Endless Obsession

I can’t picture him being the type to wear boots. Or plaid shirts for that matter. It almost makes me laugh as I try to force the image out of my head.

“No, I don’t,” he says, clearly amused.

“But you just said it was mandatory,” I remind him.

Leaning a hip against the counter, I start flipping through my mail. There are a few bills and several advertisements.

“Not for me.”

“Are you, like, special or something?”

“No. I just don’t wear cowboy boots.”

I hear a beep in my ear, indicting an incoming call, and I pull it away to look at the screen. My stomach flips when Sterling’s name appears. Then a smile crosses my face.

“Poppy?” I distantly hear Asher call.

Damn it. I don’t know what to do. I want to let Asher go so I can talk to Sterling, but I also want to keep Asher on the phone. We’re actually having a comfortable conversation, something that doesn’t happen often for me in regards to him. I’m confused. How can I be attracted to two men at once? How can I want both of their attention? Asher’s never shown i

nterest in me, but he does seem to be opening up more, and I’m enjoying it.

I’m such a hussy. Especially after the night Sterling and I shared. Guilt plagues me.

“Hey, are you okay?”

I bring the phone back to my ear. I’ll call Sterling back.

“Yeah, sorry. Someone was beeping in.”

“Do you need to go?” he asks. There’s something in his voice, but I’m not sure what it is. It almost sounds like suspicion.

“No. I can call them back.”

He’s quiet for a minute, then says, “Cowboy boots. Get a pair this week. And while you’re at it, grab one of those plaid shirts. We’ve got to make sure you blend in and not come off as touristy.”

I laugh. “Yes, boss.”

I pick up the junk mail that’s destined for the trash and toss it, leaving the newspaper on the counter. I’m old fashioned and still enjoy looking through the local paper versus watching it on the television or reading about it online. I get that from my dad. Every morning he would sit at the table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper spread out before him.

“I’ll let you go. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Poppy. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Thanks, Asher. I’ll see you Monday.”

We disconnect and for some asinine reason, I’m disappointed at the loss of connection. I really enjoyed talking with him. The conversation was light, and I felt at ease with him. I wouldn’t say he’s uptight, but he’s generally very quiet and watchful, never letting too much of his personality show. It’s hard to tell the type of mood he’s in at work, but the other night during dinner, and then again tonight, he seemed like a normal person and not the silent businessman he normally portrays.

There is one thing that has my brain working overtime. Why did he call me at home to ask me about cowboy boots when he could have easily asked me at work on Monday? I shake the thought away, having no clue.

I grab the newspaper off the counter and take it, along with my phone to the living room. I toss the newspaper on the couch to read later. Right now, my shower is calling my name, and I need to call Sterling back. Walking down the hallway, I pull Sterling’s name up. Flutters form in my belly at the prospect of hearing his voice. I haven’t talked to him since last night, and I’ve been anxious all day to do so.

“Hey, Beautiful.”

I sigh with a smile at hearing him call me beautiful. I love when he calls me that.

“Hi,” I say breathlessly.

“I tried calling you a few minutes ago,” he says.

My smile slips away, and I pause in my bedroom doorway for a split second before continuing on to my closet. I try to act casual when I reply. “Oh, I was on the phone with my boss,” I tell him, feeling strange and awkward.