The Birthday List(61)

She’d changed at the restaurant. I was sure she was going for practical with her tight running shorts and plain white tank top over a strappy sports bra. But she’d sailed way past practical and landed on sexy as fuck.

“You set it all up, even though you hate Jell-O?” She smiled up at me and I fought with every cell in my body not to kiss her. “Thank you.”

I cleared the rasp from my throat and pointed to the pool. “You’d better get in there before it gets too dark.”

She took a deep breath, then put a foot in the Jell-O. “Oh my god, this is cold.”

“No turning back now.” I had my phone ready. “Smile for your picture.”

She scowled over her shoulder—a look I caught perfectly with the camera—then put her other foot in the pool. She hissed as she dropped to her knees, and then in one graceful twist, she sat down.

Her legs flattened just enough so the green could coat her thighs. “This feels weird.” She picked at the Jell-O with her fingers before planting her palms on the base of the pool and pushing herself up. Then she swiped the green bits off her legs.

“That’s it?”

She shrugged. “It’s freezing. I’m calling this one done, unless you’re going to get in here with me.”

I shook my head and took a step back. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”

“Are you sure?” A slow grin spread over Poppy’s face. She took one step, then another, moving to the edge of the pool closest to me.

“Poppy,” I warned.

She shot out a hand and made a grab for my wrist.

I jumped backward, barely dodging the green bits that flew off her hands. She’d used too much momentum trying to grab me though, because as her hand kept traveling, her feet began to slide. Like a drunken man on ice, her torso twisted, her arms pinwheeled, and her legs wobbled as she tried to keep her balance.

I was sure she was going down, but then somehow, she managed to find a grip.

“Oh my god,” she panted, looking up to me as she steadied her legs. “That was close. I almost came out of here looking like Kermit the Frog.”

I laughed. “Or the Hulk. Can you imagine going into the restaurant tomorrow looking like a pissed-off Bruce Banner?” Randall would have a field day if Poppy came in with a green face.

I was still laughing as Poppy planted her hands on her hips. “The Hulk? I remind you of The Hulk?”

My laughter died. “What? No! Of course not.” Oh, shit. “You’d be like a small green person. Like, uh . . .” Think, Cole. What the fuck else is green? The Jolly Green Giant. Godzilla. The Grinch. “Yoda.” I snapped my fingers. “You’d be like Yoda. Except not old. Or bald. Or wrink—”

“Cole.” I stopped talking as Poppy grinned. “Mouth shut, you should keep.”

I nodded. “Good idea.”

“Okay. I’m getting out of here.”

I stepped forward and held out my free hand to help her out, but before she could get a grip on my palm, she shifted her weight. One second she was standing, the next she was flying through the air.

Splat.

Green Jell-O flew everywhere as Poppy screamed. She gargled as a chunk landed in her mouth—I gagged—then spit it out, struggling to sit up. Goo dripped from her fingertips and the knot of her hair. Her tank top would never be white again.

And I couldn’t resist. My phone was still in my hand and I lifted it up for a photo burst.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

I grinned. “Just in case you want proof.” I tossed my phone aside and bent down, helping her back up on her feet. “Here.”

This time when she stood, Jell-O covered her from head to toe.

Don’t laugh. Don’t be an asshole. It was no use. A snort escaped, followed by a fit of laughter as Poppy glared and gripped my hand with all her might.

“Sorry.” I stopped howling—though my chest was still heaving—as I helped her from the pool.

With a green finger shoved in my face, Poppy spoke through her clamped teeth. “Mention one thing about Yoda or Muppets or leprechauns and you’re dead.”

“Yes, ma’am. Not a word.”

She dropped her glare and my hand so she could rub the spot on her ass where she’d taken maximum impact. “That hurt. Jell-O is not a good cushion.”

“Sorry.” I swiped the towel I’d brought down off a deck chair. “Want to take a shower?”

She nodded as she wiped her face, then darted past me toward the door.

“The shower is upstairs. Last room on the right!” I called to her back.

She waved and kept on running inside.

I smiled, shaking my head as I examined my yard.

It was a mess. That pool was going to be a bitch to clean up, and I hoped the Jell-O chunks would dissolve into the grass, but still, I was glad Poppy had come here to do this.

Deciding I’d clean up the pool tomorrow, I grabbed my phone and went inside, plopping down on the couch to look through the pictures I’d taken.

Before the water turned on upstairs, I found my favorite photo.

My beautiful, green leprechaun, Poppy.

I loved her. Staring at her picture on my phone, it hit me square in the chest.

I was in love with Poppy Maysen.

The irony hit me next.