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A raw scream of warning that I needed to ignore. An itch to claim something—someone—that wasn’t mine to claim.
The kiss ended quickly, and Poppy said something to him with their faces still close. He nodded intently, eyes briefly darting over to my truck before he said something back. When she pulled away, she wiped at her mouth and gave a small, rueful shake of her head.
He dragged his thumb over her bottom lip, and I dimly registered that my hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles went white.
I wanted to fucking rip his handsome fucking face right the fuck off.
This whole friendship thing was goinggreat.
The kids ran inside, followed by Greer and Ivy. Harlow went after them, and Beckett gave me a nod through the windshield and then jogged up the steps to follow his wife.
Cameron and Ian talked while I slowly exited the truck. Ian shoved his brother good-naturedly from behind, and Cameron gave me a look like, behave.
I rolled my eyes, but nodded.
As I approached Poppy and Dean, the guy slid his arm around Poppy’s waist, an easy possessiveness in his grip as they turned to face me.
Why were his eyes so fucking blue? God, I hoped he was wearing those fake contacts because that wasn’t even natural.
Poppy was clearly nervous, and I attempted as much of a smile as I was capable as I came closer.
Dean lifted his chin, bright, freaky blue eyes as clear as the fucking summer sky, like he had no reason in the world not to trust me.
“You must be Jax,” he said, taking control of the exchange by extending his arm. “I’m Dean.”
I took a deep breath and clasped his hand with mine, both of our grips instantly tightening. I didn’t flinch, but then again, neither did he.
It was a draw, as pissing matches went, but he still smiled. And why wouldn’t he? He still had his hands on the girl.
That was my own fucking fault, and he knew that too.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
Poppy glanced between us. “This is fun and not at all awkward.”
Dean glanced down at her and smiled—a dentist’s fucking wet dream, this guy’s teeth were. “So you were in Spain, right?”
When I nodded, Poppy’s shoulders relaxed. Tension that I hadn’t even noticed before, too wrapped up in my own spiderweb-tangled thoughts.
Cameron gave me an encouraging nod, and I let out a deep breath before answering. I could do this.
“There’s this set of trails I’ve always wanted to do,” I answered. “A pilgrimage, they call it.”
His face lit up. “The Camino de Santiago.”
Slowly, I nodded. “That’s the one.”
“Which route did you take?” he asked, his hand moving in small up and down motions along her side. She stared down atthe ground for a moment before raising her gaze to mine. Her cheeks were pink.
He probably had a PhD in loving affection and emotional regulation, the pompous prick.
I had to force myself back into the conversation, tearing my eyes away from Poppy’s in order to answer. “I took more than one, actually.”
“You’re kidding.” He let out a quiet, shocked laugh. “I’ve wanted to take the French route for years, but I was too busy finishing school to even consider it.”
“I started on the Northern route, actually,” I said. “Took my time with it. Walked when I wanted to walk, spent a few days in a town if I liked it, and I did that a lot. Took a few weeks to rest before I took the French route back into Spain. Finished with a couple I met on the last stretch, ended the whole thing in Santiago de Compostela.”
“Incredible,” he breathed, shaking his head slightly. “I’m feeling a little intimidated right now that you managed both trails in one trip. That’s … what? Seven hundred miles?”
