Good. I can work with that.
I hold up my finger and look all the way up to meet his gaze. A surge of triumph courses through my veins when the perfect play on words comes to me. “Big Mack! Except if you’re going to call me Boo, then I’m going to call you Big.”
“Big?”
“Yeah. It suits you.”
We stare at each other for a beat, and I’m pleased to say I’m holding my ground. No cowering here. Maybe Gran was on to something with the cute-underwear trick. I did spend some extra time picking out a perfect pair this morning.
Mack blinks first. “Let me give you my number. Call if you need anything.”
I’m slightly embarrassed to admit how relieved I am at his offer. I almost drop my tablet in my attempt to grab my phone from my pocket, but I manage to save it at the last minute. We exchange information, and he turns to leave.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” I fight off a cringe at how nosy my question sounds, but I can’t help it. This is a brand-new town with brand-new people. Like Heather said, it’s sink or swim time, and I’m sort of hoping Mack will help to keep me afloat.
“Work.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m an electrician.”
“Ah.” I nod. “You’re working on those multi-unit complexes the next town over.”
Mack quirks his brow. “How’d you guess?”
“The logo on your hat from this morning. I remember seeing signs on our way into town that matched it. I’m guessing the M-E stands for Mack Electric?”
He eyes me again, and this time, I’m sure there’s a glint of something in the dark depths of his irises. I’d like to think I’ve impressed him. That, or I’ve drawn his attention back to our first meeting, where he wouldn’t have been able to learn anything about me from my attire.
Because I was clothes-less.
I fight the urge to cower.
“That’s me,” he says after a minute, and he’s halfway out the door. “See you around, Boo.”
“It’s not too late, you know,” I call after him. He pauses and glances over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed. “You could always change your branding to ‘Big Mack Electric’. Has a nice ring to it, if I do say so myself.”
One side of Mack’s mouth hitches up a fraction of an inch before he turns and stalks off.
It’s not much, but I’m going to count that as a massive win for today.
4
Possessive Pronouns
Mack
From: [email protected]
Subject: Email 1
Dear Holland,
Here goes nothing! Thanks for agreeing to this email-writing scheme. I’m sure after a busy day it’s the last thing you want to do, but like I said, your effort means a lot to me. I’m writing this while I’m waiting to head to your parents’ house for Sunday dinner. I’m nervous! Overall, I’ve had a good first few days in Cashmere Cove. From what I’ve seen of it, I love your hometown.
I know I’ve told you some about my background, so I won’t get into it all again, but suffice it to say, the only place I’ve ever felt like I could call my own was the tiny little bedroom in the upstairs corner of my gram’s house. The paint was the color of the sky, and there were crisp white sheets on the three twin-sized beds that my sisters and I got to sleep in. Gram didn’t have much, but she loved us fiercely. The years we got to stay with her were the safest, most at-home I’ve felt in my entire life. I miss her every day. But I already feel like I could feel at home here in Cashmere Cove. What is it about this place that ropes you in? Is it the way the sun reflects off the water? The colorful buildings on the downtown strip? The lush green trees that surround all the parks? I don’t know. Something about this town makes me want to stay awhile.
I don’t say that to freak you out or put the cart in front of the horse with our relationship or anything like that. Mostly I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for everything you did to set me up with a job here (which I love so far!) and a place for Rose and me to stay (yes, it needs work, but we’re going to make the most of it!).
I’ve always tried to look for the good in my circumstances, and right now, sitting on the deck, listening to the creek running through the backyard of this little duplex, it’s not hard to find. I hope your day has been good too. If not, take a minute to look up—whether it’s morning or it’s night. It’s impossible to feel bummed out when you’re looking up to the sky.
Sending a hometown hug your way tonight!
Xoxo,
Poppy
I’m standing on the porch outside Poppy’s half of the duplex, stalling.
As I was getting ready to come and pick her up to drive her to my parents’ house for family dinner, my phone dinged. I checked it to find an alert from the email account she set up for herself and Holland.
Before I thought better of it, I read her message.
Now I feel icky.
Uncomfortable.
Wondering how to be when I interact with her.
I don’t want to have this insider’s lens into her life and her thoughts. It’s not my place, and it’s going to make things weird between us.
Isn’t it?
I grind my jaw. There’s nothing for it. I need to rip the Band-Aid off. She’s expecting me to take her to meet the family. She’s living in Cashmere Cove. We’re bound to run into each other. I have to get over myself and—
The door swings open, and Poppy’s standing there, grinning at me.
“Where I come from, people knock to be let in. I might have a ghoulish last name, but that doesn’t mean I have a sixth sense that tips me off to your arrival.”
“Uh, right.” I step back, letting her walk out onto the porch and motioning her to where my truck is parked on my half of the driveway.
She takes the steps off the porch but then stops and looks to me. She does a half spin this way and that. “Do I look okay?”
This feels like a trap. I don’t particularly want to focus on how she looks. She’s Holland’s girlfriend. I have been determinedly not focusing on how she looks—which, I might add, has been a feat. Poppy is not the type of woman a guy can easily ignore. She’s like sunshine. Unavoidable in her luster. I can hardly ignore her question, can I?
“I wasn’t sure what the dress code is for Sunday family dinner. I’ve never been,” she goes on. “To yours or anyone else’s. This is already weird with Holland not being here, right? I want to make a good first impression.”
She’s smiling, but I can tell by the way she’s shifting her weight between her feet that she’s anxious.
I do feel for her. She’s right. This is a bizarre situation. Here she is, in a brand-new town, about to be introduced to her boyfriend’s family by me.
Her boyfriend’s brother.
I blow out a breath and give her a once-over, not letting my gaze linger on any area in particular for too long. She’s wearing one of those dresses that looks like it’s made out of a man’s button-up shirt. But it’s sleeveless. Her arms are toned and tan against the light-blue wash of the dress. She’s got her dark hair up in a ponytail. Loose strands fall on either side of her face, and she’s donned simple earrings that keep glinting in the late-afternoon light. Basically, she looks put together but not like she’s trying too hard.