The Birthday List(25)

It bothered me that even after a week, I could close my eyes and still see his. That I could still smell his Irish Spring soap. Yet I couldn’t remember what Jamie smelled like anymore.

So I’d resigned myself to keeping some space from Cole—to getting some distance until I had this attraction under control. I’d keep our relationship strictly professional as he looked into Jamie’s murder case.

So much for my intentions.

I’d signed up for ukulele lessons from his mother.

“I see you know Poppy,” Mia said as Cole reached her side.

He tore his eyes from mine to smile at his mom, then bent to kiss her cheek. “Sure do. Hi, Mom.”

She patted his chest. “I’m surprised I even recognized you. How long has it been? A year? Two?”

He chuckled and pulled her into his arms. “So dramatic.” His smile was wide as he looked over her head to the ukulele case in my hand. “You survived her torture chamber? I’m impressed.”

“Cole!” Mia slugged him in the gut.

“Ouf. Jesus, Mom.” He pretended to be hurt, letting her go and stepping back to rub his extremely flat stomach. “And you wonder why I don’t visit more often.”

She laughed and I looked to my feet, taking a few seconds to banish all thoughts of Cole’s abs.

“So how do you two know each other?” Mia asked, looking between us.

“Uh . . .” How did I explain this? Your son was there on the worst night of my life. Your son is looking into my husband’s murder case. Your son makes me feel things I don’t want to be feeling.

Nope. Those wouldn’t work.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to explain because Cole came to my rescue. “Poppy came to the dojo the other night.”

“Karate and ukulele?” Mia asked. “And a business owner. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.” My eyes found Cole’s, and I glanced back at Mia. “I’ll see you next—”

“You’ll stay for dinner,” Mia interrupted.

“Oh, no. Thank you, but I don’t want to intrude on a family dinner.” The ukulele case swung wildly at my side as I waved my arms.

Cole stepped past his mom and right into my space, and—damn it—my breath hitched again. Enough of that already.

“Here.” Cole reached down and took the case from my hand. The brush of his fingers sent a shudder through my shoulders. “You might as well give in now. She’s more stubborn than me and Dad combined. You don’t stand a chance.”

“But—”

“Come on, kids.” Mia marched toward the side door of her house. “Cole, you give Poppy the tour while I get started on dinner.”

“Okay, Mom,” he called and started to follow.

“I should really go.”

He just kept walking. “You heard the woman in charge. In we go.”

I stayed stuck on the pathway. I didn’t want to be rude to Mia but another personal dinner with Cole would only add more confusion to my already jumbled feelings.

“Poppy.” When Cole hit the doorstep, he glanced over his shoulder. “Dinner. Come on.”

“But—”

“If you don’t come in here, she’ll come after you, and trust me, you don’t want that. It’s just dinner.”

It’s just dinner.

I had told myself that weeks ago when Cole had eaten dinner with me at the restaurant. Except it wasn’t just dinner. It was dinner with a man whose touch made me tingle. It was dinner with a man who seemed to bust right through my defenses. It was dinner with a man who stirred feelings I’d reserved for my husband alone.

“Hi, Son.”

I broke my gaze away from Cole’s back as another man rounded the side of the house. His necktie was loose and his suit jacket was draped over one arm. Without asking, I knew this must be Cole’s dad. They looked nearly identical except for their age difference. Cole’s dad had a liberal sprinkling of gray in his dark hair and he was a bit softer in the jaw than his son.

“Hey, Dad. Meet Poppy Maysen. She’s staying for dinner.” Cole nodded toward me, then stepped out of the way so his dad could go inside.

“Hi, Poppy. I’m Brad.” He waved. “Come on in and make yourself at home.”

“Actually, I should be . . .”

Brad disappeared into his house before I could finish my sentence.

“They’ll be disappointed if you don’t stay,” Cole said.

Sheesh. “A guilt trip? Really?”

He grinned. “Whatever gets you inside.”




Two hours later, I stood on the front porch of Cole’s childhood home with a huge smile.

Dinner had been . . . just dinner.

Cole must have sensed my internal turmoil because he’d focused mostly on his parents throughout the meal. He’d teased Mia about her two-decade obsession with General Hospital. He’d argued with his dad about the Montana State Bobcat football roster and their chances at making it to the playoffs in the fall. And he’d treated me like I’d been to dinner a hundred times before. Like I was a natural fourth at their dinner table who just needed the occasional explanation for an inside joke.

And his parents had provided the perfect buffer to the attraction between us.