Page 1 of Poppy Kisses (Return to Coal Haven #3)

Chapter One

Poppy

My online remote tutoring student, Auggie, tapped at his screen, his gaze narrowed as he concentrated. The words he was writing appeared in the program on my end.

“Good,” I encouraged him, using the time he worked to study the rest of the house behind him. He was working at his kitchen table. Despite the high ceilings and dining room attached to the kitchen, it had an aged look. An old farmhouse? So much more room than the tiny, outdated motel room I was in.

If I’d had a better space to work, we could’ve met in person.

I was back in Coal Haven, North Dakota, and that was also where Auggie lived.

But my office situation was a work in progress, and I would be relocating to my brother’s house until I found something more suitable. Whenever and wherever that was.

“How’s that?” Auggie asked. He was bouncing. Probably swinging his legs. We were almost done, and he was about to jitter out of his chair.

I used the cursor to point out the tail on a P he’d flipped. “Not bad. Correct that and keep going—you’re on fire.”

He puffed out his lips as he worked. There was something familiar about Auggie and the way his short, dirty-blond hair stuck up in spikes. He’d run his hands through the strands, and something tickled my memories.

My family had moved from Coal Haven to Billings right before I’d entered high school, but I sort of remembered some students I’d gone to school with. Several of them probably had stayed in the area. They might be married and have kids Auggie’s age. Those kids might even be in fifth grade with him.

Would I know his mom or dad? Both?

Did I want to know until my employment and housing situations were secure?

I had worked with a private school in Casper, Wyoming, before I’d quit my job—before I would’ve gotten fired.

Now, I was subbing for an old college friend with her dyslexia tutoring company.

Right now, freelance work was the best option unless I wanted to be thirty and moving in with my parents in Billings.

Which was why I was ogling a nice house from my dark motel room.

A vacuum fired up in the room next door, and I grimaced. Could Auggie hear it?

He continued writing like he hadn’t. Debbie hadn’t told me his last name.

She’d given me a quick rundown of his personality—upbeat, hardworking, and full of energy—and where he was in the Barton System tutors like us used to teach our dyslexic students.

Then she’d turned him over to me for the summer, deliriously happy to have some help with her bursting schedule.

Her business had grown fast, and she had waiting lists of students needing help.

Amazing but not surprising since dyslexia was considered a learning disability, and families didn’t get help from their health insurance.

But Debbie hustled hard with fundraisers, and I got paid a decent wage when I took clients for her.

I looked at the notes she’d sent me for Auggie. Nope, no last name, just that he preferred Auggie to August, and he liked to be read to during brain breaks.

Auggie tipped his head down as he worked, his tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth. His bright-blue eyes faintly triggered a memory, as did the rodeo shirt he wore. He lived where ranching and rodeo were as common as the windmills dotting the countryside.

Auggie rubbed his eyes and squinted at me in the camera. “Are we done yet?”

“Almost. Finish the sentence and then you’re done.”

The material was harder for him. The signs were in his heavy sighs and tired eyes. We’d just started a new level in his lessons.

One of his sighs gusted over our connection, and he slid to another chair around his table, dragging the computer with him. The room behind him whirled through the screen. I was used to my remote students moving around when they moved spots or took their computer to a parent so I could update them.

During our hour, I’d spent the entire time in the same chair.

Auggie was on his fourth seat around his dining room table.

I’d seen the cute old house had been well cared for.

The living room ceiling arched behind him, and the kitchen was an open square.

There were sliding French doors on one wall.

I think he was across from them now. I got a peek at some cabinets that were nicer than I expected to see in an old farmhouse.

“I need a drink.” He pressed a knuckle into his eye.

I checked the time. We were almost done, but he was struggling with the last word. “Remember the happy rule you and Debbie went over?”

His lips pooched out again. “No short vowels at the end.”

“Right. They need to be closed off.”

His world-weary sigh puffed through the speaker, but he completed the word.

“You did it! Get yourself some water.”

Relief crossed his little face. The screen lurched again as he took the computer with him.

I chuckled. “Do I get some water too?”

“What?”

The world dipped and spun as he grabbed a cup off the counter.

Ice clattered. He must be standing at the fridge with an ice and water dispenser.

He was holding the laptop in the crook of his arm.

I saw his shoulder and the house behind him.

An enclave was off the living room, and a man passed through, wiping a rag over his trimmed hair, and disappeared into one of the dark rooms.

I choked on a cough. I’d only seen the guy from the side, but he was in gray shorts and a white T-shirt. His wide shoulders had flexed and bunched under the material of his shirt. Whoa. Either the camera loved him, or Auggie’s dad was a smokeshow.

The light flipped on in the room he’d gone into, flashing bright and then settling into focus. A bathroom. He was leaning over like he was washing his hands or inspecting a face I really wanted to fill my screen.

Auggie shifted his hold, and I craned my neck like I could look around him from my small motel room.

“One more glass,” Auggie said after gulping the first one down. My view jostled again. He must be filling the water.

“No problem,” I muttered. Just shift to the left. My left, not yours.

Wait, it would be his left, too, from the way the laptop was cradled in his arm.

The guy behind Auggie turned his back to us and yanked the shirt over his head. This time, I was the one letting out a gusty breath. Two things registered. Auggie’s dad had a delicious-looking bubble butt, and wow, his back was ripped. What were his abs like?

Then the man turned, and a quiver traced through my belly. His features weren’t the clearest, but I didn’t need detail to see that he was hot. Besides, his washboard stomach was on display. I’d been single for too long. I was riveted.

He spun around, exiting the bathroom and running a hand through darkish blond hair the same shade as his son’s. His biceps bulged with the movement. Then his gaze lifted to pin me in place right through the screen. His eyes widened.

Embarrassment filled me like I’d been caught peeping. I kind of had.

“Auggie, bud.” A man should not have that smooth and deep of a voice. “You’ve gotta warn a guy when you’re on the move with that thing.” He looked around like he was trying to find the shirt he’d tossed in the laundry basket. “Hi, Debbie,” he called.

The world spun as Auggie turned around. My back thumped against the wooden back of my chair. Whoa. I didn’t recall going to school with someone that hot, but they’d all been just entering their puberty-ridden years when I’d moved.

“Sorry, Dad. It’s not Debbie, remember? I have a sub.” I got a good look at the refrigerator as Auggie walked toward what I can presume was the table. The thunk matched the shaking of his screen, and he spun the camera to face his dad. “Poppy’s teaching me today.”

The dad looked like he was about to duck into the bathroom, then he gave me a double take and tilted his head. My screen filled with impressive pecs as he approached the table.

My mouth went dry, and I pushed back farther in my chair. “Hello,” I said weakly. What did swooning feel like? Was I doing it?

He braced a hand on the edge of the table and leaned in. The same chisel that formed his chest had been taken to this guy’s jaw. Even his nose was a bold slash on his face. His hair stood up in spikes, and his dark brows were drawn together. He studied me with stormy blue eyes.

“Poppy?”

I swallowed and nodded. “Nice to meet you. Auggie sure was fun to work with.”

His eyes narrowed for a heartbeat, then a slow grin spread across his face. “Hot damn, I’d recognize those freckles anywhere. Poppy Duke. How the hell are ya?”

My mouth turned into the Sahara for a different reason. He knew me. He knew my freckles. Not many people had pointed out my freckles when I was a kid, except for the boy who constantly challenged me and told me over and over again I’d never be the one he crushed on.

“Jensen? Jensen Hollis?”

“Yeah!” He laughed and slid the chair out to sit where Auggie should’ve been. Instead, he tugged his boy toward him to perch on a knee. “Auggie, Poppy’s an old friend of mine.”

Friend was stretching it. Pals, maybe. Buds. There’d been moments we’d been as close as best friends and then as acrimonious as exes, only we’d never dated. No. He’d had eyes for one girl only. He’d made it known every chance he could.

I bet if Hassie had freckles, they’d be cuter on her. Just one of the many ways he’d compared me and the other rung in our wheel of three who used to play together. Hassie Heart captured his heart in kindergarten.

Auggie blinked at me, then looked at his dad. “Okay.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. There were drips on his shirt from the water. “Can I eat breakfast?”

A lot of my morning students rolled out of bed and in front of the computer. I was no different. I refrained from attempting to tame all the strands that escaped from my hair.

“You two done? Did I interrupt?” Jensen asked.

No, your abs did. “Nope. Auggie finished everything he set out to do.”