Barefoot with a Stranger (Barefoot Bay Undercover #2)(59)

He looked at her for a long moment, swamped by her optimism and hope and plans and warmth. And before he opened the door, he had to kiss her. And she kissed him right back.

Unstoppable, indeed.

* * *

Gabe looked up at the tap on his office door, fighting the urge to cringe at the sight of Poppy’s bright smile, worn faithfully by the housekeeper-turned-spy he’d hired to keep an eye on things at the resort.

“Popcorn,” he said with his own smile, tempering the impact of a nickname she didn’t love. “Come to make sure I haven’t committed hara-kiri?”

Her smile faltered as she sauntered in uninvited, crossing her arms with her Ima tell you what’s what face that Gabe had grown to know preceded a lecture he likely didn’t want to hear.

“Nino had no right sharin’ that information with you, Mr. Gabriel.”

“Look, I know we’ve only been at this gig a few months, but you should know one thing by now: My grandfather tells me everything, Poppy. You tell him, you’re essentially telling me.” He gestured toward the chair. “Now sit down and let me assure you that I am not, in any way, depressed, sleep-deprived, or alcoholic. Just not a fan of pink flowers.”

She took the chair and angled her head, openly assessing him. “I’m proud of you, Mr. Gabriel.”

“For not needing a shrink?”

“For saying all that without dropping one F, B, S, H, or D bomb on me.”

“Don’t push your luck, woman.” He threw a glance at the swear jar on the bookshelf, overflowing since she might not be doing much to clean up his act, but she was definitely Hoovering his wallet. “But let’s get this straight. I’m not unhappy.”

She lifted two black caterpillar eyebrows, dubious of his pronouncement. “You’re not happy.”

How the hell did he respond to that? “Not everyone goes around belting out Amazing Grace and slinging joyful Bible quotes around like you do. But I’m okay, really.”

She looked like she was not buying what he was selling.

“Look,” he said. “I’ve had some shit happen.”

She pointed to the jar.

Damn it. He stood and opened his wallet, stuffing a five in, which was more than shit cost on the Poppy Price List. “I got credit now. Listen to me.” He came around the desk to lean on it and tower over her to make his point. But she looked directly up at him, a woman who didn’t fear a towering man. And he loved that about her.

“What do you want to say?” she demanded.

“That I appreciate your concern for my well-being.” He did, too, and the realization made him reach out and take her hand. “A lot. But not long ago I found out that someone I cared about…”

Died.

“Passed,” he said.

“Lucky girl.”

He frowned at her. “How is she lucky? And how did you know it was a she, anyway?”

Poppy beamed. “She because of the look of love on your face. Lucky because she’s with the Lord, assuming she was saved. Was she saved?”

Not by him. And that was at the bottom of what hurt the most. “She collected rosaries,” he offered.

“Then she’s with the angels, including the one you’re named after.” She grinned. “He is a mighty angel.”

Not mighty enough, he thought glumly. “Okay, but I want you to know there’s nothing wrong with me except a little garden-variety…mourning.” Even that sounded a little weak to his ears. But what else could he call this torture he felt over losing Isa forever?

Poppy grabbed his hand in both of hers, her palms rough from housework, her grasp strong with conviction. “Mr. Gabriel, you know what you need, right?”

He braced for a conversion speech and an invitation to her church. Or maybe the name of a shrink who she knew happened to be staying at the resort.


“Young man, you need a little hair of the dog.”

“A drink? I thought you were counting my empties in the trash.”

“No, a little something of what your body is missing. A woman.”

“What?” He barked a laugh. “Is this St. Popsicle of the Blessed Virginity suggesting I drown my sorrows in sex?”

“Not that, Mr. Gabriel!” She looked horrified. “Just, you know, the nice company of a pretty lady.”

The only nice company he’d be interested in would have to be flat on her back. He wasn’t in the mood to chat up a woman for fun.

“Mr. Gabriel, you need love.”

And he really wasn’t in the mood for that.

He stared at her for a minute, wondering just how open he should be, something he rarely was. But this once, he didn’t feel like hiding the truth from this large, loving woman who always had his best interests at heart.

“I had love,” he finally said. “And it sucked.”

She twisted her head from side to side, tsking like a metronome.

“What?” he asked. “Is ‘suck’ on your list of bad words?”

“Child, you know what sucks?” She stood, practically pulling him closer. “The fact that you are holed up here on this island in this office with your ornery old grandfather and a nosy, fat black lady for companionship.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not fat.”