Page 85 of No First Kisses

For the first time, I really look at the trooper, and I can feel the anxiety dripping off him. His face is tight, his mouth in a grimace that seems almost painful, but his eyes are the worst. They tell an entire story, just with one glance.

He doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to be doing this.

“What’s really going on?”

Both men look at me. Chief with curiosity, but the trooper has fear in his eyes.

“N-nothing,” he stammers slightly, and I know there’s something more.

“Tell me before Ben gets here and stops you from talking to me. Whatever it is, I’ll find a way to help you. But not if you’re trying to throw me and this department under the bus to get ahead.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “It’s nothing like that. I was approached by the Office of Professional Standards and informed that if I did not pursue the case against you, I would be made an example of.”

One glance at the chief, and he nods. “I’ll take care of it. Unless you’re arresting her, Poppy you’re free to go home. I expect there won’t be any charges after I make this call. And when it’s all said and done, you might even have an apology from the Maine State Police for this.”

“Seriously?” I question him. “All this, making me come in, and I can just go home?”

They nod at me, and I leave the chief to clean up whatever mess I accidentally left by killing Ortega.

When I open the office door, I almost fall over.

Logan’s holding our baby in his arms, and he’s using a foot to keep some of the guys away from Killian.

“No.” He’s snapping at the other people around. “If Poppy finds out I let you touch him with your dirty hands, she’ll kill me. Go wash your hands, you heathen.”

“Yeah,” I add in with a laugh. “But after that, we’re going home because I’m exhausted and I really want to sleep.”

Logan’s eyes meet mine. “All good?”

“Chief’s handling it from here.”

On the way home, Logan stops to pick up pizza, and if I wasn’t already going to marry him, I might propose on the spot.

“This is so much better than tacos.” I stuff at least three pieces into my stomach before I give up and get ready for a food coma. “But not as good as sex.”

EPILOGUE

LOGAN

“Look at these leggings.” Poppy grunts while she hikes them up her legs, smoothing them on like butter on bread. “I can’t believe I fit in them.”

I’m too busy staring at her ass jiggling while she jumps and shimmies into them to care why she fits in them at all.

“We’re getting married in ten minutes,” I say while watching the leggings cover her ass. “Why are you putting leggings on?”

“Because,” Poppy snaps as she gets them up all the way. “I don’t want to fall down and accidentally flash my underwear at all the people in our lives. What if we’re dancing and you drop me? What if my undies tear? No one needs to see my vagina.”

“P.” I put my hands on either side of her face, stopping her from whatever craziness she is cooking up in her head. “I have never dropped you. I will never drop you. I promise. I got you.”

She kisses me. “I know. Now get out, so I can get dressed. Meet you at the end of the aisle. Bring our boy. And don’t forget the rings.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ten minutes later, I watch her walk out the back door of her father’s house, holding on to his arm with a smile on her face, and I know my life has never been so complete.

Nothing I’ve gone through in all my years has prepared me for the absolute mix of feelings all racing through my chest at the same time. Fear that she’s going to turn around and run in the other direction. Terror, that I might not be good enough. Love for her. Excitement at the fact that she’s agreed to walk down the aisle and marry me. Happiness. Pure, unfiltered happiness at the life we get to build together, finally.

The white dress on her hips clings to every curve, and you can’t even tell she’s wearing leggings underneath it. It’s filmy but smooth, moving with her in a way that captures the light and makes it look like she’s walking on air.

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