Forever Starts Tonight (Wilder Family #4)

Chapter 8

Poppy

One week later

“No, I can’t wait too much longer for those fabric choices,” I told my rep. “We need to make our decisions on the summer throw pillows by next week, and you’ve already pushed us back twice.”

“I’m trying, Poppy,” she told me. “There was some shortage of the blue thread, and they had to pivot to a new distributor. I should have them to you by the end of the day. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”

With the phone wedged between my shoulder and my cheek, I waved at my brother Ian when he slipped through the door of the shop.

“Great, thank you. Once I have those in hand, I’ll email you as soon as we decide. Shouldn’t take long.” Pen in hand, I filled in the empty space next to Call on Pillow Designs with a neat little X.

Ian hooked a chair from the corner and, after sitting, plopped his big booted feet on the surface of my desk. I gave him an annoyed look, and he dropped his work boots down with his hands raised. “Looks like a ghost town in here. ”

I blew out a slow breath and sank into my seat. “I know. Ivy said she’s sending a couple of guys over soon to take the rest of this.”

The office where I spent most of my time was empty except for the desk and two chairs, boxes stacked neatly in the corner for my move to the new shipping warehouse across town where our new home decor business had set up shop while Cameron and his crew worked on the physical location that would be opening in the summer.

I always kept my office tidy, but it was strange to see it stripped bare.

A stack of papers and my to-do list for the day were on my desk. Now that I’d finished my calls and paid outstanding invoices to our subcontractors for plumbing and electric on the last job, I glanced at what came next.

-pick up Larry from the vet at three

“You unpacking at the new office today?” he asked.

In response, I gave him a small shake of my head. “Gotta pick up Larry in about an hour.”

“Who’s Larry?” Ian asked.

I arched an eyebrow. “Larry the barn cat? The black one with the white patch on his chest. He was the only one we kept this round.”

My brother’s face bent in confusion. “Who named him? That’s a terrible name for a cat.”

“I believe Olive was in charge on this last litter,” I answered.

“Ahh. That makes more sense. Why’s he at the vet?”

“Poor Larry got snipped,” I said, picking up the stack of invoices and clacking them into a straight line. The moving box on the top hadn’t been taped shut yet, so I pried it open and tucked the papers away, then yanked the tape dispenser across the top with a loud zip.

Ian grimaced. “Poor guy indeed. I hope they give him good drugs afterward. ”

“I will be sure to ask the vet for a male-approved painkiller. Lord knows you need them stronger than we do.” I smiled sweetly.

With a dry look, Ian ignored my jibe. “Why isn’t Mom picking him up? I saw her car at the house.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes slightly as I sat back down in my chair. “I think Mom is playing matchmaker. She’s told me seventeen times in the past month how cute the new vet is.”

“Seventeen, huh?” Ian asked.

“Close enough.” The door outside my office pushed open again, and when I heard low voices, I called out, “Boxes are in here, guys.”

One of the younger Wilder Homes employees came in first, tipping his head deferentially. “Poppy.”

I smiled. “Hey, Rob, thanks for moving these for me.”

His cheeks reddened, and Ian snorted quietly. I narrowed my eyes in his direction. Rob glanced behind him and nodded when the person behind him spoke.

All it took was the sound of his voice, and I sucked in a quick, sharp breath at the immediate pounding of my heart.

Jax’s eyes swept the office when he walked in, and my throat went dry at the way his black shirt stretched across his chest and the dark line of stubble across his knife-sharp jaw. When his gaze finally settled on mine, I couldn’t help but wonder if my cheeks had turned bright red too. What an inconvenient time to replay what my name sounded like in his sex voice as he came.

News flash—it sounded really fucking good. I’d only allowed myself to indulge in that memory twice over the past week when I couldn’t sleep. Okay, fine. Three times.

Get it together, Poppy, I hissed in my head.

“Jax,” I said coolly.

There was no hidden heat in his eyes. No lingering glance loaded down with subtext. Jax Cartwright, the absolute master of keeping his emotions in check, gave me a short nod. “Poppy.”

Rob took the first two boxes and left the office, and Ian asked Jax a question about the jobsite they’d just left. After answering, he took one of the heavier boxes and walked out.

Was that it?

Was that … all we’d be now?

I hadn’t really taken the time to form any sort of expectation, not enough that warranted this kind of empty disappointment.

This was what one night was like. And why he’d always been so careful in who he slept with. Because of moments like this.

The three of them emptied the boxes from my office in less than five minutes, and when Rob came back in for the last one, he gave me another smile. If he wasn’t fresh out of high school—seventeen, if I remembered right—it might have been sort of sweet.

Probably not the time to remember that the span of years between Jax and me was only one year different from the one between Rob and me. I blew out a slow breath through puffed-out cheeks when that math bomb dropped in my head.

With my arms crossed on the desk, I let my head settle on top of my stacked hands.

“This is too dramatic for me,” I whispered. With a sigh, I lifted my head and slid my hands over the marred surface of the solid wood of the desk.

With all the boxes gone, it was just me and the desk in the large, empty office. I wasn’t taking it because the shop would still get used, just not by me. Cameron and I decided it needed to stay right where it was, in the place it had been since Dad built it so many years ago.

I ran my hands over it, thinking about everyone who’d worked here and how much of our family’s history was embedded in this shop, office, and desk. My dad worked in this exact spot when he started Wilder Homes. There were scrapes on the surface. Nicks and dings from the rough treatment us kids had given it when we were younger.

I found pencil marks in the middle where I used to do my homework, and if I looked closely enough, I could make out letters and numbers. My eyes fell shut, only the slightest burn of tears pressing at the backs of my eyelids.

Memories of Dad sneaking his calculator out to help me with math, winking when Mom asked us if we got it figured out. I fought a hard swallow, emotion clogging my throat.

I hadn’t seen him sit at that desk for years, but the image was so clear in my head when I conjured it. All of this was his first, and we were just trying to steward it successfully and turn it into something that would last. That would make him proud.

Time passed, no matter what we did or how it refused to conform to our expectations.

My dad thought he’d be alive to watch us all start families and watch his grandkids grow. And he hadn’t.

But the heartbreak for all of us didn’t stop the days from turning into weeks, months, and years. I couldn’t let this stop me either, to wedge me into place in my own life.

I was not going to let this thing with Jax make me feel stagnant.

This part of my story was a whole new list to process, and I didn’t even need to write it down.

Pros:

I had experienced the kind of sex reserved for really well-written romance books.

A full week had passed, and I still had no regrets, because as previously established, regrets were bullshit.

Cons:

I had experienced the kind of sex reserved for really well-written romance books, and now he could hardly look at me.

I sighed, my chest feeling a little heavy. Expectations were a bitch, weren’t they? Jax had always been so very, very clear about what he wanted and didn’t want. There was no blurry communication, no words that could be misconstrued. And I’d been clear in return.

I could do one night, I told him. And this was the fallout of that promise. A stilted moment that made me wonder if I’d dreamed the entire thing.

No dreaming. No fantasizing. This was the real world, and I was perfectly capable of moving on if he was. So I fixed my ponytail, pulled a compact out of my purse, and checked my reflection before I went to get Larry, the testicle-free cat.

And honestly, I was glad I did because when Dean Michaelson—the new vet, the one I’d heard about seventeen times—walked into the exam room to talk to me about Larry’s post-surgical care, I about fell off my fucking chair.

Mark down a point for Sheila Wilder because holy bananas, he might have been one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen.

Ever .

He was tall, easily a couple of inches taller than my brothers, with a wiry, muscular build that had all those really sexy veins roping over his forearms. His hair was a dark gold color, cropped tight to his very nicely shaped head, and the man had a jaw crafted by the gods.

And when he smiled at me—all those straight, blindingly white teeth—I actually went a little speechless.

“You must be Poppy,” he said. His bright blue eyes traced over my face, that smile deepening until a dimple popped out. A dimple . When he shook my hand, I managed a swallow and a stammering sort of hello. “Your mom has told me all about you.”

“H-has she?” I asked. “Hopefully all good things.”

He laughed, the sound rich and deep, and I felt the beginnings of a tingle in my belly. “Excellent things,” he murmured .

I eyed him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Don’t the vet techs usually handle these appointments?”

His answering grin was completely unrepentant. “Yes.”

Dean was easy to talk to. He was kind and sweet with the cat as he explained exactly what we should watch for over the next week. He was funny, his eyes gleaming as he handed me his card with his cell phone added in black ink on the bottom right underneath his name. My cheeks felt warm when he pointed it out.

“You know,” he said slowly. “I do have one problem with what your mom told me about you.”

My eyebrows rose slowly. “What’s that?”

“She said you were pretty, but that’s just not an accurate statement.”

Honestly, this wasn’t even fair. Dean was just sitting there with a purring cat in his lap, one of his big hands petting down Larry’s arched spine, and I swear, I couldn’t find words. The symbolism of how he was handling that normally feral pussycat was about to make my brain explode.

“It’s not?”

Slowly, Dean shook his head. “She should have said you’re stunning. Far too beautiful to go out with someone like me, but I think I’m going to have to take a chance and ask anyway.”

The sound that came out of my mouth—part laugh, part shocked gust of air—was by far the most graceless articulation I’d ever made in my entire life, but Dean the vet thought it was hilarious, tipping his chin back and laughing, deep and rich and oh my word, how was every single woman in this town not dropping their panties at the sight of him?

They had to be.

Single men in Sisters were hard to come by.

Single, hot men were even more rare.

But single, hot, gainfully employed, good with animals, and even better with casual compliments men? Forget about it.

I didn’t need a pros and cons list to make this decision. Not even close. Because there was only one con I could think of.

He wasn’t Jax.

And that wasn’t enough of a reason to say no anymore.

So I took a deep breath and notched my chin up, daring myself not to get stuck in this place of pining and wanting and waiting for someone who might never want me in the same way.

“I’d love to go out with you,” I told Dean.

And I meant it.

He called me that night to set something up because he told me he couldn’t wait another day. And the following evening, as I pulled on my best date dress—a sleek pale pink number that dipped low over my cleavage and skirted my thighs—there was only one fleeting moment when I thought about Jax getting on a plane and being gone for months. Just once.

There was no point in lying that the one thought wasn’t painful. Where my ribs felt a little too tight, and my heart squeezed uncomfortably. But I forced that thought to be short, taking my time with my makeup and hair for a first date that I was excited about.

My mom was damn near giddy as she watched me leave.

Dean was, in no uncertain terms, the perfect first date. He opened doors. Pulled out my chair. Brought me to an expensive, romantic restaurant. Asked excellent, thoughtful questions. Laughed easily and often. Treated the server with kindness, leaving a huge tip at the end of the night.

And when he brought me back home, he walked me to the door and stared down into my face. There was no hiding that he wanted me. It was practically screaming from his eyes, the way they locked on my lips when I thanked him for a wonderful dinner. I waited for the eruption of nerves, the butterflies in my belly and lungs and veins, and even if it wasn’t powerful, I did feel something.

“So your mom might have told me that you’ve had trouble finding the kind of guy who warrants a second date,” he said smoothly.

I breathed out a quiet laugh. “My mom talks too much when she sees you.”

Dean grinned, that dimple popping again. “I do like a challenge,” he admitted.

One eyebrow arched slowly. “Is that what this is? See if you can win me over because others couldn’t?”

His eyes locked on mine so intensely that I lost my breath a little. “Maybe,” he admitted. “And maybe I think you’re worth chasing if no one else has been able to catch you yet.”

I bit down on my bottom lip to stem the immediate smile that threatened to bloom. He reached his hand up and pulled lightly on my chin, my lip escaping from my teeth.

“I’d love to kiss you good night, Poppy,” he said, his rich voice causing the slightest of shivers along my spine. Then he leaned down, and at the last minute, he turned his head and brushed a whisper of a kiss along my cheek. “But I think I’ll wait until our next date, if that’s okay with you,” he whispered against my skin.

Oh.

Oh he was good .

I managed a drowsy nod as he backed away.

“Can I call you tomorrow?” he asked, gaze searing into mine. “Not sure I can wait until the weekend to schedule that second date.”

My smile, and yes, was easy. And as I lay in bed that night, my fingertips brushing over my un-kissed lips, I wondered if moving on from Jax was as simple as this.

A good first date and the promise of a kiss from someone new .

Maybe it was , I thought, entertaining only the briefest of thoughts about what he was doing right now.

No. Not maybe. It was that easy, I told myself.

As I drifted off to sleep, I believed it, too.

Sort of.