which are the perfect size to grip. The modest neckline still shows enough of her alabaster neck that I’d give anything to taste right now.
But the real prize is higher. Those fucking full lips that happen to be smirking. Those would be the first things I would worship if she were here. That luscious mouth would be devoured within seconds.
I’m hard at the thought but need to get a move on, so I toss my phone on the bed and enter the closet. I’m a suit and tie guy—goes with the profession. The slacks seem to stick when I go out, and my shirt collection rivals a clothing store. Needless to say, I’m a snazzy dresser.
Next is the bathroom to style my hair. Since it’s only fair to send a picture in return, I spend an extra minute making it perfect before grabbing my phone to snap one in front of the mirror with a smirk of my own. Might as well give her something to think about during her date.
13
RIGHT TRACK
Poppy
Damn, that man is sexy. I wasn’t expecting him to send a picture in return. Heck, I can hardly believe I sent him one to begin with. It’s so unlike me, but the one he sent back makes it very worth it. He’s obviously going out tonight with how well he’s dressed, and I’m surprised at the pangs of jealousy that creates. Which is crazy, mind you, since he’s absolutelynotwho I’m looking for.
Although the more I think about it, the more I’m considering giving in to Braden’s book club proposal. It might be fun to have a long-distance fling. Practice for the real thing, maybe?
Thank goodness I ran out of beer last night because my head could have been much worse today. As it was, the first thing I did when I got out of bed this morning was head for the medicine cabinet for ibuprofen so I could clean the house. Luckily, I muddled through. Now, I’ll still have my whole Sunday tomorrow to relax.
Part of me is mortified at everything I told Owen, and part of me is relieved. Confessing to my inexperience early on is probably for thebest, and the fact that he’s still interested makes it even better. Owen was so sweet after my awkwardfirst-timerevelation.
Braden, on the other hand, was an unexpected spinoff. I’m not sure what to think about him. He oddly stopped texting after suggesting we start a book club together, so I figured he must’ve fallen asleep or given up on me knowing I wouldn’t cave to phone sex. But then he surprised me with his text a bit ago, doubling his efforts about this club he’s trying to convince me of.
When the ping sounded and I saw his name, I was shocked at how giddy it made me. Maybe I have Stockholm Syndrome. Yeah, yeah, I know… that’s when someone kidnaps you. But he sort of did kidnap my body because it certainly hasn’t felt the same since he had his way with it.
I’m not sure how to proceed with either of them from here. Owen asked for another chat date tonight, to which I agreed. Unfortunately, I had to postpone, since Matt and I made dinner plans, but I told him I’d text him afterward if it wasn’t too late.
We decided not to do Truth or Dare again, which honestly makes me nervous. The game made it easier to break the ice, giving us a framework to follow. I’m a little worried if the conversation will flow as smoothly without it.
However, things with Braden were left unfinished. Surprisingly, I enjoyed the banter with Braden as much as Owen. The question is whether texting two guys at once is the same as dating two guys, and if so, is that wrong? Since I’m completely out of my element, I’m consulting an expert before dinner.
“Poppy! I was just telling my parents that I feel like we haven’t talked in forever,” Cici says, answering my call.
“That’s because we haven’t. How is Abby? You’re not sending enough pictures.”
“She’s amazing, and I know. I’m sorry. My brain shut off the minute she was born, and I became a walking zombie. I’ll send a few right now.” She puts me on speaker to hunt for the perfect ones.
I laugh. “While you’re doing that, tell me about Thanksgiving.”
“It was great. Lily and Sebastian came, and oh my God, I forgot to tell you, Lily had her baby two weeks early. They named her Samantha, and she’s fricking adorable.”
“Oh, how sweet. I’ll text her congratulations. How about Mia? Is she pregnant yet?” I figured she’d be right behind them. It’s like a virus—once one gets pregnant, they all do. Maybe I should move to San Diego.
“No. I don’t think they’re trying yet. But who knows? They’re in the longest honeymoon phase in the world and still spend most of their time at home.” She giggles.
“Makes sense after the struggle they had to be together.”
“No kidding. What about your Thanksgiving? How was it?”
