Page 19 of Half Baked

Maybe he’s not here. Although why anyone would leave the driveway gate open when they aren’t home is beyond me. This place is too marvelous for trespassers to stay away.

“Hayden!” I try again, louder this time.

I should have listened to Stevie and called him ahead of time. Now I’m just stalking around his estate.

Peering down the staircase, there is a landing where it bends at a ninety degree angle and continues. I skip down to the landing and freeze.

From here, I can see a beautiful sandy beach carved out from the cliffs. Like a secret oasis, it stretches across the width of the property in a crescent shape. And rising from the water like Poseidon himself, is Hayden. His chiseled, tan chest glistens from the water droplets that cling to him, and he shakes his head, face tilted upward so his hair falls back perfectly. His black swim trunks cling to his thighs, hiked up to reveal broad, rippling quads. I never thought I was a thigh girl, yet I cannot look away.

A few paces into the sand, he drops a surfboard and lifts his gaze towards his estate. Towards me.

Heat blazes across my cheeks, and in a panic, I turn and rush back up the stairs. I can’t ask him for this favor, not after being caught watching him from his own backyard.

Hayden

I blink rapidly, scrubbing a hand over my face and clearing the salty water from my vision. I’m not imagining it. That’s Poppy, in a devastating little dress that’s hugging her in all the best ways. And she’s retreating at an impressive pace.

Before I realize what I’m doing, my legs are carrying me quickly through the sand and up the stairs. I take them two at a time, cursing my muscles for being sore from surfing.

I reach the lawn and stop, scanning the yard for her sleek, strawberry blonde hair. When I don’t immediately locate her, I shout for her instead. “Poppy!” My voice is lost in the breeze coming from the sea.

I can’t imagine she went inside my house, so I cut across the patio to the side path. Turning the corner, I skid to a stop, nearly knocking into the woman I’m looking for as she leans against the side of my house.

She flattens against the siding in surprise, her hands coming up to protect herself from being crushed. They land on my chest as a startled squeak escapes her. Then she realizes, with wide eyes, that she’s groping my bare pecs. Frantically, she drops her hands once again.

I catch pink staining her cheeks before she ducks her head to hide her face. Her long, sleek hair falls forward over her shoulder, and it hides her from me further.

She’s out of breath, probably the reason she stopped around the corner here. And I watch as the blue flowers on her dress dance from the motion of her chest heaving for air.

A million questions race through my mind, but I settle on the most logical, and appropriate, one first. “What brings you by, Poppy Seed?” The corner of my lip tips up as I lean in and plant a hand against the house beside her head.

“You’re dripping on my dress,” she mutters.

I take a step back and drag a hand through my hair. “Better?”

“I’d prefer if you were like, five more steps back, at least. But yes.”

“You’re being a little rude for someone that came seeking me out.” I fold my arms across my chest and raise an eyebrow. “So again, what brings you by?”

“Temporary insanity. Forget it,” she replies, turning to continue up the walk.

“Wait.” I reach out and catch her wrist in my hand. “Come inside.”

Her eyes jump from my grasp on her, to my face, and back to my hand on her wrist. I can tell that her brain is working frantically inside that cute little head of hers. I’ll decide for her.

“Come on,” I say, giving a gentle tug and pulling her around to the back doors of the house. She doesn’t fight me, letting me lead her into the kitchen. I pull out one of the rattan stools at the island and motion for her to sit. Again, she obliges without protest.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell her, studying her face curiously. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she replies with a roll of her eyes. That’s at least a familiar behavior for my girl.

I nod, reassured that she won’t flee, and rush through the house to my room. I grab the first articles of clothing I see,changing into sweatpants and throwing a T-shirt on at record speed.

I can’t imagine what Poppy would be doing here. Alone, no less. Is she upset about me throwing her over my shoulder during the fire the other day? No. If that was the reason, she’d be tearing into me by now.

Taking the back staircase, I pop back out on the other side of the kitchen from where she’s expecting me. “Where did you just come from?” she breathes when I appear. “This house is insane.”

“Can I get you anything?” I ask, ignoring her mumblings.

---