Her hand hovered, before she let it fall to her side without touching him. “But I have faith that one day things will change.”
Beck couldn’t return her smile. He didn’t think he could manage the pretense of the friendly, functional relationship she pretended they had.
“Has your father mentioned the potential build he’s considering up here?”
Beck frowned. “Since when do you and Dad talk?” They’d divorced for the second time just after Beck’s eighteenth birthday. As far as he knew, that had been the last of their contact.
She didn’t reply immediately. He started to get a bad feeling. One that increased when a telltale blush colored her cheeks.
“Oh, Christ.” He should have realized something was going on when she’d insisted he stay at the family property this week. Where all three of them were staying. At least he was in the guesthouse and not trapped under the same roof as them. “Are you two getting back together again?”
He did not want to be roped into another wedding.
Victoria maintained her silence, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and sipping. To the outside eye, she appeared cool and elegant. Simply a woman enjoying a refreshing beverage at her nephew’s engagement party.
Beck knew better. His stomach turned at the thought of yet another parental reunion. Did they think marriage was a game? To be played like baseball where it took three strikes to be out? His skin began to itch under the expensive suit and he looked for an exit strategy. Something to say, somewhere to go so he didn’t have to hear about the latest chapter of Victoria and Harrison Lefebvre’s love story.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” he fibbed, hoping to encourage her to move along.
“You’re pale.” She raised a hand to his cheek.
He brushed away her fingers. “I’m fine.” Or he would be as soon as he downed another scotch...or twelve.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He forced a smile.
She smiled back and smoothed her palm along his face. “Last time I saw you, you were clean shaven.” Beck had been sporting a beard for the last nine months. “How long are you planning to keep it?”
“Until someone convinces me to shave.” It was actually more work keeping the beard neat and trimmed, but Beck liked it. Plus, he didn’t have a shadow to deal with come five o’clock.
She studied him for another moment before nodding. “Try to enjoy yourself tonight. Don’t forget about brunch.” Like he could be so lucky. She’d probably hunt him down in an hour to reconfirm and maintain the pretense of the perfect family.
“I’ll be there.”
He watched her move off, crossing the lawn to join a small group at the edge of the dance floor that included his father. His dad’s face brightened the moment he became aware of her, and that awful scratching under Beck’s suit started up again. He’d bet good money wedding number three would happen before the year was out. Great.
He supposed he should be thankful he had insisted on staying in the smaller guesthouse instead of taking his old bedroom in the large family home. The guesthouse was still big, close to twenty-five-hundred square feet, but was dwarfed by the main house. Beck didn’t care about the size. He cared that he’d have his own space, away from his parents loving it up inside.
Deciding to skip the mingling, Beck slid over to the bar and let the party swirl around him. The sun still beat down on them, but the heat didn’t seem to keep anyone from enjoying themselves. The crowd continued to increase in size and volume. Their frivolity was giving Beck a headache.
He wished it was dark already so he could slip away under cover of night, but he knew the chance of sneaking past his mother was slim. Still, he was seriously considering the ramifications of what his mother might do even if he did leave early—ground him, tell him he wouldn’t be getting any dinner, send him to his room—when something else grabbed his attention.
Or someone else. A low, pleased thrum echoed in his blood.
Poppy Sullivan. Winding her way through the crowd, hair glowing like a beacon and poured into a dress that begged a man to wonder what was underneath. Beck’s lips curved in the first legitimate version of a smile since he’d arrived this morning. Well, well, well.
And she was coming straight for him.
CHAPTER TWO
POPPY SCANNED THE CROWD, taking note of the “happy couple” as she headed toward the bar. She wasn’t particularly thirsty but the bar offered the best vantage point to keep Jamie in view. She just needed to wait until the horde around him thinned, then she’d capture his attention and drag him away for a private moment.
Having this conversation at a wedding event wouldn’t be her first choice, but Poppy didn’t see another alternative. Time was tight. Though, if Emmy and Jamie remained attached at the hip, the lip and every other body part, it wouldn’t matter if Poppy had a century at her disposal. Even now Emmy put her hand on the back of Jamie’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. The group around them clucked appreciatively. Poppy remained unmoved.
She had no doubt Jamie thought this was true love. The man had the instincts of a puppy. Everyone and everything were wonderful and a new adventure to be experienced. And Poppy understood dating exclusively, even moving in together after only knowing each other a short time—been there, done that—but getting married was a completely different animal. If things ended badly, there would be settlements and splitting of assets, and Jamie was a wealthy man.
Poppy didn’t assume Emmy was a gold digger, but Emmy wouldn’t be the first one to get a glimpse at Jamie’s handsome face and fat bank account and decide theirs was a love not to be denied. Seeing as he seemed incapable of taking care of himself, Poppy would do it for him. Friends kept an eye out for each other, and she and Jamie had been friends since kindergarten.
She’d just ordered a glass of wine when she noticed the tall, dark man watching her from across the patio. His eyes glittered with hunger and naked appreciation, and her breath caught. She didn’t recognize him. Poppy was friendly with almost everyone in town, but judging from the cut of his suit, he wasn’t from the area. Most residents of Naramata didn’t have occasions to wear designer clothes worth thousands of dollars.
She quashed the desire rising in her belly and turned away from the stranger. His black hair was a little too long anyway, the ends curling over his collar, and he had a beard. Though facial hair on men didn’t generally appeal to her, she thought it suited him. He looked like a Wall Street banker gone rogue—one who had been in a brawl or two, judging from the bend in his nose.
Even though Poppy wasn’t here to flirt, she risked another peek but wished she hadn’t when she discovered his eyes still on her. His lips twisted in a half smile, and her face grew hot. She glanced in the opposite direction, willing her cheeks to cool and reminding herself to focus on Jamie and her reason for being here.
Although who knew if she would ever get a chance to speak to him. The crowd around Jamie showed no signs of leaving and neither did Emmy. Poppy sighed. She wanted to do this as soon as possible, but if no one was
