Poppy sinks into a leather chair, and I take the one opposite her. At least it’s not the sofa, I think.
When we’re settled, I stare at the fire. So I don’t stare at her smooth bare legs.
“What are you and Belle doing for Thanksgiving?” She finally breaks the silence.
She must read the answer on my face because she says, “Oh, Ronan,” like she’s chastising a small child. “But what about Belle? She’ll be sad to miss it.”
Great. I rarely celebrate the holiday. I get invitations, but making small talk with acquaintances over an interminable meal isn’t my idea of fun. But then again, I’m annoyed by most holidays. All the expectations and the inevitable disappointments. The biggest expectation is that a person has a family. Which I don’t. At least, I didn’t until now.
“Belle’s been living abroad. I doubt she’s even heard of Thanksgiving.”
“She’s seen all the signs and decorations around town. She wants to try turkey and pumpkin pie.”
“Shit.” The last thing I want to do is to disappoint Belle. Now, I have no choice but to figure out how to give her a traditional Thanksgiving experience like NormanFuckingRockwell.
“Maybe…” Poppy smiles.
“Maybe what…?” I repeat warily.
“Maybe you two can come with me!” She claps her hands like Belle might. “To my family’s for Thanksgiving. It will be fun!”
“No—we’ll be fine.”
“Psh. Are you kidding? My family would be in heaven to have you there. Especially my mom. She could brag about you to her Zumba class. And Belle will be in heaven. The adults will spoil her rotten, and she’ll have my neighbor’s daughters to play with. Plus, we’ll have all the turkey and pumpkin pie she could ever want.”
I scrub my hand over my face. “We can’t. That would be too big of an imposition.” I leave the rest unsaid. That she’s an employee. It isn’t her place to invite us, and it isn’t our place to accept. It would break down barriers, ones I desperately require. Ones that are already fraying and on the verge of collapse.
Plus, I hate pity invites. It’s easier just to be on my own than play the outsider for the day.
But Poppy’s expression tells me she’s not about to take no for an answer.Hell.
She crosses her arms. “What are you going to do instead?”
“Belle and I can hang out together. I’ve barely seen her this week. It will be good to have the whole day with her. If she wants pie and turkey, I can order some in.”
With a mighty frown, Poppy leans forward until our knees almost touch. I hadn’t realized how close our chairs were positioned together. Her eyes glow in the dim light, and the fire burnishes her hair into a red-gold halo. “Thanksgiving isn’t just about turkey and pie, as heavenly as they are. It’s about family.” Her gaze slides away. “And friends.”
“Is that what we are? Friends?” I ask, my voice rough.
“I wouldn’t enjoy Thanksgiving if I thought of you two here by yourselves.” she ignores my question.
She lifts her head, and it’s all there in her eyes. Her sweet determination. Her stubborn kindness. Hell, maybe this is a pity invite. But being a father means setting aside my discomfort and pride to give Belle what she deserves. And yes, there’s a part of me that wants to spend the day with Poppy. She radiates sunshine, and Belle’s not the only one who basks in that light.
“You won’t give me a choice, will you?” I hedge, though the battle’s already won.
At that, she peers at me with a small smile. “What do you mean? You’re Ronan Masters, action star and heartthrob. I’m just a nobody who works for you. How could I make you do anything?”
“Bullshit.” The word is nothing but a forceful breath, but I can tell by the flare of her eyes that she hears it.
Since the night we first met, she’s become the center of my thoughts, enthralling me as much as she enthralled my daughter.
Her dissecting gaze splits me open, as if she can read my thoughts, discern my secrets. Even I don’t know all that lurks beneath my calm. Maybe I don’t want to know.
We’re leaning so close that we’re almost touching. Her gaze turns to the scarred skin on the back of my hand.
“What’s this from?” She rubs the line of my scar with her fingers.
“One of my first jobs doing more than just fight scenes. I hesitated jumping off a building, and I got caught in the cross fire of explosives. I never made that mistake again.” I say it casually to mask that I’d like to throw her on the couch and show her every last scar.
