Page 14 of Sunshine
Poppy swings an arm toward Izzy’s table. “You’re the boss, Mr. Davenport.”
My blood fizzes and pops at the melodic, almost sexy tease in her voice, and I grit my teeth instead of biting back—or doing what I really want to do, which is biteher, starting with those luscious cherry lips.
As we approach the table, Izzy raises her head. She’s almost finished the book she’s reading. Her breakfast? Not so much.
“Poppy!” she exclaims as she bounds out of her chair.
“Hey, Izzy.”
Poppy greets my girl with a big smile, and Izzy’s upturned face glows in its warmth, her brown eyes brightening and her cheeks turning pink. Izzy’s always been a happy kid, but her joy at seeing Poppy takes me by surprise. I didn’t realize they were already so close.
“What’s in your bag today?” Izzy asks, eyeing the giant tote slung over Poppy’s shoulder.
“In here?” Poppy pretends to think as she stuffs a hand inside the bag and rummages around. “Hmm. Nothing you’d like.” She pulls out a lime-green yoyo and a small wooden puzzle made up of multicolored triangles and then turns them over with a disappointed frown. “I picked these up just yesterday, but you wouldn’t know how to use them, would you?”
“Yes!” Izzy accepts the toys, setting the puzzle aside and looping the yoyo string over her little finger. It spins toward the floor—and stays there.
“Oh,” Izzy mutters as her narrow shoulders slump. “That’s not right.”
Poppy ruffles her hair. “It just takes practice. I can show you after school if you like?”
“Okay. I’ll do the tangram instead.”
What the hell is a tangram?But I don’t ask because Izzy’s already forgotten about the yoyo and is tackling the puzzle instead. I watch the whole interaction with a small amount of wonder. Poppy’s a natural at this.
Reaching over, I take Poppy’s bag and set it aside, then pull out a chair for her to sit. “Are you hungry?”
She side-eyes me as if a man has never held her chair before, then lowers herself into her seat as I help her tuck in under the table. “No, thank you. I ate before I came.”
“Milk and sugar aren’t breakfast,” I guess, and by her flat look, I know I’m right.
I swipe a plate from a nearby serving station, set it in front of Poppy, and top it with half of my omelet and sautéed spinach.
“There were also raisins involved,” Poppy argues, but she takes her first mouthful, and I stare as the fork slips free from her lips, her eyes close with pleasure, and she moans at the taste of the food I prepared. “Mm. This is good. Thanks.”
I rub my palms down the front of my thighs, imagining all the things I could cook just for the pleasure of watching her respond like this over and over. Sweet things. Soft things. Things I could feed her by hand. Things that would melt on her tongue and burst in her mouth. Things that would drive her wild.
“You’re welcome,” I murmur.
Oblivious to my fantasies, Poppy turns to Izzy. “And how are you today, little miss?”
The simple question reminds me where we are and what we’re doing. Worry tugs at me as I listen closely for her answer, ready to dissect it for hints about what’s going on.
But Izzy just shrugs as she works on fitting the puzzle pieces back into the timber frame. “I’m good.”
I swallow a tired sigh.Thanks, Iz. That’s really helpful.
“Glad to hear it,” Poppy replies.
Izzy snaps the last triangle into its place in the puzzle frame and then sets it aside. “I’m starting trumpet lessons today.”
“That’s impressive,” Poppy says.
Izzy raises one shoulder like she wants us to believe it’s no big deal, but a proud smile dances across her mouth. “Yeah. I know.”
Poppy glances at me, seeking permission to keep talking, and I give it with a small nod.
“So, your dad asked me to hang out with you for a while. Help you get ready for school. Pick you up at the end of the day. Go with you to your music lessons and dance lessons and all that fun stuff. Your dad will still be around whenever you need him, but this way, he knows you’re with me while he’s working. What do you think about that?”
