“Hadley is very passionate about sexual freedom and equality, the environment, books, and ridding the world of injustice,” Stevie explains, sitting on the arm of the couch, right by my side. “I’ll get her to tone it down next time you meet.”
“Now I know what to expect, it’s cool. These are not the kinds of conversations I’m used to having at parties.” I chuckle. “I would love my mother to meet Hadley. The look on her face would be more than worth the lecture I’d receive after.”
“That can be arranged.” Stevie smirks. “Though it’s probably not advisable if I want to get in her good graces. Something tells me I’ll have my work cut out for me with your mom.”
I thread my fingers through hers. “She’ll come around when she sees how much I care about you.”
“My Little Poppy hasn’t told me much about you, so I want to know everything,” Nana says. “Start from the beginning. How did you two meet?”
* * *
“So, are you scarred for life after that ordeal?” Stevie asks an hour later when we step outside.
“It wasn’t so much bad as unexpected, and I think I’ll be fine.” I squeeze her hand and grin down at her. “After hours of intense therapy.”
She throws back her head and laughs, and I’m glad to see it because she has seemed a little tense. “I’m sorry. I probably should’ve warned you more thoroughly, but I was dying to see how you’d hold up.”
We linger by my car. “Did I pass the test, or should I be worried?” I ask, raising our interlinked hands to my lips and brushing my mouth against her soft skin.
A gentle shudder ripples over her body, and I silently fist pump the air.
“You passed with flying colors. I knew everyone would love you, and I was right.”
“Your mom’s a hoot. Your nana is adorable, and well, the jury is still out on Hadley, but if she’s your oldest friend, I know she’s a good one.” I pull her in close to my chest, resting my hands lightly on her hips. “You wouldn’t be friends with anyone who wasn’t good to their core.”
“Hadsisgood people. She’s just…an acquired taste. Like absinthe, brussels sprouts, and liver.” A grimace crawls over her face, and I laugh.
“Will I ruin everything if I mention I love brussels sprouts?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” she says, making no effort to extract herself from my embrace. She beams up at me. “Though I’ll probably cope as long as you don’t try to kiss me after eating those hideous things.”
My eyes lower to her lips on autopilot, and my dick suddenly realizes how strategically we’re aligned, springing to life. It’s becoming problematic around Stevie. I am so turned on by her. Sometimes she just has to look at me, and I sprout a boner.
My tongue darts out, licking my lips as I note how her pupils dilate, and she strains toward me. Her gaze is fixated on my mouth, and tension bleeds into the small space between our bodies. Abstaining is the ultimate test, and I’m not sure I’m going to pass. “I want to kiss you so badly right now,” I admit, desire seeping into my gruff tone.
“Me too,” she whispers, tentatively lifting one hand to my face. “You’re so gorgeous, Garrick, and I really like you.” Her soft fingers brush against the light stubble on my cheeks. “But I’m afraid if we kiss now, we’ll never stop, and making out in your car in front of my nana’s house is not how I picture our first time.”
Pulling her to me, I press a kiss to the top of her head and briefly close my eyes. “Nor me. I think I should go.”
“Yes,” she agrees, albeit reluctantly.
Clasping her face in my hands, I tilt it up to look at me. “Before I go, I just want to ask if everything is okay. You seemed a little preoccupied back there.”
“You caught that, huh?”
I nod, and she sighs. “Nana told me some bad news. The roof of her barn collapsed, destroying her shop and ruining thousands of dollars’ worth of supplies. The insurance won’t pay out, and she doesn’t have the money for repairs and replacements. I’m worried about her business.”
“That’s not good.”
“No, it isn’t.” She sighs again, and I hear the pain behind the exhale.
“Is it far from here? Can you show me?”
“It’s only a ten-minute walk, and yes, if you like. I wouldn’t mind seeing the damage for myself.”
Stevie retrieves her overnight bag from my car and darts back into the house to change her shoes. She reappears a few minutes later wearing boots and a cardigan. After grabbing my hoodie from the car, we set out on foot, hand in hand, and Stevie points out things as we walk past row upon row of greenhouses.
I draw to a stop when we reach a large field of poppies, blowing gently in the dark nighttime breeze. “Does this have anything to do with Betsy calling you Little Poppy?” I ask, pulling Stevie in front of me as I turn us to face the field. My hands skim around her waist as I hold her flush against my chest and rest my chin on her shoulder with my face pressed against the side of hers.
