Page 117 of Pucking Sweet

“You want to take it back?”

He nods.

“Which part?”

“All of it. Is that possible? But especially the part about the ultimatum. That was selfish and unfair. You are your own person, Pop, with your own feelings and life and romantic connections that you’re free to make with whomever you choose. I don’t get to have a say in what you do, and I definitely don’t get to be upset about it. I was a jerk, I was wrong, and I’m apologizing.”

Well, this is unexpected.

“I hope I can earn your forgiveness, maybe even gain back your trust too. And since actions speak louder than words ... here.” He slips his hand inside his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. Reaching out across the breezeway, he hands it to me.

I unfold it, quickly scanning what looks like an online receipt. “What is this?”

“I had Novy place bids for me on some of the stuff at your silent auction,” he explains. “I won this. It’s a sunsetcruise down in St. Augustine. I was going to invite you to go with me, but now I’m just giving it to you.”

“Colton—”

“I think you should take Novy.”

My heart skips. “You do?”

“Yeah, he’s never been on a boat, I don’t think. More importantly, he’s never been courted by a woman of your caliber. He’s a good guy, Poppy. Under all the bravado and bullshit. He’s not easy to love, but you’re trying anyway, and I think that’s commendable.”

My mind feels fuzzy, like someone’s spinning cotton candy inside it. “You think it’s commendable that I’m fighting my attraction to another man?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “And you don’t have to keep fighting it on my account. You could do a lot worse than Lukas Novikov.”

“Oh, trust me, I have,” I say, folding up the paper and slipping it in the pocket of my shorts. My heart is racing as I glance up. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me. “Is this you telling me you’re bowing out? Do you cede victory?”

In a single step, he crosses the breezeway, backing me against my apartment door. He’s so close, his woodsy scent enveloping me. But he’s not touching me. My body is screaming with the need for connection, but instead he hovers, not taking what both of us so clearly want.

“I’m not bowing out of a goddamn thing,” he says, his voice low.

I tip my head back, palms flat against the door. Heart on my sleeve, I say exactly what I’m thinking. “Please tell me I haven’t lost you before I ever even got the chance to try for you.”

His hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheek. The moment our skin touches, a charge of electricity jolts through me. I’m magnetized by him, locked in place through this point of sacred contact. “I haven’t gone anywhere,” he says, kissing my brow. I arch up on my toes, seeking more contact. His hand smooths over my cheek and around until he’s burying his fingers in my French-braided pigtail. “Poppy, baby, I’m right here.”

My hands fist his T-shirt as I pull him closer. I drop my forehead to the middle of his chest and breathe him in. His arms wrap aroundme, one at my shoulders and the other at my waist, and we just hold each other. I feel moored to him. “Do you want to come in?” I say again, meaning it this time.

He groans. I feel it rumble against my chest. Then he pulls away, cupping my cheeks with both hands. His gaze is soft as he smiles down at me. “I would love nothing more…but you need to talk to Novy first.”

I lean away, my hand wrapping around his wrist. “Why? What happened?”

He shakes his head. “Just square everything with him, then come find me. I’ll still be waiting.” His words echo what he said on the beach. Only this time, they hold the promise of more.

Pressing one more kiss to my forehead, he walks away.

39

The front door slams shut as a shrill voice calls through the beach house, “Look out ladies, the fun has arriiiiived!” Of course Olivia Monroe is the last one here. I bet she’ll be fashionably late to her own funeral. Seriously, this girl should come with a warning label—and a complimentary hangover IV drip.

“Gird up your loins,” Tina mutters.

I grin at her, rolling my eyes. Olivia is the main reason I invited Tina. I can’t possibly handle her on my own, not with the way she spins my sister up. They bring out the worst in each other, like a perfect storm of mean girl nastiness. And the more they drink, the nastier they get. Good thing Tina isn’t afraid to slap a bitch.

Olivia sweeps into the kitchen, waving like she’s Miss America. Her ash-brown hair is blown out, her expensive extensions nearly reaching her waist. She’s wearing a hot pink bedazzled jumpsuit.

“Livy!” Violet squeals, racing around the kitchen island to wrap her arms around her best friend.