“See you in an hour, Belle.” My voice is gruffer than usual. “Be good.”
“If you need to work and want to stay close, the café next door has decent coffee, Wi-Fi, and some private tables in the corner,” Poppy says.
“That sounds great. But I’m not sure how private it will be with an audience.” I tip my head at the people still milling about and staring from the back of the room.
I shouldn’t complain. My life as a celebrity could be worse. Perhaps because I didn’t get my start as a teen idol, I don’t have the same rabid fan base as my pretty-boy costars, Chase James and Sebastian Blake. If they showed up in a bookstore, it would turn into a riot. My admirers tend to be calmer. More chill. And because of my action-star status, I have as many male fans as women. The men ask me about my workout routine. The women ask me to take off my shirt.
“Go out the door behind us. There’s an alley that leads to the coffee shop,” Poppy whispers, stepping close to me so she isn’t overheard.
“Thanks for the tip,” I murmur, swallowing hard against the urge to take her in my arms. “Do you do private art lessons?” I ask on a whim.
My question is practical. If Belle wants to take these classes regularly, I’d prefer not to deal with the other parents every week. It’s not because I want to see Poppy again. At least that’s what I tell myself.
She tilts her head. “I do on occasion. How often?”
I scratch my jaw. “We could start with once a week and go from there? We’ll be in town for a few months. I can call you and make arrangements.”
“Oh! Sure,” she says, flustered. “Let me find my card.” She turns and rummages around on her worktable.
“Aha! Here it is!” She hands me a paint-smudged card with a bright, whimsical logo.
“Great! So call me,” she says when I take it. Her face turns pink. “About a lesson, I mean. Or…don’t. Either way.”
“Ms. Poppy, Johnny is painting his leaf. And he’s also painting Caroline,” a girl interrupts us. I look up and am both proud and appalled that I know her hair is in a bow bun. I attempted one two days ago. It didn’t end well.
“I am not!” a curly-haired boy says. But the paintbrush in his hand and the orange evidence on the arm of the girl next to him would say otherwise. Her hair is hanging messy and straight. She has no bun, braid, bow, or clips. I’m jealous of her parents.
“Are too!” the bow-bun girl retorts.
“I better start this class before they revolt,” Poppy says, stepping toward the arguing children.
Belle is sitting in the front row, shyly talking to a girl with pigtails—which are crooked. Naturally.
A loud crash echoes from the back of the class as a boy knocks over his paints.
“The parents are distracted. Quick, go now,” Poppy urges.
As I slip out the back door, I put the card in my pocket, trying to identify this feeling. Excitement. Anticipation. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything for a woman besides occasional lust. I remind myself that I’m here temporarily. And I’ll have my hands full juggling the movie and the demands of fatherhood. I don’t have time for anything else.
So I’m going to have to forget about the pretty art teacher.
CHAPTER6
81 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS
Poppy
The next day,the door jingles as I walk into Miracle on Main Street. Yesterday, I escaped Sadie’s interrogation after my class because she’d been busy with customers. But today, I know I won’t be so lucky.
I’m right. Sadie appears before me, wearing corduroy pants and a hunter-green turtleneck. She crosses her arms. “Poppy O'Brien, you aren’t going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on with your movie star stud.”
I laugh. “Don’t call him that. It’s so objectifying.”
“You’d like to do more than objectify him. Just admit it.”
“Fine. I admit it. But he’s way out of my league. There’s nothing going on.”Much, I think. Normally, I share everything with Sadie, but ever since I broke up with Derek, things are different. My heart’s more fragile. My emotions tilted off-center. I’m not heartbroken, not anymore. But I realized after Derek left me that I’d hung onto him and our relationship more out of habit and a fear of change than anything else. Before, I knew exactly what was in store for me. I was a teacher. I would marry my high school sweetheart. And we’d start a family.
My life was once an open book that I knew by heart—but now it has pages torn from it. It’s been trampled on. Tossed aside. But Ronan Masters, with his inscrutable stares, barely there smiles, and intoxicating kisses, makes me feel as if I’ve finally turned a fresh page, one that’s for my eyes only, and I want to keep that feeling to myself for just a little longer. I don’t want anyone else’s opinions to intrude on my fangirl crush.
