Page 36 of Touch My Shelves

Pain quickly flashes in her eyes before her posture stiffens and I know I messed up again.

“Right,” she says with that adorable chin tipped. “Well, if that’s all, I need to get to work.”

Since then, Poppy has been nothing but professional the few times she’s been forced to be in my presence. In the mornings, she’s waiting for Freeya in the school room and in the afternoons, she declines my invitation to join us for dinner. I don’t think she’s said more than five words to me all week.

Through Freeya, I learn that Poppy accepted the offer from the town and is going ahead with reopening her bookstore. I knew that morning, standing in the apartment above the store space, that Poppy’s future and mine weren’t ever going to follow the same path. Once my book is done, I’ll go back to California and we’ll resume our lives there. Poppy will open her bookstore and make a life for herself here on the island.

I know in my head that I did the smart thing. The right thing for my daughter… but I miss talking to Poppy. Our meals don’t have half as much interesting conversation as when Poppy was with us. I miss hearing their laughter when they play in the pool. Now they spend most of the day at the beach or in the carriage house, where Poppy set up a work area. Being across the hall from me must have been too close for her. I don’t blame her. What I said, while true, could have been said with more understanding and grace.

I regret how I handled the entire situation. I wanted her so badly I didn’t put my daughter’s needs above my own. That day when we were checking out the new store, I stood in the apartment and freaked out when I realized I would miss Poppy when she moved out. That sent me down a rabbit hole to discover budding feelings for her. Freeya has them too, and that’s when I knew how hard leaving Poppy will be on both of us. I just didn’t communicate that very well.

There’s a timid knock at the door, “Yes?”

The door creaks open, but nobody is there. And then there is. Freeya walks in the door in a black, red, and silver costume. She looks like a pirate queen.

“What is this?” I ask, my brow creased.

Freeya’s voice transforms into a theatrical British accent. “Well, gov'ner, this is my princess pirate Buccaneer Days outfit.” Then her excitement gets the best of her. She breaks character, runs around my desk, and throws herself into my arms. I love seeing Freeya this animated and happy.

“Is this what you’re going to wear?” I ask, pressing my lips to the top of her head. I notice that her hair has been styled into one long, blonde braid going halfway down her back—and one of the strands is purple. I eye it suspiciously, determining the instant hair growth is extensions. She even has a plastic sword tucked beneath a black leather belt with a huge silver buckle. Looking closer, I notice the quality of the outfit. It isn’t the normal cheap fabric, factory-made costume that we usually order. “Where did you get this?”

My stomach drops when a movement at the door catches my eye. I look up and find Poppy leaning against the doorjamb with her arms crossed and her breasts bulging out of a white, laced-up corset. She looks awkward and unsure of herself. Where Freeya’s costume is ten-year-old princess acceptable, Poppy’s is serving wench sexy.

She’s fucking hot.

“Hi, Poppy,” I wheeze, trying to sound normal and not like a sex-crazed lunatic. I want her badly. It’s been so long since I’ve held her in my arms.

Freeya shakes me out of the place I’d gone by saying, “Poppy’s friend Naudi made them for us.”

“Who is Poppy’s naughty friend?” I ask, and both females laugh.

“No, Daddy. Poppy’s friend is NAUDI. Not naughty. Naudi with a ‘d’ is her name,” she explains.

Poppy adds, “Naudi is my best friend. She’s a designer and works for a fashion house. I asked her to make us dresses for the fall celebration.”

Freeya runs to stand beside Poppy. “And they came today in the mail. Poppy got a lot of other new clothes too. Aren’t they pretty, Daddy?”

I grin as Freeya strikes poses, showing off her new dress. Poppy continues to look uncomfortable.

“They sure are.”

“Isn’t Poppy beautiful?”

My wandering gaze moves from the black, thigh-high boots, the red skirt with black lace slip peeking through sheer areas around the hem, splits over both legs, and up to the black leather belt cinching her waist, which must be scratchy, and then that corset. The fabric of the skirt hugs her hips and I want to ask her to turn around because I bet her ass is showcased in all its stellar magnificence. I slide my rolling chair beneath my desk to hide how much I like her outfit.

A protective urge lights my insides with jealousy. I don’t want anyone but me to see her dressed like this. The thought of other men ogling her breasts and long, shapely legs makes me want to beat my chest and demand that she change. I know what those mounding breasts taste like. I know how wet Poppy gets when I suck them into my mouth.

This is torture.

Then I notice Poppy carrying a package. “We got you one too, Daddy. Just wait until you see it. You are going to be such a dashing pirate. Will you try it on?”

Standing up at the moment would be a disaster. “How about I try it on after dinner? I’m sure Chef Claude won’t appreciate if we’re late.”

Poppy steps back and says, “I’ll just go and let you two enjoy your dinner. There’s some reading I need to do.”

I really hate that she’s trying to get out of joining us. “No, wait, Poppy. Won’t you join us? Please?”

Freeya jumps up and down and claps. “Yes, please, Poppy! Then we can both see Daddy in his costume. And you never join us anymore. It’s funner when you’re there.”

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