One Day Fiance

“And you didn’t have a backup?” I ask, lifting my eyebrow. “Nothing on the cloud?”

“After the cloud hacks the past few years?” She scoffs but then softens. “Dammit, I know. Trust me, I know!”

“Whoa, whoa . . . I got it.” I tap my bottle to hers, acknowledging that I hear her. “I’ll do what I can to keep you among the living,” I joke dryly. “We’ll get it back.”

She makes a face, twisting her lips and squinting her eyes at me brattily. “Promise?” I dip my chin to seal the deal, but that’s not enough for her. She holds out a fist, her pinky sticking up. “Pinky promise or your dick is mine. And not in the fun way,” she threatens, “but in the snip, snip, chop, chop way.”

I don’t laugh, not at losing my dick, but it’s a close call. But I do want to think about her wanting my dick in another way, and a chuckle tries to escape. I cough to cover it, wrapping my pinky around hers and shaking in agreement.

“That’s my laptop situation. Now, how about you tell me about your mother situation since I’m going to meet her at dinner tomorrow?”

I choke on the drink I just took, spitting half of it out as the other bit goes down the wrong pipe. Wiping at my mouth, I growl, “You’re not going to dinner tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Poppy declares evenly, “I am. Your mother is expecting me. Well . . . she’s expecting Scarlett, your fiancée. Why’d you lie about that?”

This is dangerous. I mean, it’s already dangerous to even let her know my name and not be on the road to the nearest Holiday Inn. I should just feed her a line of bullshit. Hell, I lie so often that sometimes the lies seem more real than the truth.

But somehow, there’s something about Poppy Woodstock that has me doing the totally wrong thing . . . and telling her the truth. “My family’s got lots of shit going on. And Mom is . . . a lot. She gets all up in my business, which I just can’t have. Honestly, she’s like you.”

“Cute and perky?” she suggests with a faux-innocent blink of her bare, pale lashes.

“You’re not cute,” I growl. “Either way, my sister’s getting married, and it’ll be this whole dog and pony show with the aunts and uncles and cousins. I’m not going.”

“To the wedding? Your sister’s wedding?” she asks, horrified.

“No wedding, and no dinner either.” I answer darkly. “Every family’s got a black sheep, right? Well, that’s me. In fact, I’m like a radioactive black sheep.”

“Doesn’t matter, we’re going.” Stubborn doesn’t begin to describe her, and that’s coming from someone who’s been described as stubborn as a mule more than once. “She wants you there!”

She doesn’t get it. I’m not going for their benefit, not mine. “Did you not hear me? I’m radioactive. My mom doesn’t know who I am, what I do. She thinks I’m a good guy, wants to show me off to her sister, my Aunt Audrey. And those two . . . they’ve had a pissing match for years. Their kids are just soldiers in their war, and I have zero interest in competing with my cousin, Ian.”

Poppy smiles, her teeth flashing white before she tries to cover it with her beer bottle.

“What?”

She shakes her head, taking a big gulp. But under my hot gaze, she melts and her laugh bubbles out. “I’m trying to imagine you” —she gestures from my head to toes— “competing with someone named Ian.” The insult hits me sharply, but then she says sadly, “Poor kid. With a name like Ian, he never had a chance.”

Wait, she thinks I’m better than Ian? She doesn’t know him, and all she knows of me is that I’m a lying, stealing thief, but somehow, that brings me ahead as the winner in this imaginary contest?

I grin cockily and agree. “He really didn’t.”

Somehow, it forges a little bond between us, and Poppy relaxes, taking another sip of beer. “So tell me about you, and tell me about Scarlett since I’ll be playing her tomorrow.”

Oh, God, Scarlett. That’s a whole other bundle of shit to deal with, and I’m glad when the doorbell rings before I can reply. Still, it makes me jump a little, and I chastise myself that I didn’t hear the car pull up outside. Don’t get distracted, Connor. It might not always be a pizza.

I take the pizza from the delivery guy and set it on the counter. Sliding a slice onto a plate, I hand it to Poppy and then plate one for myself. She sits at the table, and I realize that she moved the boxes while I was getting the pizza.

She’s helpful and willing to pitch in. I store that information away too.