“I’m fine,” Daisy said, shaking her head as if she knew Poppy was looking for an excuse to stay home.
A knock rattled the door, startling Poppy. She hesitated, tugging at her sweater again.
“Go answer the door,” Daisy told her with an encouraging smile.
Poppy nodded, then strode down that hallway in a pair of boots she’d only worn once, the heels clacking on the hardwood with an assertiveness she didn’t feel. Taking a calming breath, she opened the door.
Killian stood on the other side, looking like he had just walked off the set of a modeling shoot. He just wore jeans and the white shirt from yesterday, but he still managed to look stunning. His hair was still a little damp from his shower, flipping at the ends in an attractively tousled way. And he’d shaved, leaving only a patch of hair under his lower lip. The look accentuated his sculpted lips and added a little edginess to his beauty. He looked sexy and naughty and …
She was staring.
Her eyes moved up to meet his, only to discover he was doing his own inventory of her. His golden gaze roamed over her until she had to brace her muscles to stop the shiver his heated perusal created.
“You look fantastic.” His voice was low, velvety and so sexy.
She pulled in another breath, losing herself to a shiver. “You too.”
He smiled then, and her limbs turned to jelly.
It was the lack of oxygen from her tight clothing, she told herself. But then she managed to get enough to her brain to invite him in.
Killian told himself to stop staring, but as he followed Poppy down the hall, his eyes were locked on her. Or more accurately, at this moment, her rear end.
The jeans she wore were dyed dark blue and fit her to a tee, the material emphasizing her legs and the curve of her perfect little butt.
When they reached the living room, he managed to tear his stare away, but he wasn’t certain it was before Daisy noticed the direction of his look.
She gave him a glance he couldn’t quite read, but then smiled. “You two look ready for a fun night.”
Killian nodded, not that he was sure what this night would be like. As he glanced back over to Poppy, he knew with her looking like that, he wasn’t going to have any trouble finding her a boyfriend.
“Daisy, really, if you are nervous being alone, I can stay home.”
Killian could hear an almost pleading quality in Poppy’s voice, but he knew she was begging the wrong person. Daisy was a girl with a mission.
“I’m almost sixteen, Poppy. I will be fine. And if I need anything I can go to Madison’s or Emma’s or any of the neighbors’. Plus, I could just call you. You’ll only be a couple blocks away.”
Poppy nodded, but she was noticeably disappointed. “I know.” Then she seemed to brace herself as if she was getting ready to go get a root canal rather than going out to a ladies’ night.
“Let me just get my coat.” She disappeared from the room.
As soon as she was gone, Daisy set her schoolbook aside and scooted across the couch to get closer to him.
“I think your plan is a good one,” she whispered.
Killian frowned and shook his head, not sure what plan she was referring to.
“That you are taking your time finding her a guy,” Daisy said. “She hasn’t been with anyone since her last boyfriend. She really thought he was the one. But he wasn’t all that.”
Rather than making him feel good, Daisy’s comment bothered Killian. Poppy was still pining for her ex. The guy didn’t deserve that kind of mourning as far as Killian was concerned.
Apparently, Daisy felt the same. “Adam was a musician, and he thought he was so cool, but he was really just a pretentious jerk. He really, really hurt her.”
Poppy hadn’t said that when she’d spoken of him, but he’d gotten that impression anyway.
“This time, I want her to have someone really good for her. Someone who will treat her the way she deserves. Someone perfect.”
Killian nodded, although he didn’t know anything about perfect. Perfection wasn’t what got people into his world. Imperfection, shortcomings and failings were what he understood.
But if Mr. Perfect was out there, then Poppy deserved him.
As if on cue, Poppy walked back into the room. She’d added a tailored gray peacoat and a red-gray-and-black plaid scarf to her outfit.
The combination of colors made her skin look as flawless and pale as a china doll’s. Her eyes looked dark and soulful. Her brown hair was down, glossy and straight. She looked … ethereal … he pulled in a slow breath. Maybe perfection did exist, he realized.
“Ready?” she said.
He straightened. “Yes.”
Daisy rose from the sofa to follow them to the door.
After they stepped out into the hallway, Poppy turned back, mouth open, but Daisy cut her off, “I’m fine. Go have fun. And don’t worry.”
Poppy hesitated, then nodded, but she couldn’t contain one last maternal worry.
“Make sure you lock the door.”
Daisy rolled her eyes but smiled. “I will.”
Killian didn’t move once the door closed, knowing Poppy wouldn’t leave until she heard the dead bolt click into place.
It did, and he placed a hand on her arm. She started at the touch, but didn’t pull away.
“Ready to do this?” he asked
She nodded, but he had no doubt she wanted to say, “no.” Instead, she said nothing as they made their way out of the building.
Once on the sidewalk, he looked up and down the street. “Which way are we headed?”
“This way.” She pointed to the right, and they fell into step, although he noticed he had to modify his stride more than usual. For the boots, he realized, as he watched her picking her way around the cracks in the pavement. They looked great on her, but clearly they weren’t comfortable.
“So what exactly happens at a ‘ladies’ night?’” he asked, deciding maybe taking her mind off her feet might help.
She glanced at him, surprise clear in her eyes. “You’ve never been to a ladies’ night at a bar?”
He shrugged. “Maybe, but I wasn’t aware of it if I was.”
“Well—” She glanced at him again, but her thought was cut short as her heel slipped in a crack and her ankle twisted. Instantly, Killian caught her, catching most of her weight before it could land on the turned ankle.
She clung to his arm, accepting his help. That was until she was able to balance herself. Then she dropped her hands from him.
“Sorry,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “This is why I wear sneakers. I can’t even manage three-inch heels.”
“I couldn’t either,” he assured her. Then he offered his elbow. She stared at his proffered arm as if it were a snake ready to strike. But after a moment, she looped her arm through his.
At least his touch was better than a twisted or broken ankle. The lesser of two evils, as they say.
“So,” he said once they started walking again, her body much closer than before. He could feel her heat and smell something deliciously spicy like cinnamon on her skin, “You were going to tell me what happens at a ladies’ night.”
She didn’t answer for a moment.
“Well, I haven’t been to a bar for years,” she said. “But usually they have half-price drinks for the ladies. No cover charge for them if there’s a band. Maybe some discounts on food.”
“And that’s enough to draw in women?”
Poppy actually found herself laughing at his dry query. Which surprised her, because she was altogether too aware of him being so close. Her shoulder brushed his arm as they walked. Their arms entwined. Her fingers rested on his forearm.
“It isn’t the discounts that lures them in,” she said. “It’s the hope of meeting someone like you.”
“Me?”
