Shame douses me. After what he said about Poppy, and here I am, behaving like this.
I lurch away from her, my pulse ringing in my ears as Bruce totters off across the parking lot, laughing merrily.
What the hell was I thinking? So she was supportive—how does that justify kissing her? She’s my daughter’s friend. Bailey trusts me to look out for her, and making a move on her is the last thing she needs.I’mthe last thing she needs.
I spot our limo across the parking lot and turn on my heel. “Come on,” I mutter, pretending I don’t want to haul her back into my arms. Pretending I didn’t notice the way she kissed me back.
“Wyatt—” she begins behind me, but I shake my head.
“It’s time to go.”
23
Poppy
Iblink, watching Wyatt’s back as he strides across the parking lot. How did we go from that kiss to him walking away?
It was that asshole Bruce, rubbing his award in Wyatt’s face. I should have said something.
“Wyatt,” I call again, but he doesn’t turn around. I hitch up my dress and rush after him, my heart jammed in my throat. He kissed me. Hekissedme. My head is still spinning.
He reaches for the door handle when I get to his side, but I slide between him and the limo, needing to look at him. Needing him to know.
“He’s an ass,” I say, trying to catch my breath. “Ignore him. You should have won.”
“Jesus, Poppy.” Wyatt steps back, dragging both hands down his face. “Is that really what you think I’m upset about, not winning an award?”
I open and close my mouth, unsure of what to say. It doesn’t really seem like something that would bother him, to be honest, but I’m not sure what else it could be. Everything was great until the moment Bruce’s company won over his.
Wyatt rakes an agitated hand through his hair, glancing away. My gaze follows the ink on his skin, the way it contrasts with the crisp white of his rolled shirt cuffs. He’s never looked hotter. It’s been a fight all evening to keep my hands to myself.
“That’s not it at all,” he mutters. His gaze comes back to mine, dark and intense, pinning me helplessly to the side of the limo. “I’m upset that you look breathtaking, but you’re not here as my date.” There’s an edge of agony to his tone as he continues. “I’m upset that I can’t kiss you—that Ishouldn’thave kissed you. That I can’t take you home.”
“You are taking me home,” I point out. Which is a very stupid thing to say considering everything he just told me. My brain must be short-circuiting.
“Yes,” he concedes. “But when we get home, we’ll be going to separate bedrooms.” A deep groove settles between his brows as he hesitates, then adds, “And that’s not what I want.”
God. There is no sweeter feeling than the guy you’ve wanted, the guy you’ve fantasized about, finally admitting he wants you too. My heart cartwheels, my breath catches, and I gaze up at this huge, tattooed man, my blood pulsing with need.
“That’s not what I want either,” I whisper.
He stares at me hard for a long moment, heat swirling in his gaze, and hope bursts to life inside me. Is this really going to happen?
But Wyatt’s jaw hardens. “Too bad.”
“Why?” I press. “Why can’t we have this?”
He smirks. “I don’t make a habit of sleeping with my daughter’s friends.”
I screw my eyes shut in frustration. He was so close to giving in to me, giving in tohimself, to what we both want. I know he doesn’t want to hurt Bailey—neither do I—but she said it herself. She wants him to meet someone. She wants him to be happy. And I really think I could make him happy.
He deserves that.
“Wyatt—”
“Get in the car,” he grits out, any trace of warmth gone. My brows crash together at the harshness of his tone.
“Why are you talking to me like that?”