Page 70 of Stay Wild Darlin’

“Where’s mine?”

Her head jerked up, startled.

“Kidding,” I said quickly, still grinning as I handed her a bagel. “Relax.”

She took it carefully. “Y-you didn’t have to make me this.”

“I was making one anyway.” I shrugged, trying to play it cool.

She turned toward the counter, bending to grab a napkin from the drawer. When she bent—fuck.

The loose tank top shifted.

No bra.

The soft swell of her breast was visible through the gap at the armhole, the curve of her skin catching the morning light. I saw the pink of her nipple and gripped the edge of the counter to keep from moving.

Fuck.

She had no idea how close I was to saying screw breakfast and pulling her back into me like I had the night before. Like I’d dreamed about doing again.

I looked away because I had to. Because if I didn’t, I was going to kiss her again. Touch her. Press her against the cabinets and find out if she was still warm from sleep or if that was me burning up from the inside.

“I’m leaving in a few to practice at Beau’s before I head out.” I cleared my throat and pointed to the folded paper on the counter. “We’ll be in Dallas this weekend, so I got you a room at the host hotel and tickets to the event. I thought maybe Cora could stay with you while I’m busy, if that’s okay.”

“Oh yeah. She’d love that.” She took a bite of her bagel, then leaned over and gave Cora a soft rub on the cheek. “Lots of bull boops today,” she said sweetly, and Cora cooed in response, kicking her feet like she understood every word.

I smiled at the scene in front of me.

There was a time I wanted Brooke to come back. To see this. To be part of it. But standing here, watching Poppy laugh with my daughter in mismatched socks and a loose tank, something in my chest eased.

It wasn’t that Brooke didn’t matter. It was that I didn’t need her to fill the space anymore.

“It’s all set up for you,” I added.

“We won’t bother you. I know you like to bring girls back or whatever, so . . .” Poppy took her plate and moved to the other side of the counter, her gaze dropping to it. “Thank you.”

I came around after her, and she didn’t look up.

Not until I reached her, hooked my finger beneath her chin, and gently tipped her face up to mine, like I had the night before.

The bagel slipped from her hand.

“No, Poppy. There is no one else. If last night didn’t confirm that . . . nothing will.”

She swallowed hard, lips parted. “You’re my boss.”

My voice dropped. “Tell me to stop then.”

“I-I can’t,” she whispered.

She turned away, putting distance between our bodies, despite her confession. Or maybe because of it.

I let my hand drop.

“Thank you . . . for the tickets. I’m excited to see you.”

I nodded, swallowing the disappointment and trying to cover it with something that sounded like normalcy.