Then she tentatively pierced a bit of the scrambled egg on the tines of her fork and nibbled it.
The texture was not pleasant, but she forced herself to chew and swallow. Again. And again. She took a bite of toast, the bread gummy in her mouth, but again she made herself eat it.
By the time she’d finished half the plate, she was surprised to discover her stomach no longer churned.
She let out a slow breath, this time due to a full stomach rather than nausea.
“Are you okay?” Killian asked, uncurling his large frame from the rocker, his plate empty.
She nodded. “Yes. That made me feel much better. Thank you.”
“Least I could do.” He smiled, and something flashed in his eyes that she didn’t quite understand. But it looked a lot like regret.
Some of her pleasure at feeling better vanished.
“Done?” he asked.
She nodded, holding her plate out to him. He took it, his eyes now not meeting hers.
More concern swelled up in her chest. Why did she get the feeling that Killian was going to tell her something? Something she might not want to hear.
He carried the dishes into the kitchen, but he was soon back. This time, he didn’t take a seat in the rocking chair, but perched on the arm of the sofa. He looked down at his linked hands, and Poppy could tell he was working up to something. Something big.
“Poppy,” he said, his voice a low, velvety rumble. He had the richest, deepest voice. A voice she could listen to for hours. But right now, she didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. She just knew she wasn’t going to like it. Not at all.
“I wanted to talk to you about last night. I realize I was way too forward.”
CHAPTER 24
H
She’d known this was coming. But Poppy remained quiet and tried to keep her face impassive.
He was going to tell her that the elevator kiss had been a silly moment that should never have happened. They’d just gotten caught up in the craziness of the night.
She already knew that, but she didn’t want yet another apology. An apology that was essentially a polite way of saying, “I’m not interested in you. I never could be. Don’t make anything out of it.”
So she wouldn’t. She’d just remain calm, indifferent. She would shrug off his words, and he would never know that the apology had any effect on her. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
Remaining stoic was her best defense. It had been her only defense all these years.
He looked up from his hands to meet her gaze. “I owe you an apology.”
Her face felt stiff, as if there was a mask over it. She just waited, wondering what wording he would use in his attempt to make this apology seem kind and thoughtful. Rejection for the better good. But for the better good of whom?
“I don’t want you to feel forced to go see your ex this weekend.”
Wait? What? Wasn’t he going to talk about how he shouldn’t have kissed her? That it had been a mistake? A huge mistake?
“And though I’d love to see the guy’s face when he sees you and realizes you are doing great and”—he made a humorously derisive face—“that you are engaged to a fantastic guy, I shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t my place.”
Poppy stared at him. There had to be more to this, right? Was he regretting offering himself up as her faux fiancé? That had to be it.
After a moment, when he clearly felt ill at ease with her silence, he added, “I put you in an awkward position where it will be uncomfortable if you go, and uncomfortable if you don’t. I’m sorry.”
“So you don’t want to go?” she asked, still sure the fiancé suggestion had to be the real problem.
“Oh,” he answered instantly, “I want to go. I think this Adam guy needs to see what he lost. But I shouldn’t have made that decision for you.”
Truthfully, she hadn’t given that portion of the evening a single thought. Her mind had been stuck on other parts of the night.
“So you aren’t going to apologize for kissing me?”
Confusion marred his features now. “I did apologize about the kiss at the bar, but you told me not to do it again.”
Ah. That’s why he wasn’t saying anything about the kiss in the elevator. He figured the same rule applied to that one too.
“So you do regret the kiss in the elevator?”
He frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t regret either kiss.”
He didn’t? Now she was thoroughly bewildered, and apparently that was evident on her face, because Killian added, “I didn’t apologize for the kiss in the bar because I regretted it, just for how I did it. Without asking you, or even giving you a clue to what my plan was.”
“Oh.” That was all her muddled mind could manage.
“And the only thing I regret in the elevator is the fact you were so tipsy. Because I knew you might be unhappy about it later.”
“Oh,” she said. Well, this wasn’t at all what she’d expected.
Killian studied Poppy’s dazed expression, not sure what she was thinking.
During the night, he’d come to a conclusion about Poppy Reed. More than she needed a boyfriend, she needed to remember who she was, the things she loved and that she was a very desirable woman.
At the risk of sounding like some new-age relationship guru, if Poppy got back to who she was, then she’d be ready to meet this true love Daisy wanted for her.
He’d also decided forcing Poppy to deal with Adam before she was ready wasn’t the right way to do that. Maybe she just needed to get comfortable with men and be herself. Maybe the past needed to stay in the past for now.
“I’m starting to think we both have things we need to work through. You need to—”
Poppy nodded, finishing his sentence for him. “I need to deal with Adam, and you need to come to terms with Agnetha.”
Agnetha?
But he nodded, “Exactly.” Who or what was an Agnetha?
“I’m sorry,” she said, giving him a pained look. “Madison told me about your fiancée.”
Of course. Another brilliant story from the minds of teens. So now he had an ex-fiancée. At least he assumed she was an ex. It really would be nice of the girls to share these little facts of his pretend history
“I hope it’s okay that I know. Madison told me because I was confused by your dislike of blondes.”
He disliked blondes? Then he remembered the food court and his rejection of the tall blonde.
“Oh, sure, it’s okay,” he said.
So this was the story the girls had come up with to fix that snafu. He didn’t like blondes because of a blond fiancée. He supposed that was as good an excuse as any.
Poppy reached forward and touched his hand. “It must have been very hard.”
He nodded, looking down at her hand on his. “Yes, it was.”
So, girls, what awful thing happened? Did she die? Did they realize they weren’t suited? Maybe she left him for another man?
“And to leave you for the minister.”
Or for a man of the cloth. Of course. Couldn’t these girls ever come up with a normal story?
“Yes, that was very hard.” He nodded, looking down, feigning pain. “And makes you question your faith.”
