I heard her laugh first. That full, unguarded laugh she had—the kind that made people stop what they were doing and look. I came around the side of the greenhouse and there they were. Danny leaning against the hood of his truck with his arms crossed, smile going full wattage. Poppy standing across from him with her head tilted back, dark hair catching the morning light, laughing at something he’d said like it was the funniest thing she’d heard all week.
She was wearing a green flannel shirt that was obviously new and those damn leggings. There was a smear of soil on her forearm. She looked like she belonged here. She looked like she’d always belonged here.
I’d spent ten years on this mountain alone, building a life that didn’t have room for a woman who I knew would taste like sunshine and smelled like jasmine. I was supposed to be the manwho didn’t need anyone, yet here I was, my pulse hammering in my throat just because she was breathing my air.
I’d known her for a week, and I was already losing my damn mind. It wasn’t just her smile. It was that freaking gorgeous body and the way she interacted with everyone. She wasn’t some rail-thin city girl. She was all lush, heavy curves—the kind of woman made for a man to disappear in. Every move she made was a slow, rhythmic pull on my sanity.
She knew everyone by name, and most of their history by now. I’d seen her asking questions about how things worked, pitching in at the end of the day to make sure everyone got home on time. And the people who worked for me? Everyone loved Poppy.
Everyone.
Again, that twinge in my chest I didn’t know what to do with.
My attention turned back to my current dilemma. Danny was looking at her the way a man looks at something he’s thinking about reaching for. He was staring at the way that flannel strained against the swell of her breasts, and I felt a primitive, violent urge to roar.
Every muscle in my body went tight and still, the way they did right before something went very wrong.
I was across the yard before I thought about what I was doing.
I didn’t say anything when I got there. I didn’t have to. I stepped up beside Poppy, close enough that Danny’s smile flickered—just a fraction, just enough—and I looked at him with the particular expression that had been clearing people off my mountain for years.
He straightened up off the hood. “Cord. Good timing, I was just about to come find you for the paperwork.”
“Good thing I saw you, then.” My voice was a low frequency warning. He gave me a weak smile and handed me a clipboard. I signed it and handed it back without breaking eye contact.
“Alright. I guess I’ll see you next trip, then.” He gave Poppy a sideways glance but didn’t smile. Smart man. I stood there, arms crossed and watched as he got into his truck and drove away.
Poppy watched him go, then turned and looked at me.
“That was rude,” she said pleasantly.
“He’s here to deliver supplies, not chat up my staff.” I’d been running from this since the sorting shed. Truth was, I’d been fighting it since the day she’d pulled onto my property and stood there with her chin up and called me a brooding mountain man like it was a dare to prove her wrong. Most women left me alone. She’d walked straight into the thick of me and started poking around.
She tilted her head, reading me the way she always did—fast and direct, nothing getting past her. “He was being friendly.”
“He was flirting.”
Poppy gave me a brilliant smile. “Yes, I believe he was.”
I wanted to put her over my shoulder and carry somewhere where no man would ever see that smile. I wanted that smile to be for me alone.
My jaw tightened. Did she want other men to flirt with her? Did she have any idea what it did to me, seeing another man notice the way her hips swayed?
I grunted.
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“Don’t get fooled by the smile and the company truck, Poppy. Men like that are charming because it works. Not because there’s anything behind it.”
She went quiet, those dark eyes steady on my face. Then the corner of her mouth moved.
“So I shouldn’t let a man’s attitude fool me?” she asked. “Good advice. I’ll keep that in mind. Because by that logic, I probably shouldn’t think you’re a broody mountain man either. I should think there’s something else behind all that glowering.”
“You’ve been pushing me since the second you stepped out of your car.”
“Pushing you how?”
“You called me a brooding mountain man.”
